Laurie snorts. “What did you put on the sign?”
“We had no sign,” Millie answers. “Those who had need knew where to find me.”
Smoothing a few silver flyaways that escaped their bobby pins, Millie sighs. “This space has had many lives since then. First it was a greasy spoon. Then a pastry shop. Then a wine bar. Then a cheaper-than-the-wine-bar bar. Now it serves coffee and the World Wide Web.”
I glance around the café. Even in this tiny space, the few occupants are hunkered over their laptops. Or frantically texting. The staff are huddled near the espresso machine. Each face in the coffee shop is blanched with fear. No one is certain what’s happened.
“What’s coming next?” I ask.
“He’s hunting Millie,” Saul says.
Millie reaches for him. Her hand, the tone and texture of an ancient peach, disappears in his grasp. “We can’t be sure of that.”
“Arbus doesn’t hold grudges,” Saul barks. “He lives for them. Don’t be foolish about this, Mildred.”
Millie blushes when he says her full name. “I didn’t think I would matter anymore. It’s been so many years.”
Laurie coughs. “I don’t mean to belittle your, um, history, but I think you’re missing the point.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Teetering back a few steps when Saul scoffs at him, Laurie tells us, “It’s not that you’re wrong. I get it. Arbus lives for grudges.”
“Don’t need my own words repeated to me, boy.” Saul’s one eye has mastered the skill of intimidating glares.
“No question there, friend. Er, sir. Er.” Laurie gulps, waving his hands at his sides as if he’s working hard to stay afloat. “How to put this delicately . . .”
Saul half rises, but Millie clucks her tongue and he sits again.
With a sudden gasp, I clap my hand over my mouth.
Laurie points at me. “Yes! Thank you. She gets it! Please help me out here, sis.”
“He might come after you eventually.” I speak slowly, having to remember to take each breath. “But you’re not his most elusive prey. You’re not the one he’s hunting.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Saul growls at me. “You’re nothing more than a baby, learning to crawl in all of this.”
“A baby is all this is about,” Laurie says quietly.
Millie draws a sharp breath. “Oh.”
“You said it yourself.” I hold Saul’s unfriendly gaze. “Arbus lives for grudges.”
I look away from him so I can catch Millie’s eye. “You know there’s a grudge he holds that’s bigger than a professional one.”
“His family,” Millie answers.
“Stephen.” My voice cracks and all I can do is look at the floor.
“And we just left him alone,” Laurie finishes for me.
The four of us fall silent. The coffee shop remains abuzz with the clack of keyboards and the worried voices of the baristas.
I sneak a glance at Saul. He’s shaking his head, but his grip on the coffee mug has gone slack. It’s not hard to understand why he so bullishly struck out on his own. Why he ended up here, the site of his last encounter with Maxwell Arbus. This place must teem with memories, both hard and sweet, of his life protecting Millie.
In crises we fixate on keeping the things we love safe. I don’t think it was his work ethic that rendered Saul willing to fight on, half-blind because of a curse, until Millie was out of harm’s way.
What gave Saul resolve is the same thing that has me backing away from the others. Then I’m out the door and I’m running. I’m halfway down the block when I hear Laurie shouting my name, but his voice fades quickly. My feet strike the pavement as fast as I can will them to. If the NYPD wasn’t already fully occupied by Arbus’s attack on Central Park, there’s no way I wouldn’t have been tackled by an officer. I knock over half a dozen hapless pedestrians and almost overturn a stroller in my reckless flight. I don’t stop to apologize. Not once do I look back. I’m chased by every epithet in the dictionary and a few threats of violence.
When I finally reach our building and blow past the doorman, my lungs are on fire and my thighs feel like rubber.
The doorman follows me towards the elevator. “Are you all right, miss?”
I’m bent over, gulping air, but I nod and wave him off. He gives me a dubious look, but fortunately the elevator arrives and I stumble inside, hitting the button for the third floor until the doors close.
Despite my best attempts to breathe normally, I’m still seeing black spots when I reach Stephen’s door. I begin banging on the wood with both fists like a wild thing, aware that I’m dancing an uncomfortably close two-step with madness.
Both my fists are lifted, about to strike the door again, when it opens. Caught off balance, I fall into the apartment. Though I can see Stephen is there, startled and looking as bone-tired as I feel blood-crazed, I don’t know if he’ll catch me. He’s told me about the effort it takes to become material. That knowledge is little help, as I can’t stop myself from falling now. I’d been flinging myself against his door with all the strength I had left.
I close my eyes. Not wanting to see the floor when I hit it. I can take the bruised elbows and knees, but I can’t bear the idea of falling through him. I don’t want to see myself pass through like he isn’t standing in front of me. I need him to be there. To be real.
He is.
He catches me.
And I can breathe again.
But with my breath comes tears. Tears that have been trapped inside for months. Tears I’d convinced myself weren’t there.
Now free, they flood my eyes. There are so many, for so long, I think I’ll probably drown in them.
Stephen doesn’t say anything. He just holds on to me.
Chapter 27
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.
But not even that. Now, twenty-three. Less.
People say that time slips through our fingers like sand. What they don’t acknowledge is that some of the sand sticks to the skin. These are the memories that will remain, memories of the time when there was still time left.
* * *
Three minutes.
I hold her for three minutes. I am strong enough for three minutes. We haven’t really gone anywhere, but it feels like we’re returning to each other. The assumption of the word reunion is that, once you’re together again, you are united. Two as one. Pulling close to someone is only a temporary symbol. It’s the way you breathe with each other that’s the telltale sign.