Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(55)

“Take care of yourself, Nick.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

The gym is right, so I turn left and I’m away. I have no destination but keep a course going north and pull out my phone.

“Matt, it’s Nick. You have time to get together?”

“Sure, for a couple hours. I need to be at the theater by five thirty to get ready for the show.”

“That won’t work. I need someone who can get drunk.”

“Everything okay?”

“No. Nothing is.” It’s taking too much energy to collect my thoughts and talk on the phone. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I realize I’m walking fast and moving between people on the sidewalk.

I’m about to lose this woman. She’s on her way out of my life. We’re no longer two people in love but two people held together by a contract without the magic that makes you see the other person in a generous light. That spell is broken.

I love Julia and I want to save my marriage. I hear Sue’s words again and I know the common thread of the problems isn’t with my job and it isn’t with Julia. It’s me. I need to make a change. I ask myself what I’m prepared to do, and this time I demand an answer.

I suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk like Forrest Gump stopping his cross-country run. People behind me have to alter course to the side or they’d run up my back. My swirl of emotions is coming to rest at pissed off. I’m wired and I need a release. My anger is directed mainly at Oliver and I want to see him. He’s not the heart of the problem but he’s the heart of the symptom and that seems like a great start. I don’t know if it’s sadistic or masochistic, but I want to be in the same room with him, come what may.

It’s still office hours, so I take out my cell phone to call him at Bear. If he answers, I’m going to tell him I’m on my way to see him, then hang up before he can say anything. I want to get to him face-to-face and tell him to stay away from us. I won’t reveal anything about what I know and don’t know, I’ll just scare him. If I scare him enough, I might learn something.

The main reception puts me through. “Mr. Bennett’s office.”

“Hi, it’s Nick Farmer from fixed income. I need to speak with Oliver.”

“He’s not in the office at the moment, Mr. Farmer.”

“Back later or is he traveling?”

“I don’t know, sir. He won’t be in today.”

“Vacation.”

“Yes, sir. Yesterday he mentioned that he won’t be available today, but I don’t think he’s traveling. May I try to get a message to him?”

“No, thanks.” I hang up. What the hell is he doing?

I dial 411 for Oliver’s home number. And address. Even better if I just drop in.

I’m already about ten blocks north of my place and near Bar Six, so I stop in for a few drinks to get myself ready and to pass an hour. I want to get closer to early evening so there’s a better chance he’s home. Bar Six is narrow and deep and looks like an old-world Italian trattoria only a little fancier. On the left by the entrance is a small bar with a copper top and it’s wide open. I order a shot of tequila and a Stella. The bartender seems to recognize that I’m on serious business and am taking my drinking seriously.

I want to get my plan together but I realize I don’t have a plan, I have only a motivation. I don’t have enough information for a plan. I don’t know if anything has happened, but I know he wants something to happen and I want to get rid of him.

I have two more beers and get ready to leave. Oliver lives all the way on the Upper East Side, so for good measure I have one more tequila shot while I put on my coat and leave. My stomach feels full of tequila and nervous acid. As I’m waving for a taxi on Sixth Avenue, I think about what I’m about to do and that I hardly know myself right now. This is the lowest and sickest place I’ve ever been. Surely this must be rock bottom, and I tell myself that it is.

Oliver lives across from the park on Fifth Avenue in a nice building, where the taxi drops me off. I hadn’t contemplated getting past the doorman, and I decide quick and obnoxious is the best way.

I walk in fast and right by him like a resident. He was expecting me to stop and inquire after someone, so I’m a few steps past him before I hear, “Sir?”

I don’t say anything because I’m searching around for the stairs as I get deeper in the lobby. It would be too awkward to wait for an elevator.

“Sir, who are you here to see? I’ll need to call ahead.”

“Oliver Bennett.” I offer this over my shoulder and I see the stairs.

“Sir, if you’ll wait here, I need to call ahead.”

I’m at the base of the stairs. I turn around and point right at the doorman. I’m not angry with him at all, but I’m angry as hell. “Five A. You call him!” This has the effect of completely stunning him, and I’m up the first flight of stairs and maybe more before he recovers.

I take the stairs two at a time and it feels good to release some energy and recalibrate myself. By the fourth floor I’m getting spent, so I slow down to catch my breath and get ready for Oliver.

I’m standing in front of 5A and about to ring the doorbell but stop myself. I think better to knock and knock loudly than to ring the doorbell. It’s a small detail but will make a nice difference. I want to do this just right.