Apathy and Other Small Victories (26 page)

“Ha ha ha,” I said as I was backing away from him.

“And watch your head getting off that bus!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, and about those outstanding bills you have.”

Shit.

“You’re not going to pay them, are you.”

“Probably not Doug.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, but he was smiling, like only a man who’s wearing an orange headband on his way to see Yogi Finkelstein possibly could. He looked ridiculously serene and at peace with the world and with me, both of whom were obviously screwing him.

“That’s okay. We had some laughs, didn’t we?”

“Sure Doug.”

“Yeah, we did.” And he put his free hand on his hip and sighed, quietly reminiscing. “All right, hurry up and don’t miss your bus. And wherever you go, find yourself a yogi when you get there. It really helps.”

“Okay,” I said.

He walked along the water and whistled the tune to “Splish Splash I Was Taking a Bath,” snapping his fingers as he went, which mingled with the saxophone solo from “Careless Whisper” that was blowing up the concrete path to meet him. And this soundtrack somehow described Dr. Douglas Weinhardt more completely than words ever could. Guilty feet have got no rhythm. Rub a dub Doug. Rub a dub.

I was on my way to the bus station. Despite everything I felt pretty good. I wasn’t skipping down the sidewalk or anything, but I liked some things about myself and I didn’t want to die. It was the closest I’d been to optimistic in years.

And I was rich, which always helps, no matter what rich people say. I still had some money left from those paychecks Panopticon Insurance had given me for sleeping in their bathroom, and I’d saved a lot from not paying rent the past few months. And I had a check, made out to me, for $800 in my back pocket. Marlene’s husband had been in the hospital since that night he’d tried to murder me, and with no hand and so much else on his mind I doubt he would’ve thought to call his bank to cancel a check. There were a few flecks of dried blood on Marvin the Martian’s face, but there’s always a check cashing window that doesn’t care about those kinds of details. And it’s always by the bus station, no matter what city you’re in.

I was still a little torn up about Bryce’s wife, and when that detective told me about her and Mobo, that finally broke my heart actually. So maybe I really wasn’t feeling all that fucking optimistic. Maybe I was pretty fucking sad. Even so, I was still hoping I’d run into her somehow, and I thought for some reason that I would. I wanted to see her again, and ask her a few questions maybe, and that was something. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

At least I had some things to think about.

So I walked towards the station and I waited for it to rain. And it did, which was nice.