Page 98 of The New Couple in 5B

“Of course,” I say. “I promise.”

He hesitates again, looks back and forth between me and the door, trying to decide, I guess, between his life and mine. “Hey,” he says. “Do you have an extra key to the back door?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Let me have it,” he says. “You know, in case I need to get in and Abi won’t let me up.”

I hesitate a second, wondering how I would feel if Chad gave someone a key to our place.

“Just for now. Until Chad gets back, and things settle down,” he says.

I head to the kitchen and fish the extra set out of the junk drawer, bring it back to him.

“Stay in touch with me today,” he says. “Let me know how you’re doing.”

I give him a nod, not trusting my voice, not wanting to say goodbye to my friend, but knowing that I have no real right to ask him to stay. I flash as I sometimes do on that night we spent together. Where would we be right now if I hadn’t left him before the sun came up, met Chad the following week?

Of course, there’s no way to know the road not taken or where it would have led us. And I remind myself that I never wanted that anyway.

When he’s gone, I try Chad again and leave a voice mail because of course he doesn’t answer.

“Hey, look. We need to talk. It’s urgent.” But it feels like he’s on the moon. And here I am on Earth, looking up, searching for him through the clouds.

I shower and pull on my simple black shift, heels and a blazer.

In the mirror, I look polished and put together. Inside, I’m pulling and fraying, coming apart, worried about my husband, his lies, our future, this building, its ugly history. The apartment, so beautiful with its crown molding and tall windows, the stunning wood floors and fireplace with original mantel, suddenly feels malicious.

Are you safe here, Rosie?Max asked.

The truth is I have no idea.

My phone rings as I am about to sneak out the back way. My body floods with relief when I see Chad’s number on my screen.

But when I answer, there’s only a thick static. I think I hear his voice.

“Rosie, Rosie, can you hear me?”

“Chad. Where are you? The connection is bad.”

The static grows louder and louder, and then the call disconnects with those annoying beeps. I try him back, go straight to voice mail. Try again with the same results. I stand there, will the phone to ring again, but it doesn’t.

I beat back a wave of despair, feeling like the lifeline between my husband and me has been brutally cut dead.

twenty-nine

Willa

1963

A pall has settled over the building since Miles’s death. His accident was caused by a terrible malfunction. One that was foretold by strange noises and an occasional grinding and stuttering of the machinery, a topic that had apparently been on the agenda of the last board meeting. A service company had been called to diagnose and repair any problems but found no major issues. The elevator was serviced, old parts replaced, gears greased. The inspection found the old elevator in good order.

How it malfunctioned, fell to the bottom of the shaft, leaving a gaping hole through the open doors for Miles to walk through, is a mystery.

The funeral, held at the Church of the Ascension on Madison Avenue, is a misery, with mourners wailing as the priest tells us that all children are welcomed home personally by God. The day is dark with heavy rains and a wild thunderstorm as if the weather itself is railing against the accidental death of an innocent child.

Hewasinnocent. A mean, angry little boy, but still, just a child. And I was so cruel to him. Nasty, treacherous me.

Suddenly, the building I have loved seems so cold, vibrating with malice. And the city feels ugly and dangerous. For the first time, I am eager to leave it all behind.

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