“Uh … yeah. That’s good.”

“It’s better than good.” She paused. Jake heard her break away to say something to her assistant. Then she was back. “Okay, hon. I have to take this. Not everyone’s as happy with their publisher as you are.”

He thanked her and they hung up. And then, for another twenty minutes, he remained where he was on the old couch: eyes shut, dread coursing through him like a reverse meditation designed to eradicate serenity. Then he got up and went into the kitchen.

The former owner of his new apartment had done a sterile upgrade, with gray granite countertops and a gleaming steel stove suitable for someone about five levels above Jake’s own cooking abilities. So far, in fact, he hadn’t cooked a thing (unless you counted reheating as cooking) and his fridge contained only an assortment of takeout clamshell containers, some of them empty. His efforts to furnish the apartment had withered soon after bringing in what he already owned, and whatever intentions he’d had to address a few of the more obvious needs—a headboard for the bed, a new couch, a set of curtains for the bedroom window—had further departed in the wake of TalentedTom’s arrival in his life.

Unable to remember what had brought him into his own kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and went back to his couch. In the brief time he’d been away, Anna had texted twice.

Hi you.

Then, a few minutes later:

Are you there?

Hi! he typed back. Sorry. Was on the phone. What are you up to?

Looking at Expedia, she wrote. Flights to NYC surprisingly cheap.

Good to know. I’ve been thinking of going there. They say the neon lights are bright.

For a moment nothing. Then: I would love to see a Broadway show.

Jake smiled. They actually don’t let you leave the city without seeing one. I’m afraid you’ll have no choice.

She had some vacation days, apparently. She could take them any time.

But really, Anna wrote, how do you feel about my visiting? I want to be sure this isn’t just me, hurling myself at you from the other side of the country.

Jake took a gulp of his water. How I feel is: hurl away. Please. I would love to have you here, even for a couple of days.

And you can take the time from work?

Actually, he couldn’t.

Yes of course.

They arranged for her to arrive at the end of the month, and stay for a week, and after they stopped texting Jake went online and ordered a headboard and a pair of bedroom curtains. It actually wasn’t difficult at all.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Something Out of a Novel

Anna arrived on a Friday in late November, and Jake went down to meet her cab. There were still police barriers in front of his West Village apartment building, and as she got out of the car he saw her look at them rather nervously.

“Filming,” he said. “Law and Order. Last night.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was thinking, I just got to New York and I’m already at a crime scene?” After a moment they hugged awkwardly. Then they hugged again, less awkwardly.

She had cut her hair a couple of inches, and just that small change carried with it a hint of transformation: Seattle grunge to some version of Gotham chic. She wore a trench coat over black jeans, and a gray sweater a couple of shades lighter than that silver hair, and a single misshapen pearl on a chain around her neck. After weeks of wondering how he’d feel when he saw her again, he was powerfully reassured. Anna was beautiful. And she was here.

He took her out to a Brazilian restaurant he liked, and afterward she wanted to walk: down to where the World Trade Center had been, east to South Street Seaport. He led by vague sense of direction only; he didn’t know these neighborhoods, which struck her as hilarious. In Chinatown they stopped at a dessert bar and shared something made of shaved ice with about eight toppings, including actual gold leaf. He offered to get her a hotel.

She laughed at him.

Back at the apartment he made the gesture of depositing a spare blanket and pillow on that pathetic old couch. “For me,” he’d suggested, when Anna came to stand beside him. “I mean, I don’t want to assume.”

“You’re adorable,” she said, before taking him into his own bedroom, where at least there were now curtains on the window. And a good thing, too.

The next day, they didn’t leave the apartment.

The day after that, they managed to get out for lunch at RedFarm, but went home immediately afterward and stayed in for the rest of that day, too.

Once or twice, he apologized for monopolizing her time in the city. Surely she’d wanted more from her visit to New York than even this intimacy and—as far as he could tell—mutual pleasure?

“This is exactly what I wanted from my visit,” said Anna.

But the following morning she left him to work and went to explore, and that became the way the rest of the week took form. He did his best to get a few hours in after she’d gone, and late in the afternoon he went to meet her wherever she’d wound up: the Museum of the City of New York, Lincoln Center, Bloomingdale’s. She couldn’t decide which Broadway show to see, and on her final night in the city they ended up at some strange thing where everyone ran around a huge warehouse in the dark, wearing masks, and it was supposedly based on Macbeth.

“What did you think?” he asked her as they emerged into the Chelsea night. Her flight was early in the morning and he was already dreading the moment of her departure.

“Well, it was a long way from Oklahoma!”

They walked down to the newly fabulous Meatpacking District and looked at the restaurants until they found one that was quiet.

“You like it here,” Jake observed after the waiter had taken their order.

“It looks good.”

“No, no, I mean here. New York.”

“I’m afraid I do. This place, I could fall for a place like this.”

“Well,” said Jake, “I’ll be honest, that does not make me unhappy.”

She said nothing. The waiter brought their wine.

“So, this woman you met once, for an hour, and who lives on the other side of the country, comes to visit you for a couple of days and starts making noises about how much she likes New York, and you’re not even slightly freaked out?”

He shrugged. “A lot of things freak me out. But oddly, not that. I’m just getting used to the idea that you liked me enough to get on a plane.”

“So you’re assuming I got on a plane because I liked you and not, for example, because I got a cheap flight, and I’d always wanted to run around a warehouse in a mask, pretending I’m twenty-two and not my actual age.”

“You could totally pass for twenty-two,” he said after a moment.

“But why would I want to? That whole thing tonight was the emperor’s new clothes.”

Jake threw his head back and laughed. “Okay. You’ve just turned in your cool millennial card. You know that.”

“I couldn’t care less. I don’t think I was young even when I actually was young, and that wasn’t yesterday.”

The waiter arrived. They had each ordered the same thing: roast chicken and vegetables. Looking at the two plates, Jake wondered if they weren’t, in fact, eating both halves of the same bird.

“So why weren’t you young when you actually were young?” Jake said.

“Oh, it’s a long and tortured story. Something out of a novel.”

“I wish you’d tell me.” He looked at her. “Is it hard to talk about this?”

“No, not hard. But it’s still kind of a thing that I’m doing it.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I am appropriately honored.”

She took a moment to begin her meal, and drink from her glass.

“So the long and short of it is, my sister and I ended up in Idaho, in the town where our mother grew up. We were both pretty young, so we didn’t remember a lot about her. She committed suicide, unfortunately. She drove her car into a lake.”

Jake let out a breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

“And after that our mother’s sister came to take care of us. But she was very strange. She never mastered the art of taking care of herself, let alone anyone else, let alone two little kids. I think we both understood that, my sister and I did. But we handled it different ways. After we started high school I could feel the two of them moving farther and farther away from me. My sister and my aunt,” she clarified. “My sister pretty much stopped going to school. I pretty much stopped going home. And my teacher, Miss Royce, when she figured out what was happening in my house, she just asked if I’d like to live with her, and I said yes.”

“But … wasn’t there any kind of intervention? I mean, social services? Police?”

“The sheriff came out a couple of times to talk to my aunt, but it never quite connected with her. I think she really wanted to be capable of parenting us, but it was just beyond her abilities.” Anna paused. “I bear her absolutely no ill will, by the way. Some people can paint or sing, others can’t. This was a person who just could not be in the world the same way most of us can. But I do wish …” She shook her head. She reached for her glass.