I went to the coffee machine and poured my own, refusing to look at Poppy.
“You’re secretly pleased they get along,” Poppy said.
I drank even though the black coffee was too hot and burned my mouth.
“You need to talk to him.”
“About what?”
She gave me a look. Wrapped in a thick, pink robe, with her hair in disarray, it was like being pointedly stared at by a giant ruffly-feathered bird. “About yourfeelings.”
“What feelings?” I scoffed.
Sweat pinpricked on the back of my neck.
“Oh, I know you tell everyone you’re too tough forfeelings.” She launched into an imitation of my voice. “‘Men are like Oreos,’ you say, ‘They’re good, but you can’t plan your life around them’—”
“Hey, now—”
“But somewhere in that sandwich-padded vault known as your heart, there’s a picture of his face right next to Jester’s.”
“It’s too early in the morning to get mushy,” I said.
“Lie to yourself if you want,” she said, lifting the mug and taking another sip. “But if I had a chance like that, I’d take it. Even if I was afraid it would break my heart in the long run.”
A key hit the front door lock, loud in the relative quiet of early morning.
Mom and Berron came through the door all smiles, bundled up in warm clothing against the autumn cold.
“Where’ve you two been?” I said.
“Berron wanted to show me Central Park in the early morning,” Mom said, patting his arm.
“I thought it wasn’t open till six.”
“No one noticed us,” Berron said.
“Funny how that works,” I said. “Mom, you ready?”
Mom bustled around, making sure she had everything, and also straightening the couch pillows one last time. “I’m ready!”
Poppy went upstairs to get dressed, then joined us again, looking more awake but not quite fully awake. She yawned. “Let’s go see the rising sun thingy.”
We went outside, where our breath steamed into the dark. I unlocked Victorine’s behemoth black SUV and everyone climbed in: Mom in the front, Poppy and Berron in the passenger row; Berron to the outside since he’d have to be dropped off before we left Manhattan for New Jersey.
I’d read that the best view of the reverse Manhattanhenge was on 41st Street at 5th Avenue, so the plan was to cruise around for a few minutes, then turn east on 41st in time to catch the sun rising in perfect alignment with the city grid. We’d ride down 41st toward the East River, then double back, dropping Berron near the Hudson River walking path. Then we’d take the Lincoln Tunnel over to New Jersey and see Mom safely off on her flight.
Watching the dashboard clock, I took us around Central Park first, past Strawberry Fields and up to the North Woods. We passed Victorine’s street and the street for the LWW while going south through the Upper East Side.
The sky began to color.
The timing was right. I continued south on 5th Avenue. We reached the New York Public Library, which faced 41st Street.
“Goodbye, Patience and Fortitude!” Mom waved at the stone library lions. “See you soon!”
We made the turn.
The sun burst into brightness above the edge of the city horizon, a blinding orange slice sliding between the far buildings.
