Leaving New York

Chapter 20

I dropped the Connally's off with their three hundred pounds of luggage. I kept a stiff upper lip listening to Gar when he said, "Have a good time while we're gone—I mean it." Like I was supposed to consummate something while they were gone. I hugged them both then they disappeared into the terminal. A burly policeman stared at the unattended car at the curb. I trotted over, "Just leaving, officer."

I got back to anxious silence. I didn't have any friends. What was I going to do if Clement didn't want to stay? I did need the company, right? Otherwise, I'd have to hang out at coffee houses alone. The phone rang.

"Jack?"

"Lion?"

"Hey, pardner, did you get the lovebirds off in the aluminum tube?"

"Yes."

"We'll be at the airport in two days flying to exciting Manchester."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, there's nobody around, right?"

"Right."

"Try to have some fun, Jack. Well, I just wanted to make sure the little Bro got away." Click.

I thought about Jimmy and Henry during a thundershower that blew in. How different they were from Clement; why couldn't they come and stay with me for a month? It was pointless to fantasize about Jimmy skateboarding on the Rue de l'Opera while Henry overhauled the Connally's piece of shit Mercedes. When the rain stopped, I did my daily walk at Parc Monceau in back of the house. Three times around the lake was a mile—I usually did three or four miles. The swans kept me company as they glided around the lake in front of the famous arcade. As I finished, I noticed a good-looking fifty-ish guy in sweats tying his shoes on a bench. He saw me looking then said, "How far did you go?"

"Three miles."

"Good man."

"Thanks."

"Ernie."

"Jack. You're American."

"Chicago. You?"

"New York."

"Just visiting?"

"Sorta."

"Staying around here?"

"Yeah."

"Me too," He pointed across the lake to a bland '70's apartment tower. "It's ugly but warm. You must be cold in those shorts."

"A little."

"I got a fireplace—we could build a fire."

"Nah, I need to get going. But thanks."

"You sure? I could use the company--I just moved here."

"Well . . ."

"Hot chocolate? We could watch a little Sud Foot against Agen."

What was I going to do? Go back to the empty house on a Saturday afternoon? I started to shiver.

"Okay."

"Great."

"Can we walk fast?"

"Sure. It's going down to six tonite."

"Man."

We got to his stark building, took the elevator, and I followed him down the hallway, trying not to look at his perfect ass. He opened his door to a large room piled with moving boxes.