The Ferryman

by Justin Cronin

saw Warren and Elise waiting by the bar, now closed. “Sorry,” I said, striding up to them. Elise nailed me with a hard glare. “Proctor, where have you been?” “Getting some air, like I said.” I scanned the room. “What happened to your parents?” “They went ahead to the restaurant. Honestly, Proctor. Leaving me stranded like that. It’s embarrassing.” “You had Warren to keep you company.” My friend held up his hands in comic surrender. “Don’t look at me, buddy. This is your fight, not mine.” “It’s not a fight.” I looked at Elise again. “Do we really have to go to dinner? I’m exhausted.” “What am I supposed to say to that?” “ ‘No, we don’t have to go’?” “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re waiting.” What could I do? The evening had to proceed as planned. The three of us walked to the parking lot, which was nearly empty. At our