She asked if I would be there, and I said that I would not, not yet.
But eventually, she said, and I promised that yes, of course, very soon.
And I told her that in the meantime we had great family up there that would take care of her.
And she asked me when I would be there, and I told her soon. Twenty-two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” “So am I.” After a while, I asked, “What happened to her mom?”
He smiled. “You’re still looking for your sequel, you little rat.” I smiled back.
You should go home,I told him.Sober up. Write another novel.
Do the thing you’re good at. Not many people are lucky enough to be so good at something.
He stared at me through the mirror for a long time. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re right.”
But even as he said it, he pulled out his mostly empty fifth of whiskey.
He drank, recapped the bottle, and opened the door. “Good-bye, Hazel.”
“Take it easy, Van Houten.” He sat down on the curb behind the car.
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