A face like many others, a look like far too many
Boise, Idaho – 18 October 2008
My dear Emily,
Today I woke up earlier than usual, with an odd feeling of malaise and anxiety that kept me from getting back to sleep. So I started to think about us again, about our daughter who has been gone for more than four years, literally vanishing into thin air. I thought about this era, when people smile very little and unwillingly, and I thought about a lot more. Maybe my sleeplessness can be blamed on last night’s pork loin, drowned in a hard-to-define sauce that the menu described as a “delicious combination of sesame-flavored melted cheese”. Despite the fact that it was just 6 a.m., I went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
You know that all I have for breakfast is coffee, but I like to sit there reading the paper and listening to the still-sleepy chatter of those around me. It makes me feel a little less lonely in this job as a rep for Rosenberg Brothers, the “Everything for your car” company, a job I find increasingly stressful, as it keeps me away from you for far too long. There weren’t many people in the room, and most were busy listening to the weather, which the inevitably blonde and smiling reporter announced on the TV that is strategically positioned where everyone can see it. It seems that we’re getting a blizzard today and the temperature will drop quite a bit
I’ll leave all this to others with more time on their hands. I’m too taken up by the daily hope that that face will emerge from the yellowed picture in the suburban supermarket and come to file Brutus’ nails.
With the most desperate love and kisses from your husband,