flourished by the river.
I played until my arms felt like rubber and then stalled by the north bank, staring at the sunlight shining through tree limbs. The days were growing longer.
I glanced at my watch – 3:05.
I had a distant dim-light inkling that I was missing something.
Somewhere I wanted to be. Someone . . .
Tea at three.
Naomi would already be at Deux Gros Nez.
I looked at the clear water dripping off my dry suit. A few hard paddles put me back in the current, thrusting forth through the next water feature with a rush of wave motion and rolling foam. I lifted my boat out on the south bank downstream and trotted past the Park Tower to my bike.
The slight incline pedaling Arlington toward California Avenue burned the cores of my quadriceps. I pedaled hard for speed. Halfway home I glanced at my watch – 3:22.
Muffled sirens wailed in the distance.
I ducked my head and pumped onward, bouncing over uneven pavement to my garage.
I lifted the garage door to the groaning sound of rusted springs, left the boat and my bike as they were, and stripped out of my wet gear.
In my room I ran my fingers along the shirts hanging in the closet and picked out my favorite, a faded brown North Face short sleeve. I buttoned on a pair of blue jeans, threw on some socks, and skated down the hallway like a hockey player, grappling the frame of the bathroom doorway en route.
Comb your hair, brush your teeth.
I squirted a bullet of toothpaste in my mouth and shuffled a towel through my hair. Turning water full blast into the sink I rinsed my mouth, spat, and took one glance in the mirror.
A beanie would have to do.
Cinching one over my ears, I fetched my shoes, hopped out into the garage, slid into the Passat, and checked the clock on the dashboard – 3:46. She’ll so be gone.
Ignition . I shot glances in the mirrors, backed into the street, and fifty feet later halted at a stop sign.
An elderly woman with a walker inched through the crosswalk.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift . . . Shuffle . . .
She’d only made it to my passenger-side headlight.
I set the e-brake and opened my door. “Hi, ma’am. May I help you? Here.” I reached for her walker and her arm.
She screamed.
I spun around. “No, no. Don’t do that. No, see – ”
She whacked my forearm with her handbag. I stepped back in disbelief. She hit me again, spoke something in Basque, and spat on my shoes.
I looked to the sky.
She faced forward and scooted on.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift. Shuffle.
Back in my car the time glowed on the dash – 3:51.
I set my forehead on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.
CHAPTER 11
Five minutes after four I ascended the exterior purple staircase of the brick building housing Deux Gros Nez café. Through the glass door I could see all the tables and the French-paned windows in the back.
No Naomi.
I exhaled and turned the doorknob. Dangling wind chimes clanked.
A girl with braided brown ponytails and a stained apron greeted me from behind the counter. “Howzit?”
“Good, thanks.” I eyed the tables near the back wall.
Two middle-aged women chatted at one. A guy in his twenties clacked at a laptop keyboard on another. A girl scribbled on paper between two behemoth textbooks. A young couple cooed by a window at the north wall.
“Anything I can get for you?” Ponytails wiped her hands on a towel.
I took a stool by the bar counter. “Yeah, how about a cappuccino?”
“I can make an evergreen or a flower in the foam, if you’d like?”
“Sure. Anything but a heart.”
She gave an intuitive nod and tamped an espresso brew handle clear. A minute later she frothed milk in a pitcher and spooned it into a small cup. She slid a saucer in front of me and leaned on her forearms. “One cappy.”
I took a taste. “That hits the spot.”
She grinned. “What’s her name?”
I almost coughed cappuccino foam out of my nose. I set the cup down and ran the back of my hand along my mouth. “Just a
I played until my arms felt like rubber and then stalled by the north bank, staring at the sunlight shining through tree limbs. The days were growing longer.
I glanced at my watch – 3:05.
I had a distant dim-light inkling that I was missing something.
Somewhere I wanted to be. Someone . . .
Tea at three.
Naomi would already be at Deux Gros Nez.
I looked at the clear water dripping off my dry suit. A few hard paddles put me back in the current, thrusting forth through the next water feature with a rush of wave motion and rolling foam. I lifted my boat out on the south bank downstream and trotted past the Park Tower to my bike.
The slight incline pedaling Arlington toward California Avenue burned the cores of my quadriceps. I pedaled hard for speed. Halfway home I glanced at my watch – 3:22.
Muffled sirens wailed in the distance.
I ducked my head and pumped onward, bouncing over uneven pavement to my garage.
I lifted the garage door to the groaning sound of rusted springs, left the boat and my bike as they were, and stripped out of my wet gear.
In my room I ran my fingers along the shirts hanging in the closet and picked out my favorite, a faded brown North Face short sleeve. I buttoned on a pair of blue jeans, threw on some socks, and skated down the hallway like a hockey player, grappling the frame of the bathroom doorway en route.
Comb your hair, brush your teeth.
I squirted a bullet of toothpaste in my mouth and shuffled a towel through my hair. Turning water full blast into the sink I rinsed my mouth, spat, and took one glance in the mirror.
A beanie would have to do.
Cinching one over my ears, I fetched my shoes, hopped out into the garage, slid into the Passat, and checked the clock on the dashboard – 3:46. She’ll so be gone.
Ignition . I shot glances in the mirrors, backed into the street, and fifty feet later halted at a stop sign.
An elderly woman with a walker inched through the crosswalk.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift . . . Shuffle . . .
She’d only made it to my passenger-side headlight.
I set the e-brake and opened my door. “Hi, ma’am. May I help you? Here.” I reached for her walker and her arm.
She screamed.
I spun around. “No, no. Don’t do that. No, see – ”
She whacked my forearm with her handbag. I stepped back in disbelief. She hit me again, spoke something in Basque, and spat on my shoes.
I looked to the sky.
She faced forward and scooted on.
Lift. Shuffle.
Lift. Shuffle.
Back in my car the time glowed on the dash – 3:51.
I set my forehead on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.
CHAPTER 11
Five minutes after four I ascended the exterior purple staircase of the brick building housing Deux Gros Nez café. Through the glass door I could see all the tables and the French-paned windows in the back.
No Naomi.
I exhaled and turned the doorknob. Dangling wind chimes clanked.
A girl with braided brown ponytails and a stained apron greeted me from behind the counter. “Howzit?”
“Good, thanks.” I eyed the tables near the back wall.
Two middle-aged women chatted at one. A guy in his twenties clacked at a laptop keyboard on another. A girl scribbled on paper between two behemoth textbooks. A young couple cooed by a window at the north wall.
“Anything I can get for you?” Ponytails wiped her hands on a towel.
I took a stool by the bar counter. “Yeah, how about a cappuccino?”
“I can make an evergreen or a flower in the foam, if you’d like?”
“Sure. Anything but a heart.”
She gave an intuitive nod and tamped an espresso brew handle clear. A minute later she frothed milk in a pitcher and spooned it into a small cup. She slid a saucer in front of me and leaned on her forearms. “One cappy.”
I took a taste. “That hits the spot.”
She grinned. “What’s her name?”
I almost coughed cappuccino foam out of my nose. I set the cup down and ran the back of my hand along my mouth. “Just a
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