“No? What is it then?”
Eddie wiped his brow. He hadn’t realized that he was sweating, but he was. More than a little bit. The napkin was surprisingly wet.
“So Benny—you remember why I sent our buddy Alex that picture in the first place?”
“Sure. Of course I do. Because he wanted to put it in their fabulous matching program, right? And do you remember what I commented when you told me that? I said I didn’t give a good goddamn who he matched me with or whether the guy looked like me or Elvis or Mickey Mouse. Whatever he comes up with, tell him it’s terrific and toss the fellow’s picture in the trash.”
“It’s not that simple, though, Bennie—Hey, you want another drink? I’m thinking that I just might need one, so….”
He did need one. This was gonna be a hell of a lot harder than he thought. He hadn’t quite decided yet whether to yank that picture of the kid out of his jacket pocket—the dashing young mechanic from Phoenix going for his PhD—And as for that other print-out from the FaceMate site, the Russian girl—Whew! Maybe Ben was handling a thirty-year-old photo of Lizzie pretty frigging well, but to see her feature-for-feature duplicate, alive, breathing, walking, talking, living even today, on the hoof, in the fucking flesh—well that was a different matter altogether. It was doubtful at best if Ben would ever be entirely prepared for that.
At any rate, the second round of martinis came just a minute or so after the waiter took their order. Eddie tossed his lubricating liquid down in a couple of gulps. He needed the stimulation. But Ben? Benny just sort of nursed his beverage like the designated fellow who’d been deputed to drive. It would have been far, far better for Eddie if Ben had downed a couple of double-vodkas more.
“OK then—So, like I started telling you, what we need to talk about isn’t the picture itself—it’s the response our buddy Alex got when he scanned the damn thing in. Look, I know you said you had no interest in the matches; I got that. But let me ask you something: What if the person they came up with as a match is really, really close?”
“Well, how close would you categorize as ‘really-really’?”
“I would say what would constitute ‘really-really’ is pretty damn exact.”
“Exact, you’re saying? You mean like a twin? Like a person’s double?”
“Look, how about you decide? I’ll show it to you and you can judge the closeness for yourself. But before I dig it out, I want to be positive it isn’t gonna put you into one of those multiple-week-long funks.”
Benny laughed, but it was a nervous sort of laugh, and his eyes weren’t smiling the way his lips were, not even faintly.
“Why should it put me in a funk, Eddie? The guy doesn’t look like me now, does he? They matched this fellow with the photo of a kid who was only twenty-three. Why should I be upset if they found a guy who looked the way I did thirty years ago, huh?”
“Why? Because it’s spooky—that’s why. Because it’s more like you than anybody would have even dreamed. Because … because when I showed it to Carole—your wife, I’m saying—she thought the picture was another picture of you when you were back in your college days. I would’ve thought that myself if I hadn’t found the box that goddam image came from. The kid is you, Bennie, I’m telling you—he’s you. He’s your identical double the way you were thirty years ago. So, like I say, the FaceMate picture is spooky as hell.”
“OK, so—enough already—are you gonna show it to me or not?”
“I will. Just keep your shirt on for a minute, can you? I want to ask you something else first. Just a hypothetical—OK?”
“Sure, hypotheticals are fine. Go ahead and ask.”
“Drink that other martini before I ask you. Toss it down first, then I’ll hit you with my question—OK?”
OK, he nodded, drank obediently, then looked up at Eddie with his patented blue-eyed searching stare. He wasn’t drunk. You couldn’t get Ben drunk on two martinis, or even three; he was way too tolerant a drinker for that. But he looked a trifle more mellow than he’d looked when he first came in the door and took his seat. Now was as good a time as any to bring the thorny subject up, thought Eddie, and so:
“OK, so what if—this is purely a hypothetical, remember—What if our whiz kids tried to match the other side of the picture with a mate—What would you think of that?”
“The other side…? Oh for God’s sake! You’re not talking about….”
“I’m not saying they’d do something that looney-tunes, but how would you feel if you heard they did?”
“Don’t let them, Eddie, you hear me? Tell them they’re forbidden to do anything like that. That’s crazy! Nuts! The mere idea is so idiotic it isn’t worth even talking about.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing when I….”
“When you what? Tell me! When you WHAT?!”
“When I….” Eddie stopped and mopped his brow again. He would have taken another slug of the martini, but the remnants of his drink were gone. “When I sent the picture to them in the first place—without cutting it up, I mean. I, uh … I’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was.”
Bennie’s head drooped down and his eyes teared up, but he didn’t say a word.
“I know how much you loved each other, Bennie. I’ll never forget all that.”
“How much we loved each other? I don’t think you even realize how much we loved each other. I don’t think anybody does. Let me ask you something, Eddie: Have you ever been in love like that?”
‘I don’t know. Probably not, though. I don’t think too many people have—do you?”
“I don’t know either. All I know is what it was like for me. It was like—how can I even describe it to you? It was like—the time Lizzie and I were together, I mean—those six years or seven or however long it was—It was like that part of my life was in technicolor and all the rest before and afterward—everything else was in black and white. I mean, for years it was only black, but nowadays I guess there’s a little white showing through. But when I was with her—OK, let me ask you something else: You’ve had a lot of women in your life, Eddie; all kinds, all ethnic varieties, young, old, tall, short, pretty awesome, pretty awful, whatever—Did you ever really mesh with any of them? Did you ever feel that there wasn’t any boundary between you and this woman in your arms? That the two of you were linked together in such a way that you lost yourself in one another; that you didn’t really think of yourself as person distinct from her or of her as a person distinct from you? Did you ever feel that kind of closeness to a woman, even for an instant, even in the middle of the act? If you did, then maybe you can understand the way we loved each other, Lizzie and I. If you didn’t—if you haven’t ever felt that way about a girl—there’s not much point in my trying to explain it to you.”
“Jesus, Ben!—what you’re describing: How often do you think that happens in a person’s life? You know? I was trying to explain the way you and Lizzie were with each other to Rajiv—on the plane that day we flew them home—and the way I put it was: I told him that maybe one person in a thousand loves another person the way you loved Liz. And for the two of you to find the exact other person who would love them back in the same amazing way—that’s one in a million, isn’t it? One in a thousand-thousand? That’s what I told Rajiv, but honestly I think it’s even rarer than what I told him—What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put a number on it. I’ve looked at it like that though, and the more I think of it, the more I come to realize how lucky I was to have even had those feelings for the six amazing years I was with Liz. For a long time I didn’t even let myself think about her—the pain of remembering was just too great. But lately, especially since you found that picture and brought it to me, the good memories are starting to overcome the bad. I’m not saying there isn’t any sadness left—even after thirty some-odd years it never completely goes away. But lately I seem to be able to focus on the joy I felt with Lizzie and filter out the agony of loss. If Lizzie were alive today,
I’m positive she’d want me to remember her with all the happiness and none of the sorrow I felt back then. I owe that to Carole too, and to you, and to the business—getting over it, I mean. I think I’ll be a different kind of fellow from the periodically gloomy Ben Atherton you’ve dealt with up till now—So what do you think of that, old pal, my best friend ever?—What does my closest friend ever think of that?”
“Me? I’m happy as hell to hear it.”
“OK, then—just one thing more to say.”
“Which is?” Eddie perked up, wide-eyed and all ears.
“Which is, make real damn sure those crazy FaceMate partners of ours don’t put my Lizzie in their matching hopper—You got that loud and clear?”
“OK, sure. Loud and clear. I’ll do my level best.”
“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page on this item in the agenda—Now let me see the picture of that kid who’s supposed to look like me when I was back in school. I’ll admit, you’ve got my curiosity sensors up.
26
“Hello.” A woman’s voice, young, and a little hesitant, pretty much as Eddie had expected when he punched the number in his phone.
“Yeah, hi,” he mumbled lamely. “Uh, this must be Sandra, right?”
“Yeah, Sandra, right—Why? Who’s this? Who’s calling?”
“My name is Eddie Parker, and I need to talk to a Mr. Thomas, umm … Thomas Mulroy, I guess it is. Is there some way you could get him on the line?”
“Tommie? He’s here, yeah, sure; he’s in the shop, but—Is it about a car he’s working on? Or a vehicle you want to bring in? And I’m not sure how you got this number to reach him, sir. This is my private cell.”
“I don’t know, sweetie, it’s the only contact number I’ve got. It’s printed right here on the information sheet you sent in—Aren’t you the one who sent it? Aren’t you Sandra, um—what does it say here? Aren’t you Sandra—let’s see—uh. Sandra Garber?”
“Yeah, I’m Sandra Garber, but….”
“And didn’t you send the pictures of Mr. Thomas Mulroy in to FaceMate?”
“FaceMate! You’re calling from FaceMate?—So then—Is this—are you—the guy from New Jersey? The one they matched up with Tommy? ‘Cause if you are, there’s a nice young girl who’d like to meet you in the flesh. The one you’re talking to, that is. Me, I mean, Sandy.”
“Yeah, well, that’s something we’ll all need to straighten out sometime pretty soon. But to answer your question: No, I’m not the guy in the picture. The guy in the picture—well, he doesn’t really exist anymore the way you probably think he does. He’s not dead, I mean; it’s just that he…. Well, it’s a long story and I’ll have to talk to Thomas Mulroy first, then maybe he can clue you in on what I say. So—can you do me a great big favor, sweetheart, and get him on the line?”
Hold on, she said, pretty abruptly, and Eddie held a couple of minutes or so while she went somewhere. He could hear a variety of noises in the background, mechanical clatter, banging, clanging, the rat-tat-tat of air tools, masculine voices hollering above the din. Then after a minute or so….
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello. Is this Mr. Mulroy? Thomas Mulroy?”
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“Have you got a little while to talk—Look, if it’s a problem for you, I’ll pay you for your time.”
“Pay me! Well, I’m getting paid right now by the people I work for, and the longer I talk to you, the less work I do for them, so I can’t take a lot of time, but…. Excuse me, sir, but if you’re selling something, you’ve definitely got the wrong guy. I’m just a….”
“A mechanic, right?” Eddie interrupted. “Who’s working toward his PhD? Have I got your information down correctly?”
“Yes sir, you have—so…. I’m sorry, but what is this concerning, if I might ask? I’m right in the middle of something, though; so I’d appreciate it if you’d get directly to the point.”
“You know, you kids are driving me nuts here, you and your lady friend who answered the phone. I’m calling about the picture you sent in to FaceMate—or that the lady I talked to sent in—I’m not really sure how this whole thing works. But anyway—Now do you know what I’m talking about, Mr. Mulroy? Are we finally getting to the same page, or at least in the right set of volumes? Are we?”
“Yes, of course, sir. I understand now—I can’t take too much time to talk, but…. I saw the picture you sent back; Sandy showed me just the other day—It’s amazing how much we look alike. It would be interesting to see if there are other things we have in common, but….”
“Yeah, I know, you’re busy; you don’t have time to get into it right now. But listen for a second, will you? I won’t take more than a minute more of your time, I promise, if you’ll only listen up: First of all, it’s not me in the picture, it’s another guy I know. He’s a very important guy, a very influential guy, and he’s older than you; a lot older than you. The picture you saw is a picture of him that was taken thirty years ago. Don’t ask me why it wound up getting matched with you; you’d have to know the crazy bastards who run the site to understand that. But here’s the bottom line, Thomas. Here’s the deal I’m gonna offer you: The older guy they matched you with—you listening to me, son?”
“Yes, sir, I’m listening. Intently.”
“OK, good, great—well, the older guy, the influential guy—He saw the picture and he’d kinda like to meet you. Actually, he wasn’t all that interested until he saw the picture; and now he wants to meet you—So let me ask you something: How much do they pay you at that dealership when you do your work on cars?”
“Fifteen an hour, sir. But it’s mostly by the job—And I’ve got some work I do on the side as well.”
“So what’s the total? Give me a figure, Thomas. Are you making a grand a week?”
“A thousand dollars? Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Yeah, do you make a thousand every week or not?”
“It would be nice if I did, sir, but what I earn is income enough for what I need.”
“But you could use a little more, I’d imagine—Hell, everybody can—So OK then, how ‘bout this: What I’d like to do is fly you up from where you are—it’s someplace in Arizona, right?”
“Yes sir, it’s a suburb of Phoenix.”
“OK, well what I’d like to do is send a plane to pick you up and bring you to where we are in New Jersey. You stay here a day or two, you meet your older double in the picture, you smile a little, you act real nice, we fly you back home—And for your time and trouble, I’ll give you five thousand bucks. Cash, so you don’t need to declare it for the benefit of Uncle Sam. Does that sound like something you might be interested in? Give me a yes or no right now and I’ll let you hang up.”
“I…. I mean, you’re serious? This isn’t a joke or something, is it? This isn’t one of Sandy’s little tricks to try and get me out with her alone?”
“Sandy’s the Sandra I spoke to earlier, right? Sandra Gerber?”
“Yes sir, she is. It’s Garber, though—Sandy Garber.”
“OK, Garber, Gerber, same thing—What the hell’s the dif? But it’s her phone, isn’t it?”
“It is, sir, that’s right.”
“So isn’t she there with you right now? Waiting to get her phone back?”
“She is, sir, that’s right as well.”
“So ask her then. Ask her if it’s a joke or if she’s somehow involved in what I’m offering you.”
“No, I’m looking at her now and—I guess I’m pretty sure she isn’t hiding anything.”
“Hiding what?” said a female voice in the background. “Are you talking about me?”
“No, it’s nothing, Sandy. The man just asked me something. It isn’t that important.”
“OK well, finish up and give me my phone back then, so I can get back to my desk. Mr. Dworkin’s gonna have a cow if I miss any of the calls from his suppliers. And you guys won’t get your parts.”
“Yeah I will in a second—You still there, sir. As you can hear, I’ve definitely got to go.”
“Well is it a yes or a no then? I can have the plane pick you up maybe Friday evening and fly you back sometime Sunday night—That way you won’t lose any time at work, and you’ll be five thousand dollars richer for your trouble—Whaddya say?”
He said nothing, which usually means yes. Eddie got his phone number at home so that Cindy could finalize the pick-up place and time.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: FaceMate match
Dear Liliana,
I hope you will be able to understand this email, but if not, maybe you can call that American friend of yours who helped you write the letter that you sent through FaceMate, and hopefully she can help you translate this.
My name is Edward Parker, and the reason I am writing to you in place of the pretty girl whose picture you received from FaceMate, is that the picture the FaceMate website matched you with is actually a very old photograph that was put in to the matching program without the knowledge of the people involved. Sadly, the girl in the picture is no longer alive, so the contact you were hoping for is, of course, impossible.
I am sorry to be the bearer of this very bad news. I know you were hoping for a better result from the letter you sent in, but things like this are beyond our control, and I thought it would be best to let you know the situation before you got your hopes too high.
I am the representative of a man who was very close to the pretty girl in the picture you received, and I am sure he would want to help you in any way possible to make up for the unfortunate mistake in the matching that occurred. Please feel free to let me know if there is anything we can do to make amends. We have almost infinite resources to accomplish this goal.
I make this offer on behalf of your sincere friends in America—
The Atherton Corporation
Contact Edward Parker at the above email address if you have any questions or requests.
FaceMate Page 21
