"Fucking box," Oliver
said with a certain amount of pride. He scratched Verdi between the
ears. There was nothing to do but go to bed.
The phone rang. He answered, but the person on the other end was
silent. He knew it was Jacky. "I'm sorry," he said. She hung up.
5.
Jacky's transfer left a hole in Oliver's life. He tried to explain it
to Mark Barnes without getting into details. "I mean, we were going in
different directions anyway. She wanted a lot . . ."
"Yeah." Mark laughed. "How it goes."
"But I got used to seeing her. She has a house in South Portland. I
used to go over there sometimes on weekends--nice place, garden out
back, blueberries, the high bush kind. I pruned them. We'd have a glass
of wine, get into it . . . Now, nothing. And the hell of it is: I
don't feel like seeing anyone else."
"Used to take me 18 months to get over a relationship," Mark said. "Now
it's 18 weeks and dropping. You know what they say about falling off a
horse."
"Climb back on--right." Oliver said. "All very well for you. I'm not,
like, in demand. I got lucky, was all."
"Come on! Just cuz you're four feet, two . . ."
"Five feet, two," Oliver said.
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