Jeremy Thrane (45 page)

“In all the brouhaha and hullabaloo I—”

“That’s right!” said Lola. “What was that all about?”

I explained about the deal with Bill Dexter, and they were gratifyingly
excited for me, so excited I might have suspected them of humoring me if they’d been anyone else, but because they were my sisters, I allowed myself to bask a little.

A little while later I put Juanita back into her cage, and then my sisters and I left the apartment together and clattered down the stairs single file. We burst one by one through the heavy front door out onto the street, where we stood for a moment, collecting ourselves, then made our disorganized way to the nearest subway station.

“When will I see you again, Jeremy?” Lola asked. “We’re here for another two weeks and we’re quite available.”

“Well,” I said, “I have to meet with that editor tomorrow night after work. Maybe I’ll come up to Mom’s for dinner on Wednesday night.”

“Oh, good,” she said, kissing my cheek. Then she flung her arms around Amanda. “Have a relaxing, romantic honeymoon in Europe; you’ll need it when the reality of marriage sets in.”

“Oh, reality set in for Liam and me a long time ago,” said Amanda. “It was good to see you, Lola. It was good to meet Fletcher. I’m so glad you came all this way for my wedding.”

“Glad we did too,” said Lola. “Come to Australia and see our farm.”

She waved at both of us, ran down the subway stairs with her hair and dress fluttering behind her, and disappeared.

Amanda took my arm and we headed downtown into the warm evening.

“How’s married life?” I asked her.

“Whatever,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Same old me, same old Liam. I love him, I can’t stand the sight of him, he’s my soul mate, I want to kick him in the head. But now it’s permanent.” There were tears on her cheeks. “God, I wish Lola lived nearer.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Where are you going now, Jeremy?”

“I have a sort of date, I guess,” I said shyly. “With Henry.”

She looked at me. “Laura’s Henry?”

“He’s hardly Laura’s.”

“Anyway, he’s had a crush on you for ages,” she said. “It’s about time. Where are you going?”

“We’re meeting at the International Bar for a drink, then he’s playing somewhere on Ludlow Street, and then if I like his music I’m going to ask him out for dinner afterward.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said. “But what if you don’t like it?”

“I don’t know,” I said nervously. “If I don’t like it, what am I going to tell him? Have you ever heard it?”

“Yes,” she said. “But why do you have to like his music if you like him?”

“Why do you ask?” I asked hollowly, suddenly terrified. “Is he that bad?”

“He’s amazing,” she said shortly. “But why are you testing him like this? Isn’t it kind of a lot of pressure to put on a first date?”

We stopped walking and faced each other. We were on Sixth Avenue near Fourteenth Street; people hustled past us in both directions, but we took no notice of them. I stared uptown for a moment at the elegant spiky spires of the Chrysler and Empire State buildings; the breeze rounding the corner from off the Hudson cooled the sweat on my forehead.

“I can’t explain it,” I said stubbornly. “But it’s essential.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling, checking her watch. “Oh my God, it’s way past time for me to go. Our plane leaves at eleven, and I still have to finish packing and do a million last-minute things.”

“Wait,” I said, suddenly reluctant to say good-bye to her. “I’m going all the way over to First Avenue. We could walk together.”

She hugged me a little impatiently. “I really have to go now, I’m late.”

“I’ll miss you,” I said mournfully.

“Well, thanks, but I might not miss you,” she said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t it be a bad sign? Missing your brother on your honeymoon?”

“It might be a little strange,” I said.

I stood at the top of the subway station and watched her run down the stairs, her hair and dress fluttering the same way Lola’s had. She blew me a kiss just before she ducked out of sight.

I headed down Broadway toward Astor Place, pulled forward by a node of concentrated warmth in my solar plexus that was the closest thing I’d ever known to absolute certainty that I was going in the right
direction. I looked eagerly and hopefully into all the faces that approached me, an old black woman in a white canvas sunhat, a kid with a Walkman, bearded man in sunglasses, open-faced redheaded girl, but they were all strangers and had nothing to do with me. The people I knew, the ones who mattered to me, who loved me, were all going about their lives, probably not thinking about me at all; meanwhile, I walked quickly and without pausing toward my night with Henry Tolliver, a mystery that would soon open to reveal further mysteries, and beyond those, more unknowns, and so on.