Howie tried to pick up the bill when it came and Marv growled, Oh no, you don’t, and snatched it from him, literally, took it from his hands.
Daddy, said Sherry.
What? said Marv. I’ve got it.
It’s been a pleasure, Marv. Thank you, said Howie Plank.
* * *
Outside, the four of them stood facing each other in front of the tall front windows of the Carnegie Deli. It was one in the morning. She realized suddenly that in Utah it was only eleven. Wrapped in a box in her hand was the second piece of cheesecake, which she and Marv had not come close to eating.
Is your place far from here, Sherry? asked Mim. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She was thinking about her camera, how there were no pictures on it yet.
It is, said Sherry, and looked at Howie. He tipped his head.
Where is it? asked Marv, suddenly.
Oh, said Sherry. It’s — on the Lower East Side.
The phrase was meaningless to them. They did not know where they were, geographically; they knew their hotel was near Columbus Circle, and that the show had been in Times Square, but they did not know where Times Square was, nor how far they had strayed from it in coming here to eat. The Lower East Side was a phrase like Aspen or The Poconos. Standing there in front of the Carnegie Deli, Mim felt very lost. She wished for the first time to be home in Provo. She felt the weight of her purse acutely, the weight of the guidebook and lipstick and camera in it.
Well, we’d like to see it, said Marv. His forcefulness was unexpected.
You’ll have to! Sherry said. Next time you visit, for sure.
* * *
They left then, jumping into a cab, Sherry after Howie, waving goodbye. Mim had a sudden devastating vision of Sherry as a newlywed — it was in the lift of her heel as she entered the car, the small hand on the rear window as they pulled away — and she held onto Marv’s arm. The world seemed to open around her like an ocean. She had no pictures on her camera, nothing to bring back to Utah as evidence of her trip. No little token to show the women in her office. Nothing to frame. Sherry had said nothing about tomorrow or the next day. As they said goodbye, Mim had considered asking her, but something had stopped her and now she was plan-less. She didn’t do well without a plan. Sunday night they were to return to Utah. What would they do until then? It was impossible to say. The world was so open and new — the world was larger than it should have been. It was too warm, too windy, too loud on the street. What were they going to do? Right now they would walk to the hotel — they would walk three blocks north, and three avenues west, as Sherry had instructed them. They would avoid the subject of dinner. They would do what was right and proper. If Sherry called them tomorrow — the thought of it lifted her momentarily and then dropped her again, as it always did.
Marv. Beside her was Marv.
It’s so warm still, said Mim. All she wanted was to make a noise.
But it was. The sky was green and glowing. The buildings that were lit up before had darkened. It was impossible, she realized, impossible — that people lived in those buildings. Nobody could live in buildings like those, towering impersonal buildings like those. The lone low hum of the subway sounded beneath them, and she thought suddenly of Bailey and how he had been as a small boy, the soft blonde down on his cheeks and legs, the perfect half-moons of dirt beneath his babyish fingernails. It had all changed — when he was twelve, it had all changed.
Are you limping, Marv? she said.
He didn’t respond; perhaps he hadn’t heard. The street around them was so crowded, still, at one in the morning. It was unnatural.
Are you limping? she asked again. Marv shook his head no, but it was distinct: he was hitching to the right with every step, grimacing as if in pain.
I don’t believe you, she said quietly. She felt tender toward him, and squeezed his arm to tell him so. She felt he was her only ally.
The world was open. Ahead of them, she thought she saw Central Park — there were horses and carriages lined up one after another in front of a high stone wall — but she wasn’t certain what it was. It could be anything. New York stretched endlessly around them in all directions, and she couldn’t see the edge of it. There was no knowing where they were.
