Free Lion's Share by Rochelle Rattner Page B

other human beings.
    â€œAnyway, enough about Kathe,” Ed said, buttering a slice of whole wheat toast. “How’s your painting going?” She answered easily. They talked about the panels she was painting, about being out of the city.
    â€œWhen I first took the job with APL, I thought it would give me more time to spend weekends at the shore, but the longer I’m there, the more I realize I’m happiest spending weekends in the city, working part of the day, maybe taking in a movie or a concert Saturday night,” Ed said. “And it’s interesting what advantages there are to working under stress: I’ve been running myself so ragged lately I don’t spend much time eating, let alone dreaming about food.”
    â€œAha! The perfect example of the young executive climbing the corporate ladder,” Jana teased. “Working so hard you don’t even mind that you’re working.”
    â€œI wouldn’t go quite that far,” Ed said. “I’m just happy doing what I’m doing.”
    â€œYou don’t sometimes think about moving up in the company? Taking over Frank’s job, for instance? Come on, confess. You can trust me.”
    â€œI never doubted you for a moment. But seriously, Frank sits behind a desk most of the day. The only people he meets are CEOs and the board of directors. If I had to go to all those fancy luncheons, I’d gain weight again. It might be nice to be making Frank’s salary, but I’m not wanting for anything.” Ed heard himself talking and did a mental double-take. How many women had he met in the past few years who could tease him about “climbing the corporate ladder”? More to the point, could he have admitted the truth to any of the others? He wasn’t interested in those women for the same reason he wasn’t interested in Frank’s job: they insisted on being part of the social scene, going to all the chic places. Look at Frank running off to the Hamptons every weekend; contrast that with Jana’s telling him that growing up in Lakewood had been beach enough for her.
    â€œWhen I graduated college, I thought I’d become a journalist and write articles that would change the way people look at the world.” Ed laughed to think of his younger self and how easily he could share that with Jana; something about her seemed to encourage openness. “After two or three years in the work force, I realized that even political columnists can’t bring about such changes. Working as community coordinator for APL lets me at least affect the way a handful of people think.”
    â€œIt took you two or three years to lose your innocence, did it? You should have been an artist. I moved to New York and spent my first three days here taking a portfolio of drawings around, not making appointments, just footing it from one gallery to the next. I didn’t even think to make slides. I lugged around the whole batch, assuming the galleries would be waiting with open arms to receive me. It was a shock to my whole system, not to mention my feet.” In a moment of giddiness, Jana let her leg brush lightly against Ed’s.
    The conversation continued effortlessly until Jana had to go. Ed helped her into a cab, making her promise to call and let him know she’d arrived safely. She climbed aboard the three o’clock bus a split second before it left, and settled next to a thin young man already absorbed in a book. His presence seemed innocuous. After this morning, Ed’s was the only body she could imagine getting close to hers.

    Jana spent Sunday and Monday working on the three-screen panel she’d been describing to Ed over brunch. It juxtaposed three park scenes—Bryant Park filled with winos, a black-and-white imitation of Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon Along the Thames , and lunch-hour businessmen in City Hall Park. This, along with Mulberry Street and a few other paintings, was