New York Echoes Read Free Page A

you’d
come.”
    â€œWere you?”
    â€œYou were so
considerate the other day. You were great.”
    â€œSo, how are you
doing?”
    â€œI’m lonely as hell,”
he said. “I miss her like crazy. I’m barely able to function.”
    â€œMaybe there are
people you can talk with,” she said, hoping he might take her subtle suggestion
to see a therapist.
    â€œThey can’t help. They
can’t bring her back to me. She’s gone to Europe for a long tour.”
    â€œMaybe she’ll return
when she comes back,” she suggested. His downbeat talk was having a negative
effect on her.
    â€œNo she won’t. I know
her. She’s made up her mind.”
    He then went into a
long dissertation on their history together, how they had met, how they decided
to live together and the things they did together, describing the most intimate
details.
    â€œI felt, don’t take
this amiss, rejuvenated. Every time we made love, I felt twenty years younger.
We slept together like spoons.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine, Bob,”
she said, offering a big smile, suddenly wary at the reference. “You’ll see.
Someone will come along to recharge your batteries.”
    She was immediately
sorry she had put it that way, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.
“I’m very happily married,” she said, as if to draw the curtain on any errant
ideas he might be entertaining.
    â€œI’m so grateful to
you for listening, Carol.”
    â€œCaroline,” she
corrected again, putting out her hand to say goodbye.  He took it and squeezed
it in obvious gratitude.
    A couple of days
later, they went to Agronsky party. Caroline counted eight guests, none of whom
she recognized as coming from the building. Mrs. Agronsky, her name was Sheila,
was a tall blonde in a ponytail with high cheekbones and the stringy body of a
model. She was dressed in tight, shiny silk slacks and a colorful, almost sheer
blouse, greeting each guest with enthusiasm.
    â€œSo glad you could come,”
she said. Then bending over, she addressed Caroline and Jules in a whisper. “I
know it was short notice, but one couple crapped out. You guys are life
savers.”
    Caroline looked at the
carefully laid table set for ten with an elaborate flowered centerpiece.
    â€œSo we’re last minute
fill-ins,” Jules said.
    â€œBe glad she thought
of us.”
    â€œI’m overjoyed,” he
said with sarcasm surveying the group.
    The guests were youngish, thirties and
forties, some dressed preppy like their host and a number of the women of the
type she designated to herself as “blonde goddesses.” It soon became apparent
that most of the male guests had known each other from college. Yalies, mostly.
Not knowing anyone, she and Jules felt somewhat out of place. They had met at Queens College.
    â€œBecause you live
under one roof,” Jules whispered. “It doesn’t mean you have things in common.”
    â€œBe a good guest,”
Caroline remonstrated, working the room, trying to engage people in
conversation. She noted that the wine flowed copiously and dinner, which was
catered, was timed so that the cocktail time would last longer.
    â€œWhen are we going to
eat?” Jules whispered at about nine. The guests had been cocktailing for about
two hours by then, with no sign of letup.
    â€œBen told me you were
a very interesting person,” Sheila said, finally getting around to a more
in-depth conversation with Caroline. By then, Jules had recognized his
irrelevancy to the group, most of whom were young Wall Street hotshots. He
feigned looking over the books in the bookcases.
    â€œWe met on the
elevator,” Caroline said.
    â€œDid you?”
    They traded the usual
pleasantries. Sheila was, as she suspected, a fashion model.
    â€œWe don’t know many
people in the building,” Sheila said. Her words were slurred. “I guess its time
we got