Loss of Separation by Conrad Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

the head. There was something wrong. She was white, glassy. She seemed on the verge of tears, more so than usual. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I didn't mean to spoil the mood.'
    'It's all right. It's my hormones. I'm all over the place. And it's also... the baby... whenever I think of it I think of him.'
    'We don't have to talk about this. Really. I'm sorry I even started this.'
    She took a sip of her wine and it seemed to fortify her. 'It's all right. I mean it. I need to get a grip. And I will.'
    We sat in a silence that was far from companionable. I fetched the plates of food and we ate it and put our knives and forks down. I felt like an unwanted, uninvited guest who has overstayed a welcome that had never really been extended. I considered turning in, or going for a walk, but merely the thought of it made my legs burn. I thought of the cockpit of a 777. Right seat. Night flight out of Schiphol, AMS. Velvet sky, deepening. The clean, superbright glimmer of the runway lights. Light wind. Cool, crisp shirt. The power hanging there in the night behind you, as near as dammit one hundred thousand pounds lbf in each engine. The winding up. The knowledge you are flying with a fine captain. Thomas Sheedy, 52. Closing in on 30,000 hours of service. We are confident. We are good. Captain Sheedy says something, but it's all wrong. I turn to him and the top of his head is gone.
    'I tried to contact my girlfriend today,' I said.
    'Paul,' she said. The nurse voice.
    'I have to know,' I said. 'I can't just let things lie as they are.'
    'She left you. She went home.'
    'Her home is here,' I said. 'With me. She's my girlfriend.' It felt strange referring to Tamara like that. It was beginning to feel as though she was not real, as if she were a dream. Details were softening. One of her breasts was slightly larger than the other; I couldn't remember which one. I couldn't summon the sound of her voice. That she was somewhere else in the world, but still my girlfriend, seemed the most ridiculous idea.
    'So,' Ruth said, undercover of a sigh. 'Any luck?'
    'A possible lead,' I said. 'Someone who knows someone who worked with her. She's going to call me back.'
    'Be careful,' she said.
    'I know the risks.'
    'Maybe. There might be more than you think. You discover something unpleasant, she's with another man... it might put your convalescence back months.'
    'Anything would be better than this... not knowing.'
    'I hope you're right. Thanks for dinner.'
    She stood up and moved past me, touching my shoulder briefly.
    'Ruth,' I said.
    'What is it?'
    'Does the word... have you heard the word "craw" mentioned around here?'
    'What?'
    'Craw.'
    'As in "stick in the craw"?'
    'Maybe, yes. Maybe, no. Anybody use it?'
    'Not around me,' she said.
    She moved to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. I heard the snick of her bedroom door as it closed.
    I cleared away the dinner plates and had another glass of wine. Ruth wasn't coming back. She'd spent another tough day patching up the walking wounded. Perhaps I was getting her down. How miserable must it be for her to come home just to find another patient?
    My things - our things - were stored in Ruth's garage. I went downstairs and into the yard. I pulled open the garage door, switched on the light in there and stared at the boxes. Vulcan made figure-of-eight entreaties at my ankles. I opened a box. I didn't recognise any of the contents. It was only after a while spent picking through books and folders and plastic tubs that familiarity began to sink in. I found a box of Tamara's blouses, individually wrapped in polythene bags. Her smell was in all of them. I found an album of photographs, most of them self-timed ones of us squeezed tight into a 6"x4" frame as if we were unsure that the camera would capture us both in the shot.
    I looked hard into her eyes as if the reason for her subsequent abandonment of me could be read. Rubbed the seams and hems of her clothes, searching for splinters of doubt. I closed the boxes and