We Can Still Be Friends

-So it has come to this, Elaine said. To think we only began dating four months ago.
-All good things have to end, Turner said.
But this stopped being a good thing weeks ago. She was filing her nails and looked up from under hooded eyes.
-Do you want your key back now or can you wait until next week? In any case, you'll have to wait. I left it in my desk drawer at the office.
-Why's that? He looked at her hand. Short choppy nails. He couldn't see the evidence of all her attentions. She smelled nice though. He thought it was lilacs. Real lilacs; not a chemical mix.
-When I was coming over, I would come straight from the gym after work. I just never brought the key home after that last time I went straight to work from your place.
-Why do you think we soured on each other, Turner asked, I mean in that way? Do you think we can still be friends?
-Sure, we can be friends. Hand me that little bottle will you?
How he hated the color she was applying to her nails. It made them look as if she had clawed him with them and the cuticles had filled with blood. He could feel heat and welts along his arms. He rubbed his right arm with his left hand.
A smile played on her lips. -Cold, she asked. -You can turn off the air conditioning. I just turn it on when it feels stuffy in here. Her apartment was crowded with furniture. Much more than a single woman needed. On the radio, Roger Miller sang, -Trailers for sale or rent. Rooms to let, fifty cents. No phone, no food , no pets...
-Do you mind if I smoke, Turner asked.
-I'd rather you didn't, if you're going to turn off the air conditioning, Elaine said.
-I'll leave it on, he said, -I'm not cold anyway. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply then turned his head to one side so as not to exhale the smoke all over her. After that he turned to her to smile and to see if she had appreciated his gesture, but she was preoccupied with painting her pinkie nail.
-So it's come to this, she said, and held out one finished hand.
He thought she was admiring how the light bounced off her red, red nails. They were very shiny.

Puppet

Susana owns a pesto green Volkswagen. I don’t drive. I didn’t when we lived in New York. She always has. Although I take a bus home from work every day, in the evenings, she says she doesn’t want me taking the bus in the morning too because the school is on the other side of town and I would have to leave an hour earlier to get there on time. So I keep the car in gas and she drives me there every day. We argue every morning because I’m responsible for disturbing her sleep. She’s currently between jobs. Twice when I left early and let her sleep in, she was in a grouchy mood all afternoon, so though I suffer guilt and exchange words in the car, I’d rather continue the ritual. The evenings are better that way. This morning after I said I hoped she’d find work soon, she glared at me. When she dropped me off she drove away in silence.

Here in Chiapas the fifteenth and end of the month are quinceanas, paydays. This autumn semester is the toughest of the six I’ve taught at the Tec. I teach four Advanced English classes five times a week. It’s not the hours performing in front of exuberant teenagers that I find so wearing. It’s all the prep work at night and on the weekends, and the bitacoras and other paperwork. Susy and I don’t get much quality time together, but when I get paid we have a nice dinner out, maybe go to a movie, see some friends for drinks and usually have a more intimate night.

Of course I enjoy those nights but I’m not keen on the social evenings beforehand. All of the friends we spend time with speak Spanish and Susy’s so much better at making conversation than I; being half Mexican she would be. She especially likes getting together with Valentina and Raul. Valentina’s a doll, really pleasant, always smiling. Raul’s a snob. He was educated in Texas and can speak English as well as I can, but he never does anymore. He says I need the practice. The three of them talk while I listen, nodding at appropriate moments and occasionally saying, “Gracias,” to waiters.

Today was a quinceana and I was looking forward to a night of heat and passion, such as I can muster these days. Susy’s also better at that. Not working, she would be, but that’s beside the point. I took the bus to Plaza Crystal, figuring I’d pick something up for her at the mall to make things right. At one of the gift shops I found a harlequin puppet in a costume of black and white diamond shapes, with one black tear painted below his left eye. I know she loves that sort of thing.

When I arrived at the house she wasn’t home and the VW wasn’t parked in front. Once inside, I turned on the fan and propped Pierrot against the fruitbowl on the table, made a cup of coffee and smoked a couple of cigarettes. And waited. I reread the next units in my texts and graded thirty-four exams. Three hours later, there was still no word from her. It was unlike her to leave me wondering where she was.

At eight-thirty, Valentina called and asked if we were meeting them at Es-tres. I said I didn’t know yet but didn’t mention that I was alone. “Well, if you decide, give me a ring,” she said, “Raul asked me to call him on his cellphone, if we were going to get together tonight.”

“Oh, he’s not there?” I asked.

“No, he went to San Cristobal today but he’s due back in a while. He said he’d try and get back earlier if something was on.”

After finishing with Val, I noticed I’d smoked my last cigarette, so I headed up to the tienda for another pack. Before I left, I stuffed Peirrot behind some empty luggage in the bedroom closet upstairs. In case, Susy came in while I was out, I didn’t want the puppet to speak for me and say the wrong thing.

I was gone much longer than I’d expected as the store’s security guard, who likes to practice his English on me, caught my ear and then I met a neighbor who tried to convince me that I should contribute more than fifty pesos to the fund she was collecting for her sick tia.

As I entered the house, I saw the harlequin right away. He was back on the table. He was propped against the fruitbowl again, but this time with his head drooping in a sad looking way. Between his legs was a small piece of paper. I read the note.

She’d written, “No llores. It’s been fun. I finally found something. –S”

Wicked

Axel Fenn had positioned his bony posterior on the last stool in the corner of The Queen’s Ear over three hours earlier and only now heard Perfidia emanating from the jukebox. It must be someone’s favorite song, he thought, as he realized it must have played at least six times. The repetitious melody had been the backdrop to Jacqueline’s accusation which looped itself over and over like lyrics to the tune in his mind.

“You wicked toe rag,” she had taunted. “If not for me, you would still be in your shell—living in that dingy little flat. How could you have done this to me?”

She had a right to ask the question. He would still have to see Felicity every day at the office, but he felt neither wicked, nor lately shy, and had forgotten how unforthcoming he used to be. Was it only eighteen months since he and Jackie had met at the Bromptons and shared a taxi, originally headed toward two destinations, but ineluctably winding up at her place? Throughout the ride he had stared at her slender fingers. The one bugaboo he had developed during those months was the proximity of her toothbrush and the occasional sight of a reddened tampon in the waste bin of her loo. He’d never been a swinger. He usually arrived home early though they rarely did anything more than watch the telly in the evenings. Over time she had put on a little weight and he had lost a stone. And though certain situations might have left him mortified in another life, he could now suffer a canard with the best of them. Perhaps it was true that Jacqueline had prompted his flowering. In that way, she was partly responsible for his susceptibility to Felicity’s charm.

He thought he had been discreet, but it was a bitter pill to discover his transparency.

When her nagging started to wear away the veneer of his docility, he prepared to leave. Really he just wanted to get some air, to think things over, accept his guilt, prepare a proper apology, et cetera, et cetera. As he stood looking sheepish at the door, she said, “Your fly is open.”

He wouldn’t deign to look until he was out in the hall. She had been right.

He walked aimlessly for half an hour. Then, feeling dry, he stopped into The Queen’s Ear. Ale after ale convinced him he could not go back to her place. She would never accept whatever apology he could come up with. His seventh would be the last. He would go back to his own flat for the weekend.

Helen Forrest sang once again, “Your eyes are echoing Perfidia. Forgetful of our promise of love…”

Axel, tipsy, quaffed the last ale and left the pub. He was thinking of possible reasons for Felicity’s dismissal as he walked toward Victoria Station. But she was an excellent accountant and more than likely old Brompton wouldn’t hear of it.

He was on Jacqueline’s street before he realized he had headed away from the direction of his flat. He felt so tired now. He recalled the tomblike shelter of it, but it was so far away.

As he lifted the brass knocker, he wondered if she’d still be awake.

Untied

Roy told me on the one day that we were alone and shopping in New Jersey malls for luggage to replace my tattered bag for my return trip and to fit all the books and movies I’m taking back with me, “Artie has no reason to make a move now. He’s got a good deal paying only nine hundred dollars for the use of the whole house.” So back at my apartment when Adrienne is talking loudly on the phone with her sister Felicia, and trying to calm Felicia, who is apparently ranting again about how her ex-husband Charlie is such a shit because he won’t come up with his quarter of the mortgage, I don’t feel her distress.
Roy says to me in a low voice, “Never, ever get involved financially with family.”
Tears are welling in Adrienne’s eyes and I’d like to sympathize, but either my brother or she has already explained to me that Felicia was having her mental problems when the four of them went in together on the house. It was a bad deal from the outset. Charlie soon grew tired of Felicia’s seemingly convenient seizures and walked away from her and the two kids. When she left the house, she rented her half to tenants at a profit which she shared with nobody, but since they have left her extra income has evaporated. Adrienne separated from Artie when she took up again with Roy after twenty-four years apart. She moved in with Roy who has been living in my apartment while I teach in Mexico. Artie is the only person still living in the house in Staten Island.
Now, trying to sell the house is presenting difficulty. And I had to pick this week for a visit home while Adrienne is going through PMS.
They have adopted an affectionate pitbull called Babette, who licks my face every morning at six-thirty. I always had a cat for a pet. I’ve never been a dog person. Babette’s wake-up call doesn’t bother me too much because I don’t enjoy sleeping on my couch. I get up earlier than I have to when I’m going to school, and the arguing begins early each day.
She doesn’t trust him because he has always flirted with other women. She makes innuendos that he has more free time at work than he lets on. She says he is never available when she calls. He says it is a park ranger’s duty to be out in the field a lot.
He doesn’t like her having three hour liquid lunches with her boss and clients. She says it’s one of the things an insurance broker has to do.
Each of them makes twice as much as I have ever earned in a year – teaching or working in an office when I lived in Manhattan. I only maintain the apartment in my name as a storage place for all my stuff. I pay a small portion of the rent to keep all my books and belongings behind all the things they have moved in.
As Roy leaves earlier for work than Adrienne does everyday, I have gotten to spend some time alone with her and she tells me how she can’t take the pressure anymore. She keeps a bag packed so that at any moment she might decide to leave. Roy’s three marriages ended when he left each wife. Adrienne says, “I’m not going to be Number Four. If anyone leaves this time, it will be me, and I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t suck Roy dry for alimony like the last one.”
When I point out that that she is not Number Four but actually Number One, she says, “You know, I never really thought of it that way.”
“Well, you should,” I point out, “Why do you think all those marriages failed? Who do you think he always talked to me about when they started to sour?”
On my next to last day in New York, I have the apartment to myself. They are both at work and Babette is in Doggie Daycare. I watch old videotapes of my vacations with Jason and I’m well aware of the urn containing his ashes on the bookcase filled with the volumes of his stamp collection, but I can’t feel his presence in the place anymore. My new luggage is already packed and ready to go. The old black bag with the broken zipper stands empty in a corner. Lying on top of it is the blouse that Adrienne decided not to wear to work. I think of how many places that black bag has been and how it helped me begin the second half of my life.

Wife and Spouse Read NY Times

"When I ask you why you don't try to be more sociable, you ask me, 'Why bother? Everyone out there is the same. It's like a city of clones. Nobody is more interesting than anyone else.' But then you say you really would like to make new friends and no one ever seems responsive. Well, don't you think if everyone is equal there must be others out there who feel as you do? Someone may be hoping you would respond to an overture, but they also may be reluctant to make it."
"That's the real crux, I guess, fear of rejection, more than anything else. If I could do it over again..."
"For the want of a predetermined answer a friendship may be lost?"
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"How do you go about making friends?"
"I don't know. They seem to come to me."
"Hey, where does this fit in? 'The difference between Van Gogh and you and me is, that while we may look at the sky and think it is beautiful, we don't go so far as to show someone else how it looks. One reason may be that we do not care enough about the sky or for other people. But most often I think it is because we have been discouraged into thinking what we think about the sky is not important.' "
"What was that?"
"It comes a little later in the article."
"I thought he was speaking about how children in the third world haven't enough to eat."
"Shall I tell you about my childhood? Did I ever tell you the story of the broken macaroni for twelve cents a pound?"
"Shall I tell you again about cooking spaghetti in an electric coffeepot when I lived in my little room on the upper-Westside?"
"If I could do it over again..."
"Please, don't start with that old alternative reasoning."
"You wouldn't like to take a second shot? Maybe not have to survive lean days?"
"I would then have even less understanding for those without than I do at this point and believe me when I tell you I am not big-hearted. I laughed as loudly as you did when that comedian shouted, 'Move to where the food is!' "
"It was a stock response. All his other material was funny."
"I think experiences like cooking spaghetti in a an electric coffeepot are bizarre enough to put one metaphorically into another man's moccasins."
"Still, if I could do it over again..."
"You'd just fuck up something else further down the line."
"How can you say that?"
"There's always irony involved in those time travel stories."
"Oh, I was thinking of it more in terms of a done deal."
"What's the point? If you could do it all over, you would have to live through it again wouldn’t you? You can't do it over without doing it."
"Oh, I see what you mean. In that case, I guess I'll just take what fate has dealt me."
"Now about those children in the third world who haven't had the beauty of the sky pointed out to them. You know, if you were to offer your services, you could make a lot of friends."
"But you know what they say about friends in need."
"Right. Let me see that TV guide. Are there any good movies on?"
"There’s a good World War Two flick on at two-thirty. How about some Eggs Benedict for a late breakfast?"
"You prepare the hollandaise? I had in mind a romance or a comedy. Perfect for a Sunday afternoon."

Rome Wasn't Built in a Day

Len says, I don't get it.

I tell him, You don't have to get it. Just enjoy it for what it is. When I first met you there was something about your eyes that drew me in. I couldn't say for sure what it was but the longer I looked, the less I wanted to leave.

As a matter of fact, I think it was specifically because we didn't hit it off that first time that I knew it was a thing. I frequently place myself in situations like that.

You make me question my own esthetics, he says.

That's not a bad thing, I say. He nods but I think he is annoyed.

Do you think you should always trust your first reaction, I ask. Now he appears baffled.

How do you take step two, if the first one isn't on firm ground?

Interesting people continue to reveal themselves over years.

Are you trying to Gaslight me? Don't try it, he says. I'm not stupid.

I don't think you're stupid at all. At all. Charming was my thought. It's in the sincerity of your smile when you are truly amused. I didn't believe you were aware of how appealing your smile is. Of course, now that I've mentioned it...

Oh, yes, he says, I'm very charming.

A child looking at the sculpture in front of us brings his hand to his lips and giggles. He touches the cool marble as I have done many times. Then he looks at Len and me and he stops giggling but continues to smile.

How charming is this little guy, Len asks and reaches to pat his head but the child walks away and stops with his back to us in front of another sculpture, one of a nude woman.

Touch it, I suggest. It feels cold and yet sensual at the same time. He puts his hand on the nodule shape close to the plinth but his eyes are on the nude in front of the child. If he can "get it" he appreciates it. Some things just take a little time. Years ago I was the same way.

Len smiles and I feel an irresistible urge to plant my lips on his.

Let's go look at some paintings, he says.

Independence Day

Yes, we're going up on Marco's roof later to watch the fireworks, she was shouting. We're by the marina now, waiting for the big boats to pass. Yeah, it's packed. I think they opened it to the general public just a little while ago.

When we came down this morning, oh, that's a lie, we actually got up around noon, but when we came down around two, I said to Freddy we were lucky to have these tickets. When they let us through, there were only about twenty people on the plaza. We had the place all to ourselves.

Okay, I'll bring the beer and some chips. I gotta stop off and get an anniversary gift for Anna and Bob first then I'm gonna hop on a train and we'll be up.

Wait for us and we'll all go to Marco's together, okay? 'Kay, see ya. By-ee.

She clicked off.

Okay, now that was Marco and Anna and Kieron. Who else was there?

Oh, right. My dad. Hold on Freddy, let me call my dad. I'll just be another few minutes.

I made a low vertical gesture as if to say, yeah, it's all right take your time, but also hoping she might take it as a subtle hint to lower her voice.

She dialed and started hollering to her dad.

I wanted to smack her off side the head and say to her, Why are you speaking so loudly? There aren't that many people right here near us. You've been on the phone for the last half hour. I thought we came here first because we wanted some time alone together before joining the others. I thought you agreed watching tall ships would be a romantic thing to do. I thought you would be quiet for a little while, or at least speak to me if your lips must be flapping.

I waved and indicated I was going to get a drink. I motioned Do you want something to drink? She waved as if to dismiss me. Words were directed electronically toward others. And they were all hers. We were reduced to communicating in a sort of pidgin signing.

I left her on the plaza, talking to her dad. I walked towards the restaurant with the outdoor tables, went into the restaurant, used the men's room then left through a different door. I walked about four blocks up along the river and found a place by the railing where I could stand and quietly watch the ships as they passed. I thought, let her find her own way to Marco's. Maybe I would see her there later. Or maybe I wouldn't. I hadn't made up my mind.

She was speaking so loudly on that new cell phone.

Fourth of July. I was feeling very independent. I thought now I'll do what I feel like doing, but I couldn't really make a firm decision. It was very quiet. I stood and waited for the tall ships for what seemed like hours.

The Din

The television volume was on high, at least 25.
“But, Evelyn, you sleep all the time!”
“Only to avoid the draft from the swinging door.”
“Sweetie,…”
“Don’t touch me. There’s no quickie sex here. No on-again-off-again, got-fifteen-minutes-between-meetings, try-to-keep-her-quiet sex here. Get it from someone else, but, you get it—I go, and the gravy train ends.”
The gigolo undone.
Almost the story of my life, Theresa thought.
“Bull shit. Bull shit,” kept ringing in her ears. Her own words from two hours earlier.

From across the courtyard, the discordant sound of one of the Mexican pop songs being rehearsed by the as yet unprofessional neighbor’s band came to layer itself over Evelyn’s retribution on the television.
Theresa sat watching a tiny bodied, long-legged spider weaving its web in the corner where the windowed wall met the bare one. What a waste of time, she thought, as she could also see the little gecko who would soon make dinner of the spider, only a short distance away. “Bull shit. Bull shit,” still reverberating.

Through the window, with its makeshift curtain tied back, which was on an angle to the living room, she could see Armando’s leg dangling from the couch. He was oblivious to Evelyn’s melodrama. She didn’t know it then, but he had stopped breathing fifteen minutes earlier. She would be told that he had died of alcoholic poisoning by a relative a week later over the telephone.
She thought for tonight she would rather not sleep here and went upstairs to pack a little bag. She would check into the Sheraton near the plaza. In the morning, she would purchase a one-way ticket back to New York on the last of her Mexican pesos.
With her overnighter in hand, she clicked off the television.

On her way out, she noticed Armando was not snoring, but her thoughts turned in another direction as the raucous neighbors finished rehearsing and the sound of crickets filled the courtyard.

Alice

“What did you want from me then? What do you want from me now?” She spoke in an even tone. She was not being sarcastic, nor cynical. If anything, she was apologizing.
“It’s always been the same thing,” he said, “I’ve only ever wanted your trust.”
“I gave that readily the first time I saw you. You have it still. It’s just that…”
“I know,” he said, “It’s not about me anymore and what I want.”
“I’m sorry, Tom, I really am. I’m sprouting wings. I thank you for that gift, but now I feel the need to flex. I, I…”
“And so you shall, love. It’s time for you to fly.”
When Tom left, Alice smoked a cigarette and watched motes suspended in the still air of her apartment, wingless motes which tumbled in the smoke she exhaled, tumbled then fell still once again, suspended in place as surely as if they were anchored by tiny invisible threads.
She looked at the bracelet on her wrist, tried to twist it round, but it was too snug. The amber stones no longer shone. She unclasped it and placed it on the newspaper folded on the coffeetable.
Later, when she herself was going, it was one of the things she left behind.

Alice was sitting in a corner of the room. She was watching people enjoy themselves. The only people she knew there were Norma and her husband. She worked with Norma in a bank. Norma was an older woman who took a motherly interest in Alice and had invited her to the party.
The house was full and everyone was talking and laughing. Everyone, that is, except Alice. There was a young man standing near her. He looked over at her several times and smiled. Alice pretended not to notice him. When he wasn’t looking, she glanced at him shyly. But when he looked at her again, she acted as if she were interested in the pattern of the carpet.
Just then, Norma came into the room and walked over to her. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. It’s a great party.”
“Really? You don’t seem to be talking to anyone.”
“Oh, that’s because I…I prefer to sit and listen for a while,” Alice answered.
“But you can’t do that all evening, honey. Come on! Let me introduce you to a few friends.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Norma. I’ll be all right. I will, really!”
Norma looked at her doubtfully. Then her husband shouted something to her from the kitchen, and she hurried back to help him bring more food into the room.
An hour later, Alice was still sitting in the corner of the room. The young man was now talking to another person. Alice kept looking at the door, hoping that someone else she knew would come in. After a while, she got up and went into the kitchen, where Norma was joking and laughing in the middle of a crowd of people.
“Well?” she asked. “Met any interesting people?”
“Oh, yes. It’s really been a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me,” Alice said, looking at her watch.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Norma asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid I have to. I’m expecting a phone call from a friend. I told him I’d be home by ten.”
“Well, all right, then. You take care, dear,” Norma said and kissed her on the cheek.

Alice got off the number seven bus and began walking towards her apartment building. On the way, she stopped to buy some food at one of the stores on her street. It was run by a Korean family, and although the prices were a little higher than in the supermarket further down the street, she did a lot of her shopping there. The vegetables were fresher and they had a number of things she couldn’t get anywhere else. Mr. Kim, the owner of the store, was checking through a list, but smiled, as he always did, when he saw her come in.
“How’s Mrs. Kim today?” she asked.
“Oh, much better. The doctor says she’ll be out of the hospital soon,” Mr. Kim said.
“Oh, I’m so glad!”
She picked up a basket and walked toward the back of the store, where the rice and grains were kept. The store was divided by three long aisles, with rows of shelves crammed with all sorts of things. Except for her and Mr. Kim, there were only two other people there, two young men with boyish faces. They were standing at the end of one of the aisles. She glanced at them as she passed. They were both wearing long, old-fashioned raincoats and she thought they looked a little ridiculous because the coats were too big and it wasn’t raining outside. But big coats were popular with some of the teenagers that season.
“Watch out, stupid,” she heard one of them whisper to the other.
She walked on to the next aisle and found the rice she was looking for. Then she heard something else. It sounded like a can falling on the floor. She peered through a gap in the shelf and caught a glimpse of one of the boys bending over. She saw him pick up a can of food, but instead of putting it in his shopping basket or back on the shelf, he dropped it into the inside pocket of his long raincoat. Alice glanced back down the aisle. She could see Mr. Kim at the cash register, still checking through his list. Then she looked through the gap in the shelf again, but the boys had their backs to her.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she heard one of them say and they moved. At the same time, she saw one of them put another can in his raincoat pocket. They moved further away from her. She could no longer see what they were doing or hear what they were saying.
When she got to the cash register, the two boys were in front of her. She watched them pay for the few things they had in the basket. They had both buttoned their coats and fastened them with their belts. Mr. Kim did not seem suspicious at all. He even smiled at them as they were about to leave. Alice opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was the sound of hesitation, which Mr. Kim mistook for a sigh or a yawn.
“You need to get some rest,” he said.
“That’s all I do,” she thought, and paid for her rice with a twenty-dollar bill. Mr. Kim, preoccupied with his list, gave her change for a ten. She did not bring the error to his attention. “Thank you,” she said, “Have a good night. I hope to see Mrs. Kim real soon.”

She heard the telephone ringing as she put her key into the lock on the door. On entering, she placed her purchase on the little table under her father’s photograph and walked over to answer the phone.
“Alice, it’s Norma. Listen, dear, you left something here. We found your bracelet between the cushions on the sofa.”
Alice looked down at her empty right wrist.
“I, er, how…” she began.
“Don’t worry, dear. It turns out one of the guests lives very near your place and he’s offered to drop it off on his way home. Will that be all right, or shall I bring it to the office Monday?”
“I didn’t even know I’d lost it. My father gave me that bracelet when I was a teenager. I guess…”
“I know. You’ve always worn it. Listen, dear, Tom is a good soul and trustworthy. I’m going to send it over with him. You take care and I’ll see you Monday. By the way, did you get the call you were expecting?”
“Yes, yes, I did,” Alice said, “Thank you, Norma.”

She changed into more casual clothes and carefully hung her one good dress back on its padded hanger in her bedroom closet. She brushed her hair and sprayed some mouthwash into her dry throat. Then she poured some cherry liqueur into an aperitif glass and downed it quickly. She poured another and put the glass and the decanter on the table while she went to spray her throat again.
She was feeling dizzy with good luck and believed Norma was a true friend, the only kind worth keeping.
As she replaced the mouthwash in the medicine chest, she heard her buzzer ring.
She responded without asking who it was.
Two minutes later she was disappointed on opening her door and discovering that Tom was not the person she had been expecting. An older man, whom she had not noticed at the party, was standing there.
“Alice?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I’m Tom Sellers. Norma asked me to return this to you.” In his extended hand was her bracelet, partially wrapped in a tissue.
“Thank you,” she said, “Thank you so much. Can I offer you a nightcap for your kindness?”
“How sweet of you to offer, but I’m afraid I mustn’t take you up on it. I’m in recovery, you see. Perhaps,…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted another chance to speak to you.”
“How’s that?”
“I saw you sitting on Norma’s sofa and realized you were there alone. I tried to screw up the courage to say something several times, but I just couldn’t get past my shyness. Here now, with an excuse to speak, I’ve gotten past that hurdle. Do you think we might have dinner together some time?”
He really was rather handsome. Alice regretted not having been introduced to him at the party, but then she had been distracted by the younger man to whom she herself had been too shy to speak.

On a Wednesday when it was raining heavily and there was very little traffic at the bank, Norma and Alice had lunch together. Norma, as always, looked regal with her hair swept up. She was was wearing an emerald green business suit. Alice too looked regal and Norma commented on the change.
“You’re looking marvelous these days. Life seems to be treating you right.”
“I want to thank you for all you’ve done,” Alice said.
“What I’ve done? Why, I haven’t done anything. You’ve just awakened to your surroundings, dear.”
“Perhaps, but it wasn’t fate that placed both Tom and myself at your party.”
“How are things going between the two of you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Two salads lay untouched between them.
“He’s a wonderful companion,” Alice said. “We have been all over the city together. We went to the Chagall exhibit last week. I’ve been doing things and going to places I haven’t been since my father passed away. He’s really helped me get out of the rut I was falling into.”
“I can see changes,” Norma said. “Do you think it might be serious between you?”
“Well, he took me to meet his mother over the weekend. She’s a tiny woman, nearly seventy she must be, but very lively.”
“Oh, how did that go?”
“We hit it off, but something, I don’t know, something didn’t feel right. She offered me a glass of wine with dinner. She had Tom pour one for her. He had soda and so I did also. But the decanter was near him and his mother kept glancing at it. I couldn’t tell if she was longing for another but didn’t like to be the only one drinking or if she didn’t trust her son, as if at any moment he might cave and fill his glass. He’s in recovery, you know.”
“Yes,” Norma said, “And I believe he’s very faithful to his principles. I’ve never seen him drinking and we’ve been friends for about nine years.”
“You seem more sure of him than his mother does.”
Norma leaned forward and said in a low voice, “She does drink a bit.” Then, sitting upright again, she added, “But hey, she’s seventy.”
A couple were taking seats at the table next to Norma and Alice. The young woman was fashionably attired and had her blond hair perfectly coiffed. She was wearing a brooch that looked like an eagle in flight pinned to her jacket. Alice felt she recognized her escort as he held out her chair for her. He looked so familiar, but Alice couldn’t place where she’d seen him before. Then he sat parallel to her and she couldn’t see his face without turning around in an obvious manner to look at him.
“So,” she said to Norma, “You don’t think it was a matter of trust?”
“No. A little wine with dinner never hurt anyone. Anyone who doesn’t have a problem with alcohol, that is. Tom never did succumb, right.?”
The blond at the next table looked over at them and Alice began to feel uncomfortable. “Umh, no,” she said, “No, he didn’t.” Perhaps Norma had responded in a tone that had evoked the young woman’s interest.
Shortly afterward, the waiter took away their uneaten salads and brought their check. When they rose to leave, Alice had another chance to see the young man’s face. She was astounded when she realized where she knew him from. This young man, dressed in a business suit, hair neatly combed, with a flawless complexion, looking for all the world like some successful young executive taking his fiance to a nice restaurant for lunch was one of the kids in oversized raincoats she had seen robbing canned goods from Mr. Kim! They caught each other’s eyes but there was no sign of recognition in his. He merely smiled. She couldn’t bring herself to return the smile but said, “Provecho,” in a low voice.
Norma looked sideways when she heard that. “You are full of surprises these days,” she said.

That evening she told Tom that she had decided to go to Mexico for her month’s vacation. He asked her if this was a sudden decision because she had never mentioned it earlier.
“Sort of,” she said. “I haven’t traveled anywhere in years. My parents used to take me on cruises when I was a child. I always thought I’d like to continue traveling when I grew up, but then my mother died and my father was sick for a long time. After he died, I guess I lost interest. Lately, I’ve been reading about South America and Mexico and thought I’d like to explore a bit – try something new.”
She was getting ready to go to the theater with him when he arrived and now she was just putting on the finishing touches. She picked up her bracelet with the little onyx stones on it and started to put it on her wrist, when he said, “Wait a minute.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. “I brought this for you. I guess now we can consider it a bon voyage present.”
She opened the box. Inside was a bracelet of shiny amber. He took it out and put it round her wrist and clasped it with a bit of difficulty as the length was not so great as her one made of onyx. “Oh, Tom,” she said, “You shouldn’t have.”
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s beautiful, but…” She placed the onyx bracelet in the box and put it on the table.
“I know the other one is important to you,” he said. “I know you wear it all the time. I just thought you might like to change off now and then.”
“My father gave me that one on the last trip we took as a family. It was for my sixteenth birthday. I guess I have been wearing it all this time for sentimental reasons. But this one is beautiful. Thank you so much.” She kissed him in sincere gratitude but was inwardly disappointed that she felt nothing more than that.

She put the box with her father’s bracelet in it away in a drawer and wore only Tom’s gift for the next two weeks whenever they went out somewhere together. She was wearing it on the Friday evening, her last day of work before she was set to travel.
She had made up her mind that she wanted to tell Tom not to wait for her to come back from Mexico. She wanted her future to be open.
When she broached the subject, he was a little upset but not angry. He told her he knew how she had been feeling prior to her voicing it. He said he felt their separation was predestined. He’d known it the first night he’d come to her apartment. He had felt her love was out of his reach when he spotted her at Norma’s party, her love, but not affection. That he knew was attainable. He had made his belated moves with only the simplest goal in mind.