Oracle Night by Paul Auster

ATM on his way back to the Hyatt Regency, he learns that his Citibank card has been canceled as well. His situation has suddenly become quite desperate. All avenues to money have been blocked, and when the hotel finds out that the American Express card he registered with on Monday night is no longer valid, he’ll be in the ugliest of predicaments, perhaps even forced to defend himself against criminal charges. He thinks about calling Eva and going home, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He hasn’t come all this way just to turn around and run back at the first sign of trouble, and the fact is that he doesn’t want to go home; he doesn’t want to go back. Instead, he takes the elevator to the tenth floor of the hotel, enters his suite, and dials Rosa Leightman’s number in New York. He does it on pure impulse, without having the first idea of what he wants to say to her. Fortunately, Rosa is out, and so Nick leaves a message on her answering machine – a rambling monologue that makes little or no sense, not even to him.
    I’m in Kansas City, he says. I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m here now, maybe for a long time, and I need to talk to you. It would be best if we could talk in person, but it’s probably too much to ask you to fly out here on such short notice. Even if you can’t come, please give me a call. I’m staying at the Hyatt Regency, room Ten-forty-six. I’ve been through your grandmother’s book several times now, and I think it’s the best thing she ever wrote. Thank you for giving it to me. And thank you for coming to my office on Monday. Don’t be upset when I say this, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You pounded me like a hammer, and when you stood up and left the room, my brain was in little pieces. Is it possible to fall in love with someone in ten minutes? I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if you’re married or live with someone, if you’re free or not. But it would be so nice if I could talk to you, so nice if I could see you again. It’s beautiful out here, by the way. All strange and flat. I’m standing at the window, looking out at the city. Hundreds of buildings, hundreds of roads, but everything is silent. The glass blocks out the sound. Life is on the other side of the window, but in here everything looks dead, unreal. The problem is that I can’t stay at the hotel much longer. I know a man who lives at the other end of town. He’s the only person I’ve met so far, and I’m going out to look for him in a few minutes. His name is Ed Victory. I have his card in my pocket and I’ll give you his number, just in case I’ve checked out before you call. Maybe he’ll know where I am. 816-765-4321. I’ll say it again: 816-765-4321. How odd. I just noticed that the numbers go down in order, one digit at a time. I’ve never seen a telephone number that did that before. Do you think it means something? Probably not. Unless it does, of course. I’ll let you know when I find out. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call again in a couple of days. Adios.
    A week goes by before she listens to the message. If Nick had called twenty minutes earlier, she would have answered the telephone, but Rosa has just left her apartment, and therefore she knows nothing about his call. At the moment Nick records his words on her machine, she is sitting in a yellow cab three blocks from the entrance to the Holland Tunnel, on her way to Newark Airport, where an afternoon flight will be taking her to Chicago. It’s Wednesday. Her sister is getting married on Saturday, and because the ceremony will be held at her parents’ house, and because Rosa is the maid of honor, she’s going out early to help with the preparations. She hasn’t seen her parents in some time, so she’ll take advantage of the visit to spend a few extra days with them following the wedding. Her plan is to return to New York on Tuesday morning. A man has just declared his love to her