The Inner City Read Free

block or two—there’s even some grass and some bushes, but that seems to be all there is, despite all this talk about a pedestrian path going all the way uptown. Instead, there’s mesh fencing blocking off the new paths, and lots of signs about construction. The signs are dirty; there’s even a bush growing from construction debris.
    At five, she wanders back, already half-convinced that the letterhead must be out of date. She turns the corner at West Street and stops—all along Charles Lane there are people in suits and dresses, with briefcases and shopping bags and coffee cups in their hands. They move rapidly up and down the lane, but they’re eerily silent about it, not even their footsteps make a sound. But no doubt about it, they look like a commuter crowd, probably heading to the PATH train station just a few blocks away. It suddenly looks like Charles Lane is a thriving business artery. The buildings must be much deeper than they seem.
    Everyone is coming out from one door, and when she gets there, she sees that it’s actually a newsstand. She’s so surprised that she walks in to get a better idea. At once, all the rush slows down. Lena stands still, looking around, and everyone inside seems to pause, picking up magazines or studying the sign above the counter for sodas and bottled waters. Lena sees a doorway marked “Employees Only,” which has a dark curtain instead of a door. A man comes through, looks a little surprised, and then a small red light goes on over the doorway. She buys a soda and then leaves, joining the silent crowd outside as they walk to the end of the lane and disperse.
    The only possibility she can think of is that this is a classified work place of some kind, maybe a secret government job, and the idea thrills her. She would like to do something dangerous or risky or at least more interesting than her usual. She pictures herself bluffing her way in, like a spy or counterspy. She’s never done anything underhanded before; it’s her turn. People are always taking advantage of her; let them watch out now.
    Besides, it would be great to have a job that she could walk to. The subways are out of control right now with one accident after the other. The engineers say the signal lights are wrong; the maintenance people say the lights are fine. Trains crash into each other head to head or head to tail, it doesn’t matter, she’d rather stay off them.
    She wears an ironed blouse and a neat skirt the next morning and holds a briefcase with the papers she had picked up on the street, placed in a folder marked “Personal.” On top of that she puts her resume, and on top of
that
she puts Harry Biskabit’s memo. She gets to Charles Lane at 8:00 the next morning, and it’s empty. There’s one dog, one dog walker, and that’s it. She’s annoyed, because she’s trying so hard to outsmart everyone and it doesn’t seem to be working. The whole of Charles Lane has a blank, locked face. She touches the door where the newsstand was, and it’s shut solid and looks suddenly like it never was open, never in its life. She goes over to the river again, looking out at the traffic jam. There are a few boats on the river. She’s playing magic with herself. She’s telling herself that when she turns around, she’ll see Charles Lane bustling with life.
    Then she turns around, and it is.
    People are rushing around, back and forth. And there’s a little café where the newsstand was. It even has an outside table and two chairs. Why would the stores be different at different times? Maybe it’s some kind of new-wave timeshare scheme. Maybe on holidays it turns into a souvenir shop.
    She merges with a wave of employees as they go through the café door. She steps behind two women, close behind, and to prove she’s with them she starts matching their stride.
    They go through the doorway marked Employees Only. Lena keeps her head steady, trying not to look around too much. There’s a short hallway and