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Mike and Richard arrived a few minutes later. I was still sitting in the same spot, staring at the melted ice water that had pooled on top of my coffee.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Noel?” Richard asked.
“She left. Do you mind if we get the coffee to go and head back to my house? I’m a little tired.”
Of course they agreed. When neither of them offered to help me to the car, I surmised that no one could see my shaking but me.
On the way home, Richard told what should have been a funny story about Mike trying to serve a subpoena for him earlier in the week at some down at heel strip club. I tried to laugh in all the right places, or any place at all, but I couldn’t. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Isaac and Vanda and Noel, and also (but less so) with men hiding behind masks. By th
