Free All the Time in the World by E. L. Doctorow

more until the light went on in her room on the top floor. Then he would continue on to his own room, several blocks away. He thought in the moonlight of the things he knew about her: the jewelled navel, the thin face and high cheekbones, the gray eyes that slanted upward at the corners, and her long stride for a girl.
    IN THE FALL , Leon was sprung and called Ramon to invite him to a party. It was to be on a Monday night. Borislav’s was closed on Mondays, so Ramon could go. He insisted that Jelena go with him. She needs to know about me, he said to Borislav, just as I need to know about her. She will meet my family and have some idea in the event that we are ever questioned by the authorities. Borislav nodded and informed Jelena. She was furious. Don’t talk to me of government, Uncle! Why did I come here and risk losing everything if not to have an end to government in my life?
    What is the everything you risk losing? Ramon said.
    Oh, shut up, you—going to Borislav like a child.
    When Monday came, Ramon picked her up in a car supplied by Leon. She was clearly taken aback by this luxury—a town car with a driver in a black suit—but she pretended to be unimpressed, justas he’d expected she would. It was a warm night and she wore her white jacket from the wedding, but with pale olive slacks and a flower-patterned blouse, with an Orthodox cross hanging in her cleavage. Ramon supposed that the cross and the pendant on her navel were in a direct line. She saw him looking and grabbed his tie and pulled him toward her. Listen, Mister Ramon pest, you can wrap Borislav around your finger, but I know what is in that mind of yours and I’m telling you it will never happen, you understand? Never! Is that clear to you, my husband? Never! And she let go and sat back in the car.
    Ramon adjusted his tie. He said, I don’t like you, either, Jelena, but if you required me to perform the conjugal duties of a husband I would comply, if only to honor our sacred bond.
    THE PARTY WAS in Leon’s loft and it was filled with glamorous people, sinuous and of high fashion, all of them dancing intensely. A DJ was running the show. Music throbbed up from the floor and colored lights rotated slowly over the dancers, as if examining them. Jelena shook her head and he got her to say something. She said that the lights reminded her of her childhood, when searchlights had moved over the rooftops at night.
    Ramon found a place for them among glass tables for two in a far corner of the loft, where on wheeled carts food was set out for the taking: platters of shrimp, sushi, slices of roast beef, a sculpted pyramid of caviar on a salver with points of toast, diced onion, sour cream, capers, and lemon in attendance.
    Jelena’s eyes widened. She sipped her Coca-Cola. She moved her chair closer to Ramon’s. Let me ask you something that I don’t understand, she said. This is your brother, a very rich man, I guess, to have all this. I see his place with its paintings and big windowsoverlooking the river and all his friends of every color, who are what is called beautiful people, yes? But Ramon the brother waits tables in Brooklyn. How is this explained?
    Ramon said, I love my brother, but I do not share his life’s values.
    Saying this, he looked over the crowd and recognized several of Leon’s men.
    Two had been at the door as he came in. For a moment, he’d seen a question in their eyes, perhaps because of Jelena, but a moment later Leon was there and the brothers hugged and Ramon said, Leon, this is my wife, Jelena.
    Leon saw them now and came over. Why aren’t you dancing? he said to Ramon.
    She chooses not to.
    Come, Leon said, and without giving Jelena a choice in the matter he took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor.
    Ramon watched them, Leon flushed with exuberance, with freedom, a graceful dancer with creative moves, and Jelena clearly feeling out of her element, seeing around her the young women in all the fashions of planned