The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction MarchApril 2012 (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction Book 122) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spilogale, Inc.
Published: 2012-02-29T23:00:00+00:00

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Repairmen

By Tim Sullivan | 3157 words

A few years back, your editor received a letter from a disgruntled reader who complained that too many stories in F&SF featured writers as protagonists. "Don't you have stories about people who work real jobs?" he asked. Perhaps that reader will take interest in this story. Or perhaps not. But you, dear reader, may proceed to this story with the author's assurance that no working stiffs were harmed during the creation of this tale.

LORNA MAILLET GOT HOME a little after dusk. She had just set her plastic grocery bags down to unlock the front door when she saw a tall man standing in the dark on her tiny porch.

"I've got pepper spray."

"You won't need it."

She squinted at the sound of the familiar voice. "Edmond?"

"Let me get those for you," he said as he stepped from the shadows and stooped to pick up the two bags.

"Okay, thanks." Lorna opened the door. Her cat Boris passed their feet like a fleeting black shadow. She waved Edmond in after Boris and shut the door behind her.

"What are you doing here, Edmond?"

"I wanted to talk."

"I haven't seen you since Victor's memorial service."

"Yes, I know."

"I tried to get in touch." She snapped on the light and set her purse down on the little table by the door. "I left messages."

"It's good to see you, Lorna," Edmond said, the bags dangling from his fists. "How are you holding up?"

She felt tears starting. "I guess I'm all right."

"I know it's been hard."

Lorna snatched a tissue from the box next to her purse and dabbed under her eyes. "Edmond, why did he do it?"

"He wanted to go home."

"That kind of talk doesn't mean anything to me."

"But it's true."

"Sorry, I'm not religious." She was sure Victor hadn't gone anywhere. He had shot himself only days after she broke it off with him. Her therapist had assured her that his suicide was neither her fault nor her responsibility, but she couldn't get over thinking that if she had just been patient a little longer, maybe.…

Lorna blew her nose and led Edmond to the kitchen.

"You can put those bags down here," Lorna said, pointing at the counter by the fridge. "And have a seat."

She took out a bottle of cabernet and poured them each a glass, leaving the bottle on the table. After she shook some crunchy cat food into a bowl for the yowling Boris, she quickly put the groceries away and sat down facing Edmond. He wasn't as handsome as Victor, but there was something kind in his gray eyes that made her like him and trust him.

"Here's to Victor," Lorna said and clinked her glass against Edmond's.

They downed the wine.

"You two used to practically finish each other's sentences," she said.

"We had similar upbringings," Edmond replied in his peculiar accent.

"You guys seemed pretty exotic."

"Did we?"

"You know you did," she said. "The first time I met Victor—what was it, three years ago?—I thought he was from South America," she said. "Then I found out he didn't speak Spanish, so I thought maybe Israel or Hungary.

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