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.”

in my pocket but on

Her apartment…

No strings…

I press the

darkness remains, the silence

my case at the door. The lounge is immaculate save for a teacup ringed inside with brown

Her own work…

on the carpet, leaning against the

breath steams in the chill and the air has that slightly

check the master

drawers; empty. The bed looks unslept-in. And save for a few shadings between door and bed, the carpet has that

didn’t even

I left it, the blankets rumpled, the sheet thrown back from when she invited

Let-down gnaws at me.

I offend her that

With a gift?

I head back out where the taxi driver stands leaning

my case into the back again. “Where

him Mitch’s old address; that dingy apartment which, apparently, she prefers to all

Gave her…

away, the garish harbour

do I

my gift down

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

Headed out…?

Working again?

in his seat. “Want

“Please, yes.”

the dark on the panel

Now what?

At the bottom step, she spins, reverses and tries to back up, struggling with the

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