Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

I dial Information, hang up before I get it, wipe the rain and melted snow off the telephone stand shelf, set up my notebook and opened pen on it, dial Information and give the same information plus her street number and get her building and phone numbers and write them down, dial and the woman repeats the last four digits. “It’s the same man from before,” I say.

“What man from when before? So far tonight I’ve answered a couple of men’s voices for this number and one woman’s which might have been a man’s.”

“The nameless semistranger who couldn’t make up his mind five minutes ago.”

“You know, in every holiday season, which I think I can say we’re already in — someone’s blinking window wreath I can see from the slit they give us to see out of here — Well I don’t want to talk about tough nights, but if you’ve any plans to annoy me further and nothing else puts you off, I will.”

“I don’t plan it. But if you think you’ve had a tough night—”

“I don’t want to talk about it either, for that’s exactly what some of the tough calls were on. Depression, rejection, help me to reach him and what’d she say when you gave her my message or told him from me to take gas, and more of the same, no?”

“No, but okay. Just tell Winiker I called. Daniel K-r-i-n. From a pay station or phone booth or one-legged stand you can’t stand under even with one leg, and that I was an incredible fool Friday night, but outside of this call and the last one I made, won’t be anymore.”

“You’re asking me to write all that down?”

“You don’t have to include this booth or stand or anything about legs or even my previous call.”

“Think it wise saying any of it?”

“It’s not what you think. There’s this carefully plotted though harmless meaning behind it all. So no matter how surprised Winiker might be when you first give her the message, you’ll suddenly be surprised when she all of a sudden understands.”

“Fine. Krin. Bye.”

“Maybe you’re right. You are right. You still there?”

“Why?”

“Please erase all I said starting from the beginning of this call. Beginning before even then. Don’t even say I called this time or the last. Don’t even recall I called. Put my name and namelessness and existence out of your mind. I never called either time, okay? If you wrote the message or started to, tear it up. It was dumb of me — child’s play — my acting the way I did. I’ll probably see her later tonight anyway, so I’ll tell her myself, but don’t even tell her that. I mean phone her tonight, I probably will, or one day soon, though nothing of that’s to go past us too, not even an allusion to my musing about it. No, it’s hopeless. Got myself into a nice hole with this one. You’ll no doubt give her the message and my musings no matter what I say, since that’s your job. And maybe after a couple of years of your becoming overprotective and communicationally involved with your clients, you think she should know even more so that I called, whether you wrote it down yet or not.”

“Believe me, Danny, it’s easier for me to rip up a message than slot and give it, so that’s what I’ll do if you want.”

“I do.”