Read Red House Blues for Free Online Page B

that to Tony. Tell
him I’m putting it behind me and moving on. It might even be true
eventually.”
    “You can tell me to mind my own business but
you need to find the notebooks, Suze. What if they explain
everything? You’d want to know, right?” said Claire. “There’s
another concern you probably haven’t considered, a purely practical
matter. What if someone else is performing songs that Sean wrote?
What if Sean’s being ripped off? Ripping you off too since you’re
his widow. He worked hard on those lyrics and they were good. You
said so yourself. He deserves credit. Even if the lyrics are just
stuck in a drawer someplace, you still need to find them and maybe
get them published or something.”
    “You’re kidding, right? Even given the
remote chance some freakishly wealthy Punk band would want to buy
them from me, how can you seriously think I’d agree to profit from
Sean’s lyrics? You see me as Courtney Love all of a sudden? That’s
pretty low, Claire. I thought you knew me better than that.”
    Claire strode out of the room toward the
kitchen.
    “But.” Suzan shouted at her retreating back.
“I’m waiting for the but. But if the notes are valuable Sean should
get credit. But I owe it to myself. But, but, but. Damn it, what I
say is everyone else needs to butt out. So, can’t we just put these
boxes away, clean up the place and put on a pot of coffee?”
    Suzan gave the box guitar case a kick and
headed for the kitchen.
    “I’m already putting on the coffee,” said
Claire. “It’s something to do while you think.”
    “And what is it I’m supposed to be thinking
about?”
    “About when we’re leaving for Seattle.”
    “We’re not going to Seattle,” said Suzan.
“Even if I agreed with you that there’s unfinished business in
Seattle, which I don’t, it would be something I’d be doing for
myself. I couldn’t drag you into it.”
    “I can accept that, though you know you can
count on me if you need me. It wouldn’t be that hard for me to take
some time off. I doubt the Ford would make the trip but we could
borrow or rent a car . . .”
    “Just drop it. It’s not going to happen,
Claire. I can think of at least two reasons I can’t run off like a
maniac to Seattle even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” she said.
“In case you have forgotten I just shishkababed my hand and have a
zillion stitches that won’t come out 'til next week. Second, I
still have two weeks until the end of the quarter and haven’t even
started the term paper for Metcalf. Which, as it turns out I’ll
have to type one-handed.”
    “Okay. I see your point. But . . . here’s
the ‘but’ you wanted . . . if you don’t go down there, if you run
away from this, how are you going to live with yourself?”
    “I’ll cope in the same way everyone else
does. I’ll take each day as it comes. And Claire, even if I wanted
to go down there on some fool’s errand I can’t afford it. The
funeral took every last dime I had saved for grad school.”
    “ You could catch the Amtrak
out of Fairhaven. That’s cheap. Then when you get there you can
rent a bed in a hostel.”
    “You can’t be serious. A hostel? Bunked in
with sweaty teenage backpackers? That alone would keep any sane
person in Bellingham.”
    “You only need a bed, Suze, not a spa
experience. And from there you can e-mail me every day so I won’t
go out of my mind with worry while you are in the big nasty
city.”
    “No, the answer is no. I realize you think
I’m making a mistake and I’ll regret it. You’ll have to deal with
that. I don’t need anything in Seattle. The Sean part of my life is
over and done. All I need now is that cup of coffee. Then maybe you
could help me clean up a little around here. This place is a
dump.”
    “You noticed. That’s a good sign, anyway.
Got any cookies around here?”
    “No. I had to throw them out a while
back.”
     
    ***
     
    It took longer to put the apartment into an
approximation of civilized