Page 53 of After His Eulogy
“Okay.”
He picks up the phone. He looks at me. He looks at me and his face is asking me to confirm that I am still here, that I have not changed my mind in the four minutes since we sat down, that we are still doing this. I look at him. I do not nod, because nodding would make it a thing. I just look back. He presses the contact. He puts it on speaker. The phone rings. It rings three times.
“Mendez.”
“It’s Reed.”
“Two days in a row. What’s happening.”
“I lied to you yesterday.”
There is a silence on the line. I watch Reed. Reed is looking at the phone. He is not looking at me. His hand is flat on the desk next to the phone and the hand is not steady. The hand is the hand I have known for years and when it is trying not to do anything.
“Tell me.”
“There is someone.”
Another silence.
“How long.”
“A month.”
“A month.”
“Yes.”
“How serious.”
“Serious.”
“Reed.”
“Yes.”
“Define serious.”
“He was in my life before. He is in my life now. We were together for years. Before.”
The silence on the line is longer this time. I can hear something in the background. A chair, maybe, Mendez sitting down. He has put down whatever he was doing. He is now in the conversation.
“Before what.”
“Before I came in.”
“Reed. Are you telling me…“
“Yes.”
“He was the boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“At the funeral.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
