Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 41

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

I call the number of the new apartment…

The apartment I bought her…

No reply.

Did she stay?

I try her old apartment instead.

Still no answer, but the ansa-machine clicks in. “Hi, Mitch. It’s Larry. Just to let you know that I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m hoping we can meet up. I thought you might be able to meet me at the airport. I’m coming in on the three forty-five from Amsterdam. But if you can’t make it, I’ll drop round to the new place around six. I’m… I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

Disappointment pinches at my stomach.

Will she meet me?

*****

In Arrivals, I scan. The crowd mills and jostles. Kids, shrieking with excitement, run up to adults crouched down with outstretched arms and big smiles. Businessmen with briefcases march up to cabbies holding up cardboard signs scrawled in felt-tip capitals. A girl pushes past me to pelt across the floor and fling herself into the arms of a waiting boyfriend. The pair laugh and babble as he lifts her from her feet, spinning her.

But there’s no Mitch.

She’ll be waiting in the apartment…

Bound to be…

I hail a cab, staring out at billboards and neon, gaudy in the already failing February light. They advertise rings and chocolates, flowers and eternal promises, flashing up ‘Forever’ and I *heart* you’.

Wonder if she’ll like the painting?

At the harbour, I exit the taxi. Over the waters, lights bob as yachts and pleasure cruisers ride rippling waters. Multi-coloured lights drape from trees and buildings and masts, giving the area a jolly, gala-like feel and brightening the streets. But Mitch’s apartment windows are dark.

I pay the cabbie, but, “Wait for me would you,”

“Of course, sir.”

for the keys in my pocket

Her apartment…

No strings…

I press

movement. The darkness remains, the silence

inside with brown and a tea-pot. stone-cold. When I lift the lid, green mould wobbles at

Her own work…

of Helsinki Harbour, sits on the

steams in the chill and the air has that slightly

the

empty. The bed looks unslept-in. And save for a few shadings between door and bed, the carpet has that ‘just-vacuumed’ look to the

even

the blankets rumpled, the sheet thrown back from when she

Let-down gnaws at me.

offend

With a gift?

driver stands leaning against his

into the back again.

that dingy apartment which, apparently, she

Gave her…

away, the garish harbour lights irritating me with their

I

my

again, I look up, reflexively seeking her window. Again, it’s in darkness. I

Headed out…?

Working again?

in his seat.

“Please, yes.”

case. Instead, climbing the stone steps to the door, I fumble a little in the dark on the panel of buzzers before I press hers. There’s a buzz but no response. I try the handle,

Now what?

woman trundles close pushing a small screaming child in a stroller. At the

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