The phone rang. He answered, but the person on the other end was silent. He knew it was Jacky. "I'm sorry," he said. She hung up.
5.
Jacky's transfer left a hole in Oliver's life. He tried to explain it to Mark Barnes without getting into details. "I mean, we were going in different directions anyway. She wanted a lot . . ."
"Yeah." Mark laughed. "How it goes."
"But I got used to seeing her. She has a house in South Portland. I used to go over there sometimes on weekends—nice place, garden out back, blueberries, the high bush kind. I pruned them. We'd have a glass of wine, get into it . . . Now, nothing. And the hell of it is: I don't feel like seeing anyone else."
"Used to take me 18 months to get over a relationship," Mark said. "Now it's 18 weeks and dropping. You know what they say about falling off a horse."
"Climb back on—right." Oliver said. "All very well for you. I'm not, like, in demand. I got lucky, was all."
"Come on! Just cuz you're four feet, two . . ."
"Five feet, two," Oliver said. "Don't you forget it."
"Ork. It doesn't mean shit," Mark said. "Do I look like Mr. Studley?"