Ivory and the Horn by Charles De Lint Read Free Book Online

not really happy, I guess,” I tell her.
    She doesn’t say anything, just nods encouragingly.
    “It’s… I never really told you why I came to see you about school and the job and everything. You probably just thought that you’d finally won me over, right?”
    Angel shakes her head. “It was never a matter of winning or losing. I’m just there for the people who need me.”
    “Yeah, well, what happened was—do you remember when Margaret Grierson died?”
    Angel nods.
    “We shared the same postal station,” I tell her, “and the day before she was killed, I got a message in my box warning me to be careful, that someone was out to do a serious number on me. I spent the night in a panic and I was so relieved when the morning finally came and nothing had happened, because what’d happen to Tommy and the dogs if anything ever happened to me, you know?”
    “What does that have to do with Margaret Grierson?” Angel asks.
    “The note I got was addressed to ‘Margaret’—just that, nothing else. I thought it was for me. but I guess whoever sent it got his boxes mixed up and it ended up in mine instead of hers.”
    “But I still don’t see what—”
    I can’t believe she doesn’t get it.
    “Margaret Grierson was an important person,” I say. “She was heading up that AIDS clinic, she was doing things for people. She was making a difference.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “I’m nobody,” I say. “It should’ve been me that died. But it wasn’t, so I thought well, I better do something with myself, with my life, you know? I better make my having survived meaningful. But I can’t cut it.
    “I’ve got the straight job, the straight residence, I’m going back to school and it’s like it’s all happening to someone else. The things that are important to me—Tommy and the dogs—it’s like they’re not even a part of my life anymore.”
    I remember something Shirley’s ghost asked me, and add, “Maybe it’s selfish, but I figure charity should start at home, you know? I can’t do much for other people if I’m feeling miserable myself.”
    “You should’ve come to me,” Angel says.
    I shake my head. “And tell you what? It sounds so whiny. I mean there’s people starving not two blocks from where we’re sitting, and I should be worried about being happy or not? The important stuffs covered—I’m providing for my family, putting a roof over their heads and making sure they have enough to eat—that should be enough, right? But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like the most important things are missing.
    “I used to have time to spend with Tommy and the dogs; now I have to steal a minute here, another there____”
    My voice trails off. I think of how sad they all looked when I left the apartment tonight, like I was deserting them, not just for the evening, but forever. I can’t bear that feeling, but how do you explain yourself to those who can’t possibly understand?
    “We could’ve worked something out,” Angel says. “We still can.”
    “Like what?”
    Angel smiles. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to think it through better than we have so far. You’ll have to try to open up a bit more, tell me what you’re really feeling, not just what you think I want to hear.”
    “It’s that obvious, huh?”
    “Let’s just say I have a built-in bullshit detector.”
    We don’t say anything for awhile then. I think about what she’s said, wondering if something could be worked out. I don’t want special dispensation because I’m some kind of charity case—I’ve always earned my own way—but I know there’ve got to be some changes or the little I’ve got is going to fall apart.
    I can’t get the image out of my mind—Tommy with his sad eyes as I’m going out the door—and I know I’ve got to make the effort. Find a way to keep what was good about the past and still make a decent future for us.
    I put my hand in my pocket and feel the bus ticket I bought earlier.
    I have