Man in the Empty Suit by Sean Ferrell

Author:Sean Ferrell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Literary, Fiction
ISBN: 9781616951269
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2012-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

in tHe evenings I visited Phil, and sometimes Sara. I rarely spoke to Sara alone, but when I did, the conversations were quiet and unimportant. I felt nervous around her. She never brought the sale of her services up again, but I saw them in practice every day. I didn’t know how expansive their act was until the night I found a note taped to the hotel door. The note, written in Sara’s clean hand, read, “Dinner party at 8. Please come.” I heard Phil’s voice dictate the last line: “Please bring drink.”

I had never reclaimed my flask from Phil, but I returned to the raft atop the hotel to find the bottle of whiskey I’d taken weeks before from the bar while the Elders slept under the film projector’s light. In my room I showered, dressed, and left the hotel through the main exit.

Phil’s apartment was packed, two dozen people filling the space available, toes touching, glasses and jars sloshing drinks on pant legs and dresses. Laughter poured out the door into the hallway. Emma lounged in a chair near the door and reached out to touch my elbow. I thanked her for finding me my job with Emily, and she shrugged. “You look like a man who always has options.” She pointed to the tables near the windows. “They have food and drink over there. Too far for me, but you go.”

I said I’d bring her back something and struggled past people who smiled or glowered depending on how heavily I stepped on their feet. Two librarians from the station smiled and waved. The food was picked over. I placed my bottle of whiskey on the table, unopened, found a small glass jar I hoped was clean, and filled it with water. When I turned, I found myself face-to-face with Phil. He looked at my drink, then at me. “Gin? You brought gin?”

“Water.” I held the glass up between us. We regarded each other through the distortion. “I brought the whiskey.”

“Ah, yes. Okay.” He wasn’t drunk yet. I wondered how he managed to function so well without food. I had never seen him eat, only drink. “I can’t stand gin. Have you seen Sara?”

“Not yet.”

“She was looking for you.” His eyes fought to focus on trays laden with moldy cheese and stale crackers. His chagrin was obvious. “I think . . . ah, you know—”

I didn’t, and didn’t ask for an explanation, since I knew I wouldn’t get a clear one. Phil exposed truths the way clouds exposed the sun—accidental, brief, and sudden. He dipped his nose into a few bottles, made a gasp of discovery, and filled his glass to the top with a thin red liquid. He smiled at me over the stuff, took a drink, grimaced, and smiled again, deeper. “Sara needs someone to watch over.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s a caretaker. She needs a project. That’s why she stays with me. I can’t pay her much.” He stopped; embarrassment flushed his cheeks. I

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