Okay, so, that’s done, Abe thought as he hung up the phone. He had not intended to do it, but there it was, acting on impulse, one of the many things that had driven Mavis nuts, usually because when he did it, it was a screwup. As this might be a screwup too, Abe thought, this woman he didn’t even know but liked for no good reason except that she sang well and there was something about her that… well.. got to him.
He sat back and glanced around his office, and it seemed to him that everything he saw confirmed that, impulse or not, he’d done the right thing. Going through the motions, that was what his life had become, a daily going through the motions. There were the bills on his desk, the orders in the box, the file cabinet stuffed with forms and catalogs and tax receipts, and God only knew whatever else he’d crammed in there. There were the boxes of whiskey, overflow from the storeroom, stacks of promotional material dropped off by the salesman, a bottle of wine Mrs. Higgins had brought back, claiming it was corked, which it was, and so he’d refunded her money, and now was supposed to contact the distributor for a refund of his own, but never would because… well… why bother since he’d sold it to her illegally, as a favor, McPherson’s being a bar, not a liquor store, and besides it was only twelve bucks, and his time wasn’t worth it.
But what was his time worth, he asked himself now. What were the days and hours that remained to him actually worth if he lived on as he now lived? Not much, he decided, which was why he’d changed his mind about that singer, gone with that little charge Susanne thought was so funny, but which, he knew, even “old guys” felt, perhaps old guys felt even more sharply than young guys because the horizon was closing in and the next chance you had might well be your last.
So, okay, he thought again, now rising with a curious energy, so, okay, done.