Whenever You Call by Anna King Read Free Book Online Page A

the kitchen, I packed a crystal glass with ice and carried it back downstairs where a small cabinet held my collection of liquor. I took out the bottle of Scotch and placed it with the glass on a tray. Then I poked at the fire. I did not check my hair or make-up. The days when I wanted to impress Isaac were long gone. In fact, I prayed that my mood of depression had made me look unattractive. Maybe the same thing would be true of him, too. I opened the front door so that he could just walk in, then settled back on the couch.
    Naturally I began to worry about what he was coming to talk to me about, but he arrived before I managed to get very far with the worrying.
    I stood up and he kissed me on both cheeks. I pretended to do the same to him, but I was really just smooching the air around his face.
    “Help yourself to a scotch.” I gestured to the tray.
    “Great, thanks.”
    I sat back down in my corner, and he took the opposite corner. Very cozy. The fire crackled and spit sparks.
    “I have something to tell you that may come as a shock,” he said immediately.
    “Are you sick?”
    “Oh, god, no! I’m sorry you thought—”
    “I didn’t think you were sick, it’s just that when someone sounds so serious and determined to talk, it can be worrisome.”
    “It’s serious, but not bad.”
    I found I was genuinely relieved. “Now I can enjoy my drink.” I took a hefty gulp.
    Isaac matched my gulp with his own. “I’m making a big life change, and you’re one of the first people I wanted to tell.”
    “Must be something in the water,” I said. “Seeing as how I quit the writing life.”
    “I did wonder about both of us doing this at the same time.” He smiled, but gently, without much joy in it.
    “Or maybe it’s the approach of the big five-oh.”
    “The big five-oh?”
    “Fifty years old!”
    He shook his head. “Doubt that has anything to do with my situation.”
    I cocked my head and swallowed more Tom Collins.
    He sucked in his breath. “I’m just going to spit it out.”
    “This better be good,” I said.
    “I’m becoming a monk.”
    I blinked at him, then glanced at the fire while I replayed the words in my mind. Finally, I said, “Uh, Isaac, you’re Jewish.”
    He nodded. “Was.”
    “You’re not Jewish anymore?”
    “I’m a Buddhist now.”
    “I think I’d feel better if you’d said you had a brain tumor.” After the words were out, I clapped both hands over my mouth, horrified.
    “You’re awful,” Isaac said, pulling his face into a funny expression. “I know you don’t have much use for organized religion.”
    “Or disorganized religion,” I said. “Or any kind of religion in any way, shape, or form.”
    He nodded, but he didn’t seem troubled by what I was saying. I was very troubled. The smell of the tomato sauce seemed to cascade down the stairs and swirl into the room with us. I tried to get a handle on what Isaac had announced, first of all, but also on why he’d somehow felt it necessary to confide in me. His future was his future. He knew we were over, particularly if he was becoming a monk. Not much room for an ex-wife in a Buddhist monastery, for crying out loud.
    “So I know this isn’t something that you care about, but at the same time, I feel you know me better than almost anyone. You may not understand or respect religion, but I think you do understand and respect me . What do you think of my plan?”
    I stared at him. I’m afraid my mouth had dropped open a little bit. I was at a loss. “I can’t imagine what makes you say that I understand you. I don’t understand you at all. I never did.”
    “But you’re the one who told me I was running from love by engaging in so much promiscuous sex.”
    Frankly, I couldn’t remember having said that, but I was pleasantly surprised that he seemed to think I had. It sounded wise to me. Suddenly, I was wise.
    Isaac continued, “And you’re the one who’s been celibate for two years, showing me the