Page 41 of Idle

Bo’s ex accepts the glass from Paige, and I walk over to the women and touch Paige’s shoulder. “Ready?”

She looks from Mary Ellen to Bo, then turns her attention to me and gives me a swift nod. To the group, she says, “Jesse and I are going to walk the High Line to clear our heads.” She looks at Mary Ellen. “Want to join us?”

“No, thanks. I want to work on these designs.”

Paige nods and turns to Bo. “Enjoy your workout.”

Inordinately proud she didn’t ask him to join us, I extend my palm toward the door. She precedes me into the hall and before I close the door, I can’t keep from looking at my roommate. Bo’s scowl could stretch from the ViewPad across the Hudson River. I close the door behind me.

“What brought on that smirk?”

Not about to confess to my partner, I reply, “I’m looking forward to getting fresh air, that’s all.”

We leave the apartment building via the High Line exit and are inundated with others doing the same exact thing. The old railroad tracks are filled in with lush vegetation. Statues are placed in random spots. Paige walks over to one installation called “Walking on Moonbeams,” which depicts a child hopping across silver waves.

“This is fantastic!” Aloud, she reads the placard about the artist and the statue and takes out her phone for a photo. After showing me, she tries to email it to herself only to remember our phones don’t have internet. “Shit. I can’t keep it.”

“We’ll just have to come back here after we get our phones back and take another.”Whoa. What’s this “we’ll” shit?

She reads from the placard again. “Says this sculpture will only be here through the end of the month.”

Filming ends next week, which is the start of next month. Her face falls. To cheer her up, I say, “I bet there are tons of photos of it on the internet.”

“Yeah.” She kicks an unseen pebble.

She seems so forlorn, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and tug her close. “Let’s see what other stuff we can uncover out here that we’ll never memorialize. Like him.” Letting her go, I point to a random guy with a cat on his head.

She giggles.

“Or her.”

A woman hawks huge, ugly jewelry and yells at people who pass her by without purchasing.

Her giggles intensify.

We manage to get by the woman by hiding behind an unsuspecting group. “Or I could buy you an ice cream.” I point to a vendor selling cones.

“Only if they have strawberry.”

“Let’s go check.” We approach the booth and her eyes light up when they have her favorite flavor, so I buy two—vanilla for me and strawberry for her. Using my cone to point to a rare empty park bench, we hustle across the walkway and take a seat facing the Hudson River.

Her pink tongue catches the melting ice cream, and I focus on the water. No need to imagine what that tongue could do to any part of my anatomy.She’s with Bo.

“Thank you. This is a perfect day.”

My hand snakes down to touch her thigh, but I retract it at the last second. “Agreed.”

Holding her cone upright, she lets her head fall backward. Too bad her expressive eyes are hidden behind sunglasses.Maybe that’s a good thing. “I’m happy we came out here.” She continues lapping at her cone.

“I am too. We needed a break from the ViewPad and the competition. Being out here reminded me to enjoy the gifts we have.”

She swallows. “Some of them are even free, like taking a walk. People watching.” She pauses. “Checking out amazing art.”

Flute music starts up behind us. I add, “Listening to buskers.”

“Feeds the soul, doesn’t it?”

With the lyrical notes floating around us, and the bright blue sky overhead, warmth in my body comes from within rather than the sun. Growing up, Homer always put down the arts in favor of anything that would make money. Marge, on the other hand, supported the performing arts like plays, musicals, ballet, and symphony. Homer only agreed to them because it was a way to attend something and get credit for it in the business world. Neither thought much about furniture other than to hire decorators every five years to redo our home.

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