I called Sheila.
Come over, she said. I’ll make some time.
When I got there I was momentarily mute. So much had happened. I didn’t know where to start.
Shall we talk about Melissa? Sheila suggested.
I don’t know, I said.
And I didn’t. I didn’t have anything to say.
I can’t get my mind around it, I said.
Yes, said Sheila, indulging me. I’m sorry.
I wish I were.
Rick. You don’t mean that.
I do. Sort of. I mean yes, I’m sorry. I feel bad. Of course I do. But somehow it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to feel.
How is it ‘supposed to feel’?
I didn’t have an answer.
Do you feel guilty? she asked finally.
Guilty, sure. I’ll never stop feeling guilty. Guilty for what I did.
What did you do?
Nothing.
Oh, come on, Rick.
Not nothing. But not enough. If I’d done enough, she’d still be alive.
I hesitate to use the word, but isn’t that a little…arrogant?
Arrogant? How so?
You ascribe to yourself the power of life and death. Rather grandiose, don’t you think?
I thought about that.
Ah, I said. Yes. I see.
I told the Steiglitz story, the story of the AA crowd. All the secrets. How helpless I’d felt. Drowning in a tide of revelations.
Oh dear, she said.
Yes, I said. Oh dear.
Silence.
But there’s a silver lining, I said.
I’m so glad to hear that, she said, brightening.
I told her about Dorita.
She’s saved my life, I said. She’s perfect. Radiant. The answer to my prayers.
Sheila looked somber.
I was taken aback. I’d expected her to share my excitement.
Rick, she said.
It suddenly occurred to me that she’d used my name three times. A new record. Jesus, I thought, I must be really messed up.
That’s great, she said. It really is. And I hope it works out for you. But you need to be careful. Manage your expectations. There are no magic bullets in this life. We’ve talked about that.
I felt a pain in my lower back.
Sure, I said. But that was in the context of momentary pleasures. Ecstasies. Escapes.
Are you sure this is any different?
I paused. I shrugged. I thought. I struggled.
No, I said at last. I’m not sure. I can’t be sure. But it sure feels like it.
How did it feel those other times? Those other times that you felt close to bliss. Did it feel different?
No, I said slowly, carefully. Not different. But it went away. As soon as I left the room. It vanished. Or soon. Within a couple of hours. Days, anyway.
The glow faded.
It did.
Well, Rick, this might just be a bigger glow, mightn’t it? Just taking a little longer to fade?
I was silent. Damn, I thought, I’d been like a kid in a candy store.
Like Melissa? she suggested. Like the first few months with Melissa?
I pondered. I struggled. Well, I thought. There it was. Real life.
Candy melts, I said.
She knew exactly what I meant.
And if you eat too much of it? she asked.
You get sick.
Or sick of it.