Pool_2

>> Double Take <<

Conversation ran the table like waves along a stretched coil. Light hearted offerings bounced in succession. Yet, still detached by the implications of last night's discussions, at Teson, Macaluso's thoughts were muted. And yes, he had forgotten the milk, butter and walnuts, not that it mattered. Mina knew he would. At the heart of his preoccupation was that he didn't want to be part of failure. He could smell it but couldn't wiggle away from it. There were no really good sports distractions being discussed. Did every single team in every single sport do exactly as expected? No upsets? He was quiet as topics reverberated. This was not day dreaming, but turning the volume down on reality. Some disconnected part of his psyche, a part he really did not communicate with, did it's own thing that he was unaware of. After that last wrenching Rocky soliloquy, nobody seemed willing to prod him, not so soon, not even Osten. Who could take that again? Anyway, he made a good bookend match for Frank Sumner who seemed to be his old blank self again. Or was it Sumner now starring at a detached Macaluso? What a pair. Belachnik called Mac the mummy when he went off staring into space in this manner. But this is when he was at his best. This is when great ideas thrust themselves into his mind. Something, in these trances, solved problems. Only an unease or edginess anticipated a solution to some vexing circumstance, surprising him as much as others as it verbalized. A magnificent and utterly intricate solution to a prosthetics knee design exploded into his consciousness as he was stuck staring at his pancakes one morning. "What's wrong?" Mina asked, "What's wrong? You OK?" He bolted to the