TOMORROW

"Honey, Brett's on the line." "Thanks. What's up, big guy?" "We're going with the Mexican officials discussing the murder with the body in the background and another of her with children seated at her feet. There are three men in the first photo. Do you know their names?" "One is the chief of police. His name is in the article. I have no idea about the other two. Use the cutline: 'Mexican authorities collect evidence from macabre scene.'" "Macabre?" "Macabre. What's wrong with macabre? I use the word in the story. We're educating the public." "I don't think I can spell it." "M-A-C-A-B-R-E. Macabre. If you don't like macabre, put gruesome." "What are you doing?" "I'm sitting in the backyard, drinking wine, watching the kids play and debating on whether to smoke a joint." "It's been my experience in the many years that I have known you that there is seldom much of a debate. You get stoned." "Since I have the joint rolled, you're probably right. Coincidentally, I was thinking about you five minutes ago. I ran into Clara a few nights ago." "Where?" "At the Little Austin." "How did she look?" "She's packing too much weight these days, but I was literally so drunk I could hardly keep my feet. I was ready to fuck her although I would have had a difficult time getting it up." "Did you tell her you wanted to fuck her?" "What do you think?" "What did she say?" "No way. She said that she had renounced sex since she dumped you. She lamented that she could never hope to find anyone as good as you." "I doubt that. If my recollection serves me right, she had a good appetite herself. Nasty shit in Matamoros." "I didn't go. The boys at El Bravo took care of the details. I lost my interest in dead bodies many moons ago. Why don't we get together tomorrow? I'll come by the paper at nine and we'll go across. We'll visit the family. Photos of the grieving family should suffice. Afterwards, we'll eat lunch. It's been a while. We won't be able to drink because I'll have to go back to El Bravo and write a story, but it'll be fun. What do you say?" "Why not? You'll meet me at the paper?" "Around nine." "Perfect. I'll see you then." "Great. I'm looking forward to it." Tomorrow is taking shape. A joint to start the day and then Brett and I will cross to the other side. After the photos, lunch and writing a story, it will be four or five in the afternoon and I'll be right back here playing with the kids, staring at the sky and wondering if I'm going to be doing this--if I'm lucky to be alive--for the next 20 years.