shine through anyway; the apartment was high enough to avoid soot and traffic noise. âItâs a beautiful day out,â Ed said into the receiver, almost as if reading Janaâs thoughts. âGo out on your balcony, read a novel. The work will still be there tomorrow, or the next day. No oneâs standing over you.â
Turning back into the room, Jana held the entire apartment before her. The front door opened onto a long hallway that had two rooms off it: the kitchen and the bedroom; the bathroom, between these, could be entered from either room. The living room itself was huge and had French doors which could be closed to form two rooms. It impressed her as more comfortable than her own apartment, with her paints everywhere and no place to sit except the bed. Two people could easily live here. Taking a deep breath, she recalled an article sheâd read a few years ago in New York Magazine or The New Yorker discussing life in singles barsâit mentioned that people with rent-stabilized apartments were very much in demand. The superficiality had struck her so much at the time that sheâd quoted passages to several people. Yet here she was stooping to that level.
âI know, dear, I know,â Ed said. âNobody promised it would be easy. But remember, Iâm here. Call me back if you want.â He put the phone down, lit a cigarette, and stared off into space, almost unaware of Janaâs presence. âIâm sorry,â he said finally, expelling a long stream of smoke. âShe was desperate, and I didnât want to say Iâd call back later.â
âNo problem. Was that your sister?â Jana was anxious to reassure herself this wasnât some girlfriend.
âNo, no. Sheâs an old friend. An old friend with a lot of problems.â
âSounds like sheâs got a good friend in you.â
âShe used to, I guess. But thereâs a limit. I donât want to get caught up in her hysteria again.â Ed listlessly stretched his arm across the back of the sofa but got to his feet before Jana could come over to join him. âWhy donât we get out of here before Kathe calls back? Come on, Iâll treat you to brunch.â Jana glanced toward her watch, then decided the time didnât matter, she could always take a later bus. She wanted to learn more about Kathe.
They took the elevator down, walked through the cool marble lobby that was the high point of most pre-war buildings, and emerged onto the hot, muggy street. They walked along West End Avenue in silence among Orthodox families returning from the dozens of synagogues tucked away in this area, the men in heavy black coats that looked out of place in this heat. In stark contrast, there were groups of people with beach towels over their arms.
Ed guided her toward the doorway to Marsala Cafe, a little place on the side street just west of Broadway. âThe heatâs been getting to me this weekend,â Jana said, cautiously eyeing the outside tables. âWould you mind sitting inside?â
âMy sentiments exactly. I usually love sunlight, but this humidity is intense even for me.â Inside the air-conditioning was on high, but people were packed close enough to absorb any chill. They let themselves be ushered to a booth whose high back gave off a somewhat exaggerated air of privacy.
âHave you ever heard that old saying about how people come to resemble their dogs?â Ed asked once they were seated. âKathe has long, straight, strawberry blonde hair, parted in the center and curling slightly upward at the endsâjust like a Yorkshire terrier.â
âAnd she has a Yorkshire terrier as a pet, right?â Jana replied. She quickly decided on scrambled eggs and let the menu rest unopened on the table in front of her. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness after the bright sun outside. Ed exchanged a few words with the waitress; this obviously was a