Reflex by Steven Gould Page B

that's for sure." She sank deeper into the chair. "I thought he was a hallucination. I must've been breakin' pretty hard when I saw him. He kept vanishing and reappearing on me." She pointed at her coat, draped over the luggage stand by the door. "He took me to get that coat. One minute I was shivering in the snow and the next thing I know, I'm standing in Macy's, only it's not the Macy's out at Pentagon City, but the one in New York, and he's asking me which coat I like. The clerks didn't want to come anywhere near me, but he was like a cat on a rat and wouldn't take no for an answer. When I found this one, I never took it off again. He paid for it with hundred dollar bills and we walked away, but then I found myself back on the street, in D.C. I know something happened but it was all so weird, I don't know what was real and what wasn't." She reached out toward the coat. "Except for that, I guess. I keep it on too much, even when it's hot, because I'm sure it's going to dissolve sometime soon. Disappear into thin air like my Angel."
    "Your angel?"
    "Well, what else should I call him?"
    Millie took the picture out again. "His name is Davy. He's my husband." It took her a moment to add, "And he's missing." The room was out of focus but when she cleaned her glasses, it didn't help. She blew her nose and that helped a bit. "When did you get your coat?"
    "January third. It was that arctic air mass came down and froze all the Florida orange trees. In D.C. it got to three below zero. Are you going to vanish, too?"
    Damn. That was two months ago.
    "What makes you think that?" Millie remembered her jump from West Texas to Oklahoma and her stomach lurched. It's possible, I suppose.
    "Well, an angel would be married to an angel, right?" She eyed Millie's blue raincoat. "Or maybe you're the Blue Lady."
    "The Blue Lady?" Millie shook her head and let it go. "Is that the last time you saw Davy? When he bought you your coat?"
    "He checked on me a month ago. He asked how I was doing and gave me some money."
    "But not last week?"
    Sojee shook her head.
    The corners of Millie's mouth turned down sharply, surprising her. Keep it together, girl! You can cry later.
    She took a deep breath and expelled it through tight lips. Like Lamaze breathing, she thought, and that nearly caused the tears to rise back to the surface.
    Sojee was watching her, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. "Did you just waste a good meal on me?"
    Millie shook her head. "I never saw a meal less wasted." She sucked on her lower lip and looked at Sojee. "We need desert, I think."
    Sojee opened her mouth, then closed it. After a few random tongue thrusts, she said, "Bring it on."
    They kept it simple, apple pie à la mode and coffee—decaf for Sojee.
    "What sort of name is Sojee, anyway?"
    "Short for Sojourner. My full name is Sojourner Truth Johnson, but how on earth do you go around with that mouthful when you're six? Sojee is what it's always been, really."
    Both woman were quiet for a moment. Then Sojee said, "I could ask around... check the shelters and the kitchens. Somebody probably saw something."
    Millie felt her throat tighten up again. "I would be very grateful." She had to blow her nose suddenly and snatched up the room service napkin still in her lap. She felt like one raw wound. I thought I was holding this in. Kindness had breached her defenses where adversity hadn't.
    Sojee was looking at her when she finished wiping her eyes. "I should get going, so you could rest."
    Millie started to agree absently, then shook her head. "Get going where? Didn't you say you hadn't slept today." She looked pointedly at the two queen beds.
    Sojee's eyes were moist now. "You sure?"
    "Nobody else is using that bed, Sojee. You might as well." She smiled. "It's in my best interest to have you well rested tomorrow, when you're asking around."
     

SIX
"Now you can mop the floor."
     
    The last time I spent this much time in one room was over fourteen years ago and even then I left it to