The Homeless Millionaire

It was close to midday when I woke up, and Tracy was gone.

I was blissfully unaware of that for a long while. After I got up, I made myself a coffee in the kitchen and spent some time drinking it, standing at the window and grinning like a moron. It was a beautiful day, and I actually made all sorts of plans for our day together.

After consuming a couple of coffees and a couple of cigarettes I made a cup for her, regretting that there was no milk—I already knew she liked milk in hers. I was eager to find out about all of her likes and dislikes. I was ready to walk to the nearest store, over six miles each way, to get her milk! No sacrifice was too great.

The only reason why I didn't go to that fucking store was that I calculated I wouldn't be able to get back before she woke up. I drank coffee and smoked and kept checking my watch and at one in the afternoon I decided it was time to show Tracy my brand-new, smiling face. My scowl was gone: such was the power of love.

I went and knocked on her bedroom door. There was no answer. I knocked again: no answer. I opened the door slightly, and peered inside.

She had made up her bed very neatly, I had to give her that. She'd brought two small suitcases with her: they were gone. My heart went down to my stomach and then up again, all the way to my throat. There was nothing to indicate she'd ever been in that room. Even her smell was gone: she'd left the window open.

I spent the next few minutes wandering around the house as if I were looking for her, as if we were playing hide-and-seek. I was on automatic, I needed some time for the facts to sink in. When they did, I started playing detective.

I began by giving her room a thorough examination. I even looked under the fucking bed for clues: there were none. I went out of the house and walked up and down the driveway, looking for tire marks. I found plenty, but I couldn't tell which were fresh and which were old.

Could she have left on foot, carrying two suitcases? They weren't big, but I had no idea how much they weighed. I'd offered to carry them in for her when she'd shown up, but she'd declined. Was that a clue?

I resumed wandering around the house, smoking like a maniac and trying to work out what had happened. I hadn't heard any cars driving up, but then I'd slept like a dead man. Had she bothered to look into my room to tell me she was leaving? Why hadn't she left a note? My sketchpad was on prominent display in the living room, pencil included. And there also was a small notepad with a ballpoint pen on top of the fridge. Why hadn't she left me a note? Why did she leave? Why? Why? Why?

I didn't get an answer. What I got was a cigarette cough, so when I'd finished the pack I resisted the urge to open a new one and went to the bathroom instead and washed my face and gargled with water. I saw in the mirror that my scowl was back.

I was still looking for an answer, so I got the binoculars and went out on the deck and had a good look at the house across the lake. Nothing was stirring over there. I had to do something, I wasn't capable of relaxing or even sitting down. I knew that I'd spend the rest of the day wandering around the house like a demented fool if I stayed inside.

I ate a quick breakfast without sitting down and was hoofing it down the track within a few minutes to pay yet another visit to that house. I had no idea of what I'd do once I got there. I was getting close when I thought I could hear a car approaching, and I dived to hide in the roadside bushes like a scared animal. I forced myself to sit still and smoke a cigarette and calm down.

When I finally got there, I didn't walk up to the door and knock. I spent at least half an hour creeping around as if there was a deadly ambush waiting. There was no car, and I conducted another senseless examination of the tire tracks in the driveway. After some effort, I worked up the nerve to go up to a window and look inside the house. I was half-convinced I'd see something that belonged in a horror movie.

I didn't. I saw nothing of any interest through the three windows that didn't have blinds or drawn curtains. One of these was the kitchen window, and it was pretty clear no one had used that kitchen recently.

There was just one more thing I could try. I walked up to the front door, and knocked. After a while, I knocked again. Then I banged on that door for a good half minute before trying the handle. The door was locked. Surprise, surprise.

I smoked a cigarette by the front door, getting used to the idea that Tracy was gone, and that I'd never learn why. Some part of me kept hoping there would be a last-minute reprieve, that I would hear a car coming before I finished my cigarette. But nothing happened, except for the appearance of a chipmunk that emerged from behind a bush, gave me the evil eye, and scurried back into the forest.

I started on the long, long walk back home. All of a sudden I felt tired, so tired that I had to stop several times along the way. During one of those stops, just short of the turnoff from the main track, I heard a car and got all excited. But it didn't turn—I heard it drive past, going in the direction of Roch's family cottage.

I got there just a few minutes later. The Toyota Corolla that belonged to Roch's mother was parked right by the front door. Roch was bending over the open trunk, taking out a huge coil of thick rope. He heard my steps crunch on the gravel and looked up and grinned.

"Mike," he said. "Good to see you. I was worried not to find you home. Where have you been? What's happened? Man, you look like shit."

"Thank you," I said. "Let me give you hand with that stuff. What's that rope for? Can I use it to hang myself?"

"Sure," said Roch. "But first you'll tell me why, okay?"

"Okay."

But I didn't. I helped Roch unpack the car and found I was so tired I was dropping things and bumping into doorways. Roch noticed, and said:

"Hey, Mike. Why don't you go and get some rest. You look all in."

"I am," I said. "I've just walked several miles and—"

He cut me off with a raised hand. He said:

"We can talk later. Go and lie down."

"I will," I said.