Noah's Compass
for work?” he asked.
    “Huh? No, I changed before I left. You would not believe my uniform. It’s polyester! And pink!”
    He set her bag on the floor beside her. (In his current condition, he couldn’t imagine lugging it all the way to the den.) Then he lowered himself into the other armchair. “What do you think of my apartment?” he asked.
    “Your old one had a fireplace.”
    “I never used it, though.”
    “And your old one didn’t have homicidal maniacs climbing through the window.”
    “Door,” he said. He pressed his hands between his knees. “But one assumes that won’t be an everyday occurrence.”
    Kitty didn’t look convinced. “Anyway,” she said. “Let’s see: what am I supposed to ask. Do you know what year this is? Can you tell me your last name?”
    “Yes, yes …”
    “And you don’t feel dizzy or sleepy?”
    “Certainly not,” he said.
    In fact, he had slept for most of the afternoon, waking only for check-up calls from Louise, Louise again, and his sister. He had been troubled by strange, vivid dreams and some sort of olfactory hallucination—a smell of vinegar—but he had answered each of the calls in his brightest voice. “Yes, fine, thanks! Thank you for calling!” Louise had seemed reassured, but his sister, who knew him better, was harder to deceive. “Are you positive you’re all right?” she had asked. “Do you think I ought to come over?”
    “That would be a waste of your time. I’m fine. And Kitty’s due here shortly,” he’d said.
    “Oh. Well, okay.”
    She was glad to be let off the hook, he could tell. (He knew her pretty well, too.) They didn’t actually set eyes on each other more than once or twice a year.
    Kitty was examining the lamp table next to her chair. She pulled out the drawer and peered inside. “What was in here?” she asked Liam. “Any valuables?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Nothing at all?”
    “It’s usually got, you know, pens and pencils and memo pads, but I hadn’t unpacked them yet. In fact, as far as I can tell, I’m not missing a single thing. My wallet was still on the bureau, even—the first place you’d think a burglar would look. I guess he just didn’t have time.”
    “Lucky,” Kitty said.
    “Lucky, right. Except …”
    Kitty was bending over now to rummage in the outside pocket of her duffel bag. She drew forth a flat, silvery computer of the type that Liam believed was called a “notebook,” a rather attractive pink iPod, and finally a cell phone no bigger than a fun-size candy bar. (So much equipment, these young people seemed to need!) She flipped the phone open and put it to her ear and said, “Hello?” And then, after a moment, “Well, sorry! I had it on Vibrate. Yes, of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Yes. He’s fine. You want to talk to him?”
    Liam sat forward expectantly, but Kitty said, “Oh. Okay. Bye.” She snapped the phone shut and told Liam, “Mom.”
    “She didn’t want to talk to me?”
    “Nope. That woman is eternally checking up on me. She thinks I might be with Damian.”
    “Ah.”
    “This business about me staying with you? It’s just an excuse. Really she wants to make sure I’m properly chaperoned every everlasting minute, and now that she’s got a boyfriend she’s too busy to do it herself, so she ships me off to you.”
    “Your mom has a boyfriend?” Liam asked.
    “Or something like that.”
    “I didn’t realize.”
    But Kitty was punching phone keys. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up.”
    Liam collected himself with some effort and rose to see about supper.
    The smell of vinegar persisted. It seemed to emanate from his own skin. He asked Kitty over supper (canned asparagus soup and saltines), “Do I smell like vinegar to you?”
    “Huh?”
    “I keep thinking I smell like vinegar.”
    She fixed him with a suspicious stare and said, “Do you know what year this is?”
    “Stop asking me that!”
    “Mom told me to. It’s not my idea.”
    “Half the time I

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