Read No Such Person for Free Online

trimming. They do not keep her feet warm. The colors of her shoes and socks seem irrational; seem hideous.
    She wants to vomit.
    She wants the lights to dim. Bulbs glare at her. Even with her eyes closed, the light gives her a headache.
    She cannot remember being without her cell phone. At night, at home, she does not even put her phone on the bedside table, but nestles it next to her pillow. She sleeps around it, like a partner, never letting it fall to the floor. She prefers clothing where she can tuck her phone into a pocket. Otherwise, she has a tiny case that can snap on a belt or hang on a thin strap. Sometimes she resorts to a purse, although there’s something cluttered and annoying about handbags that she despises.
    They ask about his phone. They ask over and over. She could answer, but she doesn’t.
    She soothes herself with sweet safe memory.
    Last Saturday morning, six days ago, when the state trooper says that Jason Firenza can go, she follows him down the steps from her yard to the dock, planning to say some comforting good-bye. Offer some hopeful thought. But he takes her hand and looks at her almost with fear.
    “Would you come with me?” he asks. “Please? This whole thing is so…” He searches for the right word. She is touched that he is not tossing out some swearword, but is trying to find the adjective that fits this nightmare.
    She has always wanted to be a physician; to cure by cutting or prescribing. Standing there on the narrow dock, holding his hand, she wants to be a nurse or a mother to him; to cure by kindness and caring.
    Poor Jason doesn’t want to be alone with his fears. She will keep him company; ward off his guilt. They are together for hours, dealing with the marina, trying to get into the hospital to see Derry. But Derry is in surgery. By the time Jason drops her at the cottage, she is in love.
    Jason asks her out.
    Her mouth is dry and her heart rushing at the thought of an actual date. Dates are rare in her world. The college men she knows would rather deal with cancer than commitment. The armor of the college man is the group.
    She is dizzy with wanting to be at Jason’s side.
    Dizzy because this afternoon he needs her to protect himself from the pain of Derry’s accident, but tonight—this will be solely for the pleasure of her company.
    They don’t take the canoe after all. She steps again into the
Paid at Last.
When she steals a glance at Jason, she blushes. They tie up at a different marina. He suggests that she could powder her nose in the marina office. It’s so sweet that his first thought is her comfort; that he would phrase it in such an old-fashioned way.
    When she comes out, he is waiting for her, smiling. It’s a sad smile, full of his burden: Derry’s injuries.
    They walk through a parking lot for cars, and then a parking lot filled with boats for sale, across an acre of grass in need of mowing and finally over the gravel parking lot of a riverbank restaurant.
    She has eaten here many times. Brightly painted tables are scattered on the deck, porch and grass. There is seating inside, for bad weather or when the insects are intolerable. When her family eats here, motoring over in their Zodiac, they eat out on the pier, sitting on narrow wooden benches, their table a piece of plywood that folds out like a gate. They love dining fifty feet out in the river.
    She and Jason order. The waiter leaves. The two of them talk. Dinner arrives quickly. Or else time flies in his presence.
    She is amazed by the depth of her crush on him. It’s all she can do to breathe, never mind chew.
    He smiles at her—oh, but he has a lovely smile!—and waves his phone. He has to take this call, he apologizes, and he walks out of hearing range. She is mildly surprised. People her parents’ age might search for a private spot, but she and her friends do not care what they say in front of each other.
    When he returns, he is sliding his phone into his shirt pocket. She knows her phones