The Address(59)

“Hey.”

She turned to see Renzo right behind her.

“Oh, hi.”

When she’d first arrived, she’d glanced around the room to see if he’d come, and been relieved that he hadn’t. She knew she wanted to share but didn’t think she could do it with him in the room. Hopefully, he’d arrived late and missed her pathetic whining.

“I appreciated your share.”

No such luck.

“I guess I have a lot to learn.”

“Don’t we all.”

Great. Now the guy knew what a fuck-up she was. He was probably one of those book thumpers, sponsoring people right and left, an all-knowing guru of all things sober.

“When did you go to rehab?”

She laughed. “Got out a week ago. Nice, right?” The words came out harsher than she meant them to, and she could have sworn he flinched. She sounded coarse, like a New Orleans tramp in some Tennessee Williams play.

“Took me about a day to start back up again, so don’t beat yourself up.”

She looked up at him. His expression was soft but guarded, and his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. He didn’t seem like a self-righteous counselor type. He was as nervous as she was.

“You were in rehab?”

“Not exactly. I went to Alaska. I figured, out in the wilderness I’d get dry.”

“What happened?”

“Turns out Alaska is full of bars and lushes. Not much else to do there.”

“You lasted a day? I’m impressed.”

She’d forgotten what a relief it was in rehab to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Renzo shrugged and hooked a thumb toward the door. “Wanna grab a hot dog on the way back?”

“Okay.”

This time, as they strolled by the bodega, the guys outside yelled out to Renzo by name.

“Yo, Renzo, you got a girl now? Nice goin’.”

“Mind your own business, Mortimer, and go home and take care of your own woman.”

The man cracked up, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Mr. Renzo, she’s a fine one.”

“‘Mortimer’?” Bailey waited until they were out of earshot. “Is that really his name?”

“We used to play together in Central Park. As we got older, we’d steal beers from that bodega and go drink there instead of play.”

Outside Gray’s Papaya, a sign read: RECESSION SPECIAL, $1.95 FOR TWO FRANKS AND A MEDIUM DRINK.

Bailey pointed to it. “Aren’t we out of the recession?”

“I think they just can’t be bothered to change the sign.”

“I like that. Everything else changes so fast. Especially in New York.”

“Not Gray’s Papaya.” He ordered the hot dogs and handed one to Bailey. While he paid, she pumped mustard in a long, thin line out of an enormous plastic tub.

Delicious. The hot dog snapped when she bit into it, and the piquancy of the mustard made her smile.

“You look happy.”

“This is amazing. I guess I’m a cheap date.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them. This wasn’t a date. “You live in the Dakota?”

“I do. My family’s been there for years. My grandfather was a porter, my dad became super, then me.”

“Where’s your apartment?”

“I’m on the first floor, west side. Facing the courtyard.”

“So you can keep an eye on the neighbors.”

“That’s a good way of looking at it. Some sunlight would be nice, but it’s not a bad address to have.”

“Was it fun, growing up in the Dakota?”

“Sure. Even though it’s a lot of wealthy folks, it’s different from what you find on Park Avenue. Lots of singers, actors, producers. People who are loaded, sure, but also have an artistic bent. I don’t know how long that’ll last, though. The city’s changing fast. And there are tenants, like Melinda, who just don’t care.”

She really should stick up for her cousin, but she couldn’t help herself. “Now she wants a koi pond in her living room.”

“I can see why you needed a meeting tonight.”

A lump built up in her throat again. Did she have the courage to tell him what was really bothering her? The quiet hum of the street noise and the darkness enveloped her, made her feel safe. As did walking beside Renzo. “And yesterday was the anniversary of my mother’s death.”

Renzo stopped. He didn’t attempt to make any comforting movements or noises, just stood still. “What happened?”

She took a deep breath, close to bursting into tears. “Twelve years ago. I was eighteen. She was on her way home to celebrate my dad’s birthday. Car crash.” Talking about the subject, which was taboo at home, was difficult. Saying the words out loud made it real. She didn’t want it to be real.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I guess it’s better I’m eating hot dogs instead of hitting a bar for a drink, which was my first impulse this afternoon.”

“My mom died, too, but when I was little. I didn’t really ever know her.”

For a few seconds Bailey stared, unabashed, into Renzo’s face. Words were inadequate, and unnecessary.

Renzo broke the silence. “How did you manage, after she passed away?”