Dani Shapiro

A pause.

Do you want me to call his wife?

My mother and Mrs. Klein had met each other at a few school functions back when none of this could have struck anyone as a remote possibility.

Yes, I said, call her.

I'll do it right now, my mother said.

I sat by the phone and watched the minutes tick by.

I pictured Lenny's wife answering the phone with a chirpy hello and my mother's slow, steady explanation of why she was calling.

I had set in motion a chain of events which was now unstoppable.

More than 20 minutes passed before my mother called me back.

Well, I did it, she said.

You talked to her?

The world felt unreal, hallucinatory.

Yes, she called me a liar.

She told me she has a happy marriage to a man who travels a lot, that he's on his way to California, and I said, no, he's on his way to see my daughter.

My mother sounded proud of herself, immersed in the drama of the moment.

How did she seem, I asked.

What do you mean?

Lenny's wife, was she angry?

No, my mother said slowly.

She just didn't believe me, Danny.