Inside there was a message on the machine: Honeymoon was originally used to describe the period of time that passed from when a man kidnapped a woman and when her parents stopped looking for her. I told her many years ago My shotgun and I will be in your neighborhood sometime today, be prepared to come along quietly. Good lord but how she could stand on a Tennessee porch. Barefoot, thin wristed hand shading her eye, lips still damp from minted tea. A catlike tension binding up her sexual history with the inevitability of my death. The very act of being in her attention, within the scope of those tremendous eyes. [a pause] But now I can’t help but think how much of a relief it would be to use the phrase My wife is dead to help explain my character. This occurred to me this morning on my agent’s boat. What has happened? My ice was melted and I was out of smokes. And the sun was rising over the mountains and an absolute redhead called June Ruin and there’s no way I can translate this for an answering machine.
Let me just say this: We cannot be too devastated.