Pressure Drop Read Free Page B

she had a fever of a hundred and two and probably wouldn’t be in tomorrow. Outside, night fell. Nina looked out the window, noticed for the first time that snow was still falling, fat flakes lit pink by the city’s glow. Jason came into the room.
    â€œHappy birthday,” he said. He put a bottle of champagne on the table.
    â€œRoederer Cristal,” Nina said. “What did that cost?”
    â€œYou can’t ask. It’s a present. Enjoy.”
    â€œAll right. Crack her open.”
    â€œI didn’t mean now.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œYou want to drink it here? With me?”
    â€œWho else?”
    Nina brought wineglasses from the tiny third-floor kitchen. Jason poured. “Many more,” he said.
    â€œYeah.”
    They drank champagne. Pink flakes fell. “Sorry about the impersonal quality of the gift,” Jason said. “It’s hard to know what to get you.”
    â€œDon’t be silly. It’s great.”
    They gazed out the window. Snow muffled the sounds of the city. Nina put her feet on the desk and drained the last of the champagne. Good champagne: it had the power to stop time, or at least her caring about its passage. She closed her eyes and felt warmth spread through her body. For a moment, she was in touch with all the Ninas in her life: little Nina, schoolgirl Nina, graduate student Nina, career girl Nina, businesswoman Nina, and saw the essential Nina, as simple and clear as a line drawing. Or thought she saw. The drink quickly lost its power. Nina opened her eyes and found that Jason was watching her.
    â€œWhat would you really like for your birthday?” he asked.
    â€œA baby,” Nina said. The answer popped out on its own: uninvited, unexpected, unnerving.
    â€œA baby?”
    Nina laughed, a strange, embarrassed laugh that didn’t sound like hers at all.
    â€œDo you mean that?”
    Nina didn’t have a chance to answer. The door opened and Jon came in. “Hi guys,” he said. He gave Nina a shy smile and Jason a kiss on the cheek. They left a few moments later.
    Nina went down to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of Scotch, and returned to her desk. She turned the pages of Dr. Filer’s manuscript. The time has come for new modalities .
    The phone buzzed. Gordie. “Thumbs up,” he said.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThey love it.”
    â€œThey?”
    â€œEverybody.”
    â€œPhil?”
    â€œEverybody includes Phil.” He lowered his voice. “And vice versa,” he added.
    â€œMy client will be ecstatic.”
    â€œAnd pay you appropriately, I trust. When’s pub date?”
    â€œWhen’s your next opening?”
    Gordie laughed. “I’ll get back to you.”
    Nina sat at her desk. She finished the Scotch, poured another, a small one. The snow stopped falling. The phone stopped buzzing. The working day was over, even for the diehards. Little Fielding had his mummy by now. Nina rose, went downstairs, put on her coat and boots, locked up, began walking home. She saw the night’s TV schedule in her mind, laid out in handy boxes.
    The streets were white and deserted, as though the slate had been wiped clean. Christmas plenty filled the stores, but everything was closed. Halfway home Nina paused outside an antique shop. A gleaming white rocking horse stood under a spotlight in the display window. It had a proud head with flared nostrils, a flowing jet-black mane and long jet-black tail, a fine red leather saddle and bridle. The horse even had a name, hand-tooled on the red stirrups: A CHILLES . Nina stared at it for a long time.
    She heard a sound and turned. A man in rags approached, weaving through the snow. His watery eyes moved to her, to the rocking horse, back to her. Nina recognized him.
    â€œMerry fucking Christmas,” he said, and stumbled on.

3
    â€œTop-notch cervix,” said Dr. Berry when Nina had her legs together and her clothes back on.