HENRY: A long time has passed, maybe an hour or so. I eat half the potato chips 

 

and drink the warm Coke Clare has brought along. I nap a bit. She’s gone for so long that I’m starting to consider going for a walk. Also I need to take a leak.

　I hear heels tapping toward me. I look out the window, but it’s not Clare, it’s this bombshell blond girl in a tight red dress. I blink, and realize that this is Clare’s friend Helen Powell. Uh oh.

　She clicks over to my side of the car, leans over and peers at me. I can see right down her dress to Tokyo. I feel slightly woozy,

　“Hi, Clare’s boyfriend. I’m Helen.”

　“Wrong number, Helen. But pleased to meet you.” Her breath is highly alcoholic.

　“Aren’t you going to get out of the car and be properly introduced?”

　“Oh, I’m pretty comfortable where I am, thanks.”

　“Well, I’ll just join you in there, then.” She moves uncertainly around the front of the car, opens the door, and plops herself into the driver’s seat.

　“I’ve been wanting to meet you for the longest time,” Helen confides.

　“You have? Why?” I desperately wish Clare would come and rescue me, but then that would give the game away, wouldn’t it?

　Helen leans toward me and says, sotto voce, “I deduced your existence. My vast powers of observation have led me to the conclusion that whatever remains when you have eliminated the impossible, is the truth, no matter how impossible. Hence,” Helen pauses to burp. “How unladylike. Excuse me. Hence, I have concluded that Clare must have a boyfriend, because otherwise, she would not be refusing to fuck all these very nice boys who are very much distressed about it. And here you are. Ta da!”

　I’ve always liked Helen, and I am sad to have to mislead her. This does explain something she said to me at our wedding, though. I love it when little puzzle pieces drop into place like this.

　“That’s very compelling reasoning, Helen, but I’m not Clare’s boyfriend.”

　“Then why are you sitting in her car?”

　I have a brainstorm.