Сумерки

           WhenIheardthecruiserpullaway,IcouldonlywaitafewsecondsbeforeIhadtopeekoutofmywindow.Thesilvercarwasalreadythere,waitinginCharlie’sspotonthedriveway.Iboundeddownthestairsandoutthefrontdoor,wonderinghowlongthisbizarreroutinewouldcontinue.Ineverwantedittoend.

           Hewaitedinthecar,notappearingtowatchasIshutthedoorbehindmewithoutbotheringtolockthedead-bolt.Iwalkedtothecar,pausingshylybeforeopeningthedoorandsteppingin.Hewassmiling,relaxed-and,asusual,perfectandbeautifultoanexcruciatingdegree.

           "Goodmorning."Hisvoicewassilky."Howareyoutoday?"Hiseyesroamedovermyface,asifhisquestionwassomethingmorethansimplecourtesy.

           "Good,thankyou."Iwasalwaysgood-muchmorethangood-whenIwasnearhim.

           Hisgazelingeredonthecirclesundermyeyes."Youlooktired."

           "Icouldn’tsleep,"Iconfessed,automaticallyswingingmyhairaroundmyshouldertoprovidesomemeasureofcover.

           "NeithercouldI,"heteasedashestartedtheengine.Iwasbecomingusedtothequietpurr.Iwassuretheroarofmytruckwouldscareme,wheneverIgottodriveitagain.

           Ilaughed."Iguessthat’sright.IsupposeIsleptjustalittlebitmorethanyoudid."

           "I’dwageryoudid."

           "Sowhatdidyoudolastnight?"Iasked.

           Hechuckled."Notachance.It’smydaytoaskquestions."

           "Oh,that’sright.Whatdoyouwanttoknow?"Myforeheadcreased.Icouldn’timagineanythingaboutmethatcouldbeinanywayinterestingtohim.