Pieces of You by J F Elferdink Page B

either denying ole Jim or making lots more money. How about meeting in that little Thai restaurant on Lincoln and Fifteenth after the lunch bunch scatters, say one-thirty?”
    Both agreed and the little group broke up, returning to their separate office cubicles.
     
     

17
A BANKER’S DAY
     
    Mark sat at his desk, staring into space, while the phone rang and the paperwork on a half-dozen loan requests gathered dust. Something inside, to which he couldn’t put a name, was nagging at him. As if that wasn’t confusing enough, there was a ringing in his ear that almost sounded like an alarm clock going off. What was happening to him? Was his conscience trying to awaken some guilt he had pushed deep into his subconscious?
                  To divert his attention from this mental noise, he took out the wallet-sized photo of his long-time girlfriend, Peggy. It had been nearly nine years ago since they’d met in the VA hospital. Even though he wasn’t a ladies’ man—a new date every few weeks had always seemed a waste of time to him—he wasn’t sure that marriage was what he needed either.
    Peg’s gentle nagging about having a baby, over the last couple of years, was becoming more palatable. Her contention, that parenting would be a wonderful thing for both of them, was less easily dismissed than when she had first proposed marriage for a baby’s sake. Peggy was pretty, slim and highly intelligent with a driving ambition to be a healer. She certainly qualified as a good match, so why was he procrastinating?
     
    ***
     
    Janine was in her Detroit apartment, tossing and turning throughout that November night of 2007. Finally giving up, she propped herself up in bed and grabbed her journal from its prominent place on her nightstand.
     
    How can I sleep? I have received no news from Martin for almost two days, even after I sent him a message expressing my intent to come to his father’s bedside.
    Praying makes me feel that I am doing something, but I want to do much more. I want to be holding his hand and looking into his eyes even if he can’t respond. He’ll know I’m there.
     
    Mark, where are you? I’m less independent since I met you. Do you feel the same? Sometimes I sense you knocking at the door of my heart. My heart rises with anticipation, and then sinks with despair when you’re not there. When will you return?
     
    In my heart I know that pieces of you are with me, but I long for your touches and kisses, not just the part of you I hold in my heart. Although I’m trying to apply faith to your healing, the troubling thoughts won’t vanish.
     
    Wrung out by worry, Janine was still holding her open journal in her hands when sleep eventually came.
     
    ***
     
    Startled back to full consciousness by the sound of the phone ringing, young Mark looked around the familiar cubicle with the sensation that something was radically wrong. The dream state he left behind had been nightmarish.
    He could not erase from his mind the images of a fully-clothed body lodged beneath a suspension bridge; of rows of deteriorating buildings with all their windows broken out and graffiti-decorated façades; of haggard faces that looked strangely familiar.
    The meaning was unclear to him, but he was certain it had something to do with the meeting earlier in the day.
     
    Picking up the phone, he heard the shrill voice of Doris Stuard, the stodgy department receptionist, stumbling over the last name of his 4:15 appointment.
    Mark had been on the interview team for the receptionist position, battling doggedly with colleagues who preferred a stunning face and figure to a diligent and affable disposition.
    “My dear Mrs. Stuard, I am sincerely grateful that our customers are never ignored or subjected to personal phone calls or gossipy conversations. If only we had a few more like you!”
    Doris smiled at the straightforward compliment. Mark never resorted to the flowery, hollow expressions of the more extroverted loan