The Motion of Puppets(57)

“Only photography has been able to divide human life into a series of moments, each of them has the value of complete existence,” Muybridge once wrote. Each moment part of a series, yet separate and complete somehow, the motion but an illusion, the way to mark time. He could see his wife twist her neck, the realization of what was to happen clearly marked on her face, the recognition in that split second of all that had passed and all that was to come. That scoundrel’s eyes bore a permanent regret. All in the space between the smile and the squeeze of a trigger.

New York harbor receded on the horizon. Muybridge rubbed his great white beard and spat into the ocean. He had stopped time, yes, but it could not be unwound, reversed, replayed. There was only one direction: forward.

Theo added the final page to the manuscript and put down his pen. Finished, but for the last revisions. When Kay first disappeared, he had blamed that man from the circus, that seedy old ringmaster, and Theo would have shot that roué had he a gun. But now he was not so sure. Now he had convinced himself that she had made it to the Quatre Mains puppet shop that night and had vanished from there.

She had disappeared once before.

They had been dating three or four months and had arranged to meet at the Central Park Zoo on a Sunday afternoon. She had wanted to see the penguins. He had wanted to see her. So much so that he arrived an hour early and settled in on one of the benches facing the circular pool where the sea lions cavorted on the rocks, the feeding routine drawing in the young families and children like magic. Theo watched the people come and go, idly speculating about his future with Kay, the prospect of bringing their own children to the zoo, to the park. And on the bench in that hour, he decided that one day soon he would ask her to marry him.

When she did not show up at the appointed hour, he wandered over to the iron fence that separated the zoo from the street, and there she was. At first, the sight of Kay amid the crowds of tourists was an early and welcome surprise. But there was something wrong. From the distance, he could see only her animated motions. She gestured to a man who leaned in closer, his face red with anger. They were arguing, he could tell, and unsure of himself, he froze on the bench and watched the show play out with dismay. When Kay tried to break away, the man grabbed her by the arm and would not let go. Theo sprang to his feet and raced toward the fence. He recognized the man from the rooftop party near the Flatiron. Her old boyfriend.

“Get your hands off her,” Theo shouted, his face pressed between the bars, and as soon as he spoke, her eyes widened with alarm, and the man reflexively let go of her, and she pivoted on her heels and made her way to Fifth Avenue, running as fast as possible through the clots of people on the sidewalk. By hesitating for one moment, Theo lost the chance to catch her, and by the time he found the exit from the zoo, he could not spot her anywhere. He walked quickly up the avenue, looking for her along the way to see if she had doubled back into the park and was waiting for him, but she would not be found.

She did not answer her cell phone. She did not answer the intercom when he buzzed her apartment building, and he sat on the stoop till nightfall, hoping to intercept her. In those long hours, all he could see was the image of her sprinting crazily through the streets of New York, and his thoughts ran wild with conjecture about the man on the sidewalk and why she had fled rather than simply talk to Theo. Everything that he knew about her seemed to fly away, every dream seemed to curdle. At midnight, he gave up and went home.

Another full day passed before she reappeared on a Tuesday morning in the spy hole in his front door. With a box of rugelach and two coffees, she appeared contrite. The worry that had eaten at him gave way to a gush of relief. He threw his arms around her and led her in.

“What happened to you Sunday? Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

Pulling him close, she kissed him, trembling in his arms till he returned her embrace.

“What is it, Kay? What’s wrong?”

Breaking from the embrace, she positioned herself behind an armchair, holding on to the wings for protection. “I can’t tell you. If I tell you, you will want nothing to do with me.”

Theo remembered that moment as a crossroads, but at the time, his answer was spontaneous and unequivocal. “There’s nothing you could say that would make me want to end this. Is it about that man you were arguing with? Your boyfriend?”

She laughed nervously, apprehending his thoughts for the first time. “Barry? Not in the way you are thinking. There’s nothing between us, honestly. Not anymore. Nothing romantic, if that’s what you are afraid of, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you were yelling at him, and he would not let go.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“Say anything.”

“He’s a mistake, a bad influence,” she said. “That’s not exactly right. He’s a guy who can get his hands on drugs. That’s what we were arguing about. That’s why I ran away from you.”

Her confession stunned him.

“I’d needed some speed. There were back-to-back auditions, and I’ve been feeling run-down and tired. When I saw you there, you were early, you weren’t supposed to be so early. I didn’t want you to know, so I ran away.”

“Are you still using? Are you still seeing him?”

“Lord no,” she said. “A little boost to get me through a rough patch. I hadn’t seen him in ages, but I knew that he could hook me up. But I’ve stopped. I’ll stop.”