The Infinite Tides Read Free Page B

handed him the card and the receipt.
    “Yeah? You been home?”
    “Home,” Keith said. “Well, yeah.”
    “And?”
    “And I’m getting the house ready to sell.”
    “Is that what you decided?”
    “Yes, that’s what I decided.” She handed him a paper cup and he took it and mouthed a thank you and then cradled the phone awkwardly against his ear with his shoulder and carried his bag and coffee to a padded chair at the back of the room.
    “She there?”
    “Barb?”
    “Yeah, Barb. Who else?”
    “OK,” Keith said. “No, she’s definitely not here.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Keith said, “She really emptied me out.”
    “How so?”
    “There’s nothing in the house at all. The whole place is empty.”
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah, shit.”
    “So what’s the plan?”
    “Well, I’m looking for a realtor.”
    “Any chance of counseling?”
    “Marriage counseling? I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “Is that something you want?”
    “I want to sell the house. That’s what I want.”
    “All right then,” Eriksson said.
    A pause. Then Keith said, “Yeah. That’s about it. Get the house sold.”
    “Then vacation somewhere?”
    He looked at his coffee and then stood and walked to the small table near the counter and poured creamer and a packet of sugar into the cup. “Maybe,” he said.
    “No maybes. Take a break, Keith. We all earned one. Especially you.”
    “You said that before.”
    “Yeah, but I feel like you’re not really hearing me.”
    “I hear you.”
    “All right. All right. Just looking out for the crew.”
    “Mission’s over.”
    “It’s over when I say it’s over,” Eriksson said. “So how’s the processor?”
    “Funny. How’s yours?”
    “Same sense of humor,” Eriksson said, not without irony. “Listen, the offer still stands, you know. You’re always welcome here.”
    “I need to get this house thing done. I appreciate it, though.”
    Keith could hear a child’s voice in the distance of the phone and Eriksson said, “Hang on,” and then, muffled, “Daddy’s on the phone. I’ll be off in just a second. No, you cannot have a Pop-Tart. Just wait a second until I’m off the phone.” And then, to Keith: “Sorry about that.”
    “How are they?”
    “Running me ragged.”
    “I’ll bet.” Through the phone he could hear the sound of a child’s voice yelling, whether in joy or terror he could not tell.
    “Oh, so that reminds me,” Eriksson said after a pause, “my wife keeps asking if you’ve looked at that book at all.”
    “Book?”
    “Yeah, that thing on the grieving process. She was asking me if it’s been helpful.”
    “Oh yeah, sure. Tell her … tell her yeah it’s good. It’s been …” He paused a moment and then added, “helpful.” Another pause. Then, “Thank her for me.”
    “Will do.”
    “So look, you call me now and then. I want some check-ins.”
    “You’ve got my number,” Keith said.
    “I’m serious. Status updates.”
    “OK,” Keith said. “Can you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, buddy. Anything.”
    “I asked Mullins for some files from my office. Can you see what the status of that is?”
    “Yeah, OK. I’ll find out but you know you’re supposed to be taking a break.”
    “Just find out. OK?”
    “All right, I will.”
    “Thank you,” Keith said.
    “You’ll check in, right?”
    “Yes,” Keith said.
    “That’s all I wanted to hear,” Eriksson said. Then: “Talk to you later, buddy.”
    “OK,” Keith said. “Talk to you later.”
    He pocketed his phone again and then he lifted his bag and removed his laptop and opened it. He looked through his e-mail but there were no messages of note, only some general information about changes to health care, some budgetary updates, a newsletter or two. After a fewmoments he searched the Internet for local real estate agents and wrote them on the back of his coffee receipt and then found the addresses of a nearby building supply store.