The Ex

12

Deirdre stood hunched close to the public phone, as if to keep her conversation as private as possible, though she was alone on the dark street of shabby office buildings and closed shops. There wasn’t much light except for the corner where the phone was, and where some faintly glowing show windows cast pale dim illumination over the sidewalk half a block away. A red neon sign near the intersection said that used watches were sold there. There was a faint but ripe smell of sewage in the night air.

“I’ve decided to stay in New York,” she told Darlene. “To live here.”

“That would be a mistake, Deirdre.” Darlene’s voice on the phone was firm and positive. “You must not have thought this all the way through.”

“Oh, but I have. And I know this is the place for me. That I absolutely belong here.”

Darlene laughed. “I’m not sure anyone belongs here. New York is a hard city. It will allow you anything and forgive you nothing.”

“Like the rest of the world.”

“No, much harder than the rest of the world. Most of that world, anyway”

“You more or less live here.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Then I can get used to it,” Deirdre said.

“What about your job in Saint Louis? What will you do for money here in New York?”

“I have a job lined up.”

“What sort of job?”

“Import and export. In and out.”

Darlene was quiet. Deirdre could imagine her sitting in her apartment, maybe with a cup of tea beside her, with her legs curled beneath her and her hair and makeup perfect. Like in a movie. Maybe she even had a white telephone.

“Listen, Deirdre,” Darlene finally said, “it isn’t that I don’t like your company-”

“Oh, sure.”

“C’mon now, Deirdre, give me a break. I’m only trying to keep you from making the same mistake made by a lot of people unfamiliar with how New York can be for them. It’s a dangerous city.”

“Everywhere is dangerous. I learned that early. Horrible things can happen to you even at home in your own bed.”

“I wish I could change your mind.”

“You try,” Deirdre said, “but you can’t change the way I think. The way I am. Or arrange my life so it’s like yours. You’ll have to have the wisdom to accept what you can’t arrange.”

“Where are you calling from?” Darlene asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to the movies. In New York, you can go to the movies almost any time of the day or night. It’s wonderful.”

A man in a grimy green muscle shirt, cut off so his protruding stomach showed, appeared a few feet away from the phone. He looked like a small, chunky Burt Lancaster, only with darker hair on his head and more hair on his body Even his stomach was dark with hair. He grinned and Burt Lancaster was there even stronger, only uglier, with much coarser features.

“You don’t know the parts of town that are dangerous,” Darlene said on the phone.

“You about done talkin’, sweetheart?” the man asked. Above the grin, his eyes consumed her.

“Who said that?” Darlene sounded alarmed.

“Don’t worry. It’s just some guy waiting to use the phone.”

Burt Lancaster grinned wider.

“Deirdre, listen-”

“Sorry, Darlene, I’ve gotta hang up. The gentleman wants to make a call. I’ll phone you back later about New York.”

She replaced the receiver and started to walk away from the phone. Burt was suddenly in front of her, still with the toothy grin. Didn’t he know he was overdoing it?

“This is a bad neighborhood, sweets. Interesting things can happen to a looker like you.”

“You’re in the wrong role,” Deirdre said. “Even the wrong movie.”

“Role? Movie?” He shook his head, then glanced up and down the dark street. “You’re gonna play the scene just like I tell you, so you might as well accept that fact. You might say I’m gonna be your director.” His hand touched his crotch. “You really wouldn’t mind that at all, would you?”

Deirdre’s right arm shot straight out so the heel of her hand slammed into the man’s nose.

He backed up several steps, his fingers clutching his broken nose. There was blood on his shirt and dribbling down onto his hairy stomach.

For an instant rage almost propelled him toward her, then he seemed to notice what was in her eyes. It wasn’t the fear he’d expected. It was something else entirely. He stood still.

She stepped toward him, and he moved away.

“I was only trying to be nice to you,” he said, spitting blood.

“You’ve already been very nice to me,” Deirdre told him. “Maybe you can be even nicer.”

He stared at her with uncomprehending eyes, then turned and walked quickly away.

She stood still. He glanced back twice to make sure she wasn’t following.

When he saw that she was smiling, he walked even faster and crossed the street.

She shrugged and shook her head. “Men!” she said softly to herself.