Rivers to Blood by Michael Lister Page B

the slightest wisp of hope remained.
    As Anna crossed the room toward me, I wondered how my life might be different if we were together. Circumstances—some of them far beyond my control—had ended my marriage twice, but I wondered if Susan and I might somehow still be together if I hadn’t held in reserve some small part of my heart for Anna.
    I hadn’t thought of Susan lately. Our marriage ended badly the first time—worse the second, but I wondered how she was doing. Was she remarried? She had never been good at being alone. Did she have kids? A pain of guilt and regret ran through me as I thought about our child that might have been.
    “You don’t look too happy to see me,” Anna said.
    “Actually, thoughts of just how happy I am to see you led to darker, troubling, unhappy thoughts.”
    “I can tell,” she said. “Wanna talk about it?”
    I shook my head.
    “Sure?”
    I nodded.
    She slid into the booth across from me, a clean, fresh, slightly fruity fragrance following her, filling the air around us, and before I realized what I was doing, I started breathing a little more deeply, as if trying to inhale her.
    As I gazed into her infinitely deep brown eyes, I wondered how much of my life I had spent doing that. I thought about all we had shared since childhood, all we knew about the other, all our eyes had witnessed of the other’s life, all the words our mouths had spoken, our ears had heard, all we had perceived of the other’s silence.
    Carla walked over with a pot of coffee and a couple of cups. As she filled my cup, she said, “Y’all want anything to eat?”
    I shook my head.
    “No thanks,” Anna said. “And can I just have water?”
    “Sure,” she said, then paused for a moment to consider her. “You look tired.”
    “I am,” Anna said.
    When Carla went to retrieve the glass of water, I said, “You still look great.”
    Her face lit up and her eyes moistened. “Only because you’re looking through the eyes of love.”
    “Without denying that’s what I’m doing,” I said, “I refuse to concede that what I said is anything but absolute and objective truth.”
    While getting Anna’s water, Carla had to stop to checkout Todd and Shane and the other group of correctional officers. When she brought the water to the table, only Anna and I and Jake and Fred remained in the restaurant.
    “Jake’s eating with the enemy, isn’t he?” Anna asked.
    “What are they talking about?” I asked Carla.
    “You know I can’t reveal what clients say,” she said with a smile. “And you of all people should be glad I can’t.”
    “Know his secrets, do you?” Anna asked.
    “Just the incriminating ones,” she said.
    “The only ones worth knowing,” Anna said.
    “Why don’t you go try to get some sleep,” I said to Carla. “I’ll take Jake’s money, and we can wait on anyone else who comes in.”
    Anna nodded vigorously. “John can’t even make coffee, but I’m hell in the kitchen. Get some rest.”
    “Y’all sure?”
    “I insist.”
    “Thanks,” she said. “Come get me if you need anything.”
    Carla lived with Rudy in the back of the diner in a small area she normally tried to avoid, but by this time Rudy would be passed out in front of the TV, a long since emptied bottle of vodka on the floor beside his chair.
    As Carla walked behind the counter, she took off her apron and hung it on a hook next to the back door. After saying something to Jake and pointing to the coffee pot, she turned back toward us. “And Anna.”
    “Yeah?”
    “John has something important he needs to tell you,” she said.
    She then smiled at me and disappeared into the back.
    “You do?” she said.
    I shook my head. “She’s trying to be funny.”
    We fell silent a moment. I drank my coffee. Anna sipped her water and made a face. “I always forget Rudy’s water comes straight from the tap.”
    “But it’s the chlorine-laced sulfur that gives it flavor,” I said.
I slid my saucer and cup toward