An Absence of Light

“Sure,” she said. Grabbing a steno pad and pencil, she followed him into his office. He closed the door behind them, and she went over and stood in front of his desk. He noticed she had freshened up after lunch, brushed through her hair, put on fresh lipstick, tucked and pulled at her suit until it looked as crisp and fresh as it had when she came in that morning.

“Sit down,” he said, and he walked around her and sat in one of the other chairs opposite her in front of his desk. She held her steno pad and pencil in her scarlet-nailed Fingers, resting on her lap. Her expression was anticipatory, though not anxious. She already had sensed this was not going to be a routine conversation.

“Lara, I need your help with something that’s… out of the ordinary,” Graver said.

Her expression did not change, but a slight vertical shadow, the beginning of a puzzled frown, appeared between her dark eyebrows.

He crossed his legs, trying to appear more relaxed than he actually felt, though he suspected that none of his consternation was escaping Lara. As always, there were things that passed between them about which neither of them ever spoke. It was one of the peculiar characteristics of their relationship that much of what they felt for each other, whether it was amorous or simply the affection of friendship, was never articulated. That, of course, was Graver’s decision, or, as he thought of it more often lately, his fault.

“I’m going to be asking you for a favor, Lara, something that goes beyond your job description,” he said. “It’s something you’d ask of a friend, a close friend… someone you’d trust… no matter what happened.”

The shadow in her expression lightened at these words, but the uncertainty remained.

“Is it personal or business?” she asked.

“Both,” he said. “And that’s the problem.”

He saw her stiffen. “Does it involve a woman?” There was an unmistakable tension in the question.

“No,” he said, “it’s nothing like that.”

As he looked at her, he realized how much he relied on her, how much he wanted to rely on her in order to weather the storm of the coining events. He felt like a doctor looking through a microscope at the cells of his own recently discovered disease. There was the danger of the loss of rationality. There was the tendency to see the vague, squirming shadows swimming in their own viscosity as something other than what they were, an inclination to see them as manifestations of Evil, Death, Divine Judgment Graver wanted someone-Lara-to be there when his fears grew to mythological proportions, when his doubts grew more articulate and wiser than his convictions, and he was in danger of believing a lie.

She might have seen something of this fear in his eyes, in his manner, or sensed it in the tone of his voice. Whatever it was, her face softened as they stared at each other, and she nodded.

Jesus Christ If he had any sense at all he would not let this woman out of his sight Without any further explanation, Graver began at the beginning and told her everything. Everything. More than he was going to tell either Neuman or Paula. More than he was going to tell Arnette. As he talked his voice grew quieter, an unconscious habit when he was preoccupied beyond the moment about what he was saying. He talked to her as if she were the only other person in his life, allowing her to see the fear and the doubt, making no excuses for his confusion and the pain he felt for all the betrayal. He tried to give her the perspective from inside his own mind, to give her some semblance of the stress of his own emotions.

When he finally finished talking, she sat silently, looking at him. She hadn’t moved a muscle. Then she dropped her eyes to her lap, to her hands.

“This is hard to believe,” she said, her voice studied, thoughtful. “You must be…”

“In a state of shock,” Graver said.

She looked up. “Yes, I would imagine so.” Then hesitantly, “I’m sorry about Dean. Very sorry. I can see… I know how this is hurting you.”

Graver shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You understand… the risks will be real,” he said. “This is off the books. You’ll be putting your job at risk. There aren’t any guidelines, no operating procedures for this. I’m just going to do what I think has to be done. It’s a judgment call; my judgment call. I don’t want to mislead you about this.”

“No, I understand that,” she said. “It’s just… so unexpected, a little breathtaking.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t happen. “It’s just so… I don’t know, strange, I guess, when you know these people.”

One hand slid to the hem of her skirt, and she pulled at it to keep it from creeping any higher on her thighs.

“I apologize for putting you in this position, Lara. It’s awkward for me too. I didn’t do this lightly. And, honestly, I’ll completely understand if you feel that you can’t… see your way clear to do this.”

This last sounded disingenuous to him, hackneyed, and contrived, which he regretted. But he was desperate enough to do it anyway.