Oh, I Think So

New Year's Eve was quiet.  She stayed in, cracked open a split of nonvintage French champagne at 11:58 p.m., toasted the local newscasters at midnight, and was asleep at 12:45 a.m.  Before she drifted off she thought about her aunt, now made softer and kinder by a ravaging brain illness, about her cousin who would no doubt go a little crazy, about Kevin and his wife, in the kitchen threatening lobsters with axes, and about Handsome -- no, Conrad, because that's his name -- and how maybe, just maybe he wasn't trying to kill her. Her dear friends thought he was trying to do her harm.  The waitress at the department store, the security guard in her old building, the saleslady with the coat, security at the hardware megastore all thought he was cold.  Kevin seemed capable of hurting maybe a button on his shirt by gripping it too hard and twisting it off but that was the extent of it.  Kevin didn't seem scared of Conrad and Kevin seemed like a genuine person. Who...

From that day, work became a pleasure.  If the clients were cranky, she didn't notice.  If her coworkers were cross, she didn't think badly of them because everyone is entitled to a bad day, even her.  The weekends she spent with her boss, learning the reporting system, was spent learning how to disassemble and reassemble a giant puzzle and she liked this sort of puzzle.  Her boss always took her out to lunch on the weekend, and if they stayed late, her boss gave her cab fare home. A week before Christmas, their local vice president came to the office, assembled the staff and made the announcement.  Her boss would separate from the company on December 31st and she would start on January 2nd.  There was meager applause for her and some tears shed for their manager but these were shed by the hormonal women who cried at card tricks or the office actors whose office performances could earn them awards if it was something more than office acting.  Some of...

Work was especially weird that day:  the calls were long and trying, the clients were cranky and/or demanding, and her manager, one of the most even-tempered people she knew, was in a very crabby mood. She returning from the restroom a little after lunch when her manager intercepted her and asked her to come to her office instead of going back to the phones. "You know we're really busy," she told her manager.  "Shouldn't I just take calls?" "I know, I know, but it won't take long, and it's something I want to tell you," said the manager. They walked silently down the hall to the office and she seated herself while the manager closed the door and sat at her desk. "I am so sorry I've been such a bitch today," said the manager.  "I know you've noticed.  Hell, everyone's noticed.  But you're the only one I can trust to tell things." She'd no idea she'd created such an aura of trust but she...

As soon as she walked into her apartment, she locked the door, then peeked around the blinds to make sure she'd not been followed.  She took the Dremel tool kit and put it on the shelf in the front closet, then took off her coat and hung it up, her scarf stored in the coat's left sleeve.  There wasn't precipitation of any kind that night or for the previous days so her shoes were dry; she kicked them off and put them in front of the door.  Then she got into bed fully clothed, having set her alarm clock for the usual time.  She fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion right away. She had dreams of Handsome and Kevin.  Kevin with a tall, female version of himself, lifting a small child so he could put their favorite star on top of the tree.   Mrs. Kevin stringing popcorn on strong white thread to make a garland.  Kevin singing Christmas songs along with their iPod, his voice loud and clear.  Handsome bursting through the door saying, "I brought...