“Work is fine. We have a show going up Saturday.”
“Which artist?”
It was nice of him to ask because I didn’t think he cared.
“It’s a joint exhibit. Tobias James and Ailynne Cho.”
“Well, that should be good. Oh, before I forget…” He reached down and handed over two tiny shopping bags: one from Barneys, the other from Tiffany. “For the birthday girl.”
“Twofancy gifts? Wow.”
“Thirteen is a big year,” he said, sipping from his Evian. And then: “One of them is from Eva.”
He had my attention then. “Which one?”
“Barneys.”
Which begged the question: “Why is Eva buying Isabelle a gift from Barneys?”
“It’s not that big a deal, Sol.”
“It is.”
“It’s like a little ring. It’s not a big deal.”
“A little ring from Barneys can be a very big deal, Daniel.”
He sighed, turning to look out the window, the southern view. “Let’s not do this here. Okay?”
Our food arrived then, and we dropped the subject. He asked about my parents, Isabelle’s bunkmates, what I thought of the conflict that had just erupted in Gaza. There was a time when this was not so hard, finding things to say. When we were young, and kind to each other.
That first spring in New York when we were in love and we whiled away hours in Central Park, studying in Sheep’s Meadow and drinking in the lilacs in the Conservatory Garden. He was so tall and brilliant and sure of himself, and he quoted Sartre and Descartes and that was all I needed.
I had just finished my kale salad when Hayes strode up to our table. Suave and gallant in full swagger mode. A printed white shirt, top three buttons undone, skinny black jeans, roguish hair. The polar opposite of Daniel in his gray Zegna suit and a tie I did not recognize but I assumed Eva had something to do with.
“Fancy seeing you here.” He smiled.
“Yes. Imagine that.”
“Hello, I’m Hayes.” He reached over the table to shake Daniel’s hand.
“Daniel, this is Hayes. Hayes, this is Daniel.”
“Daniel.TheDaniel?”
“TheDaniel, yes,” I laughed nervously, and Daniel threw me a peculiar look.
“Daniel, Hayes is… um… Hayes is…”
“Hayes is a novice art collector who is very impressed with this woman’s knowledge of Fauvism,” he said, dimples shining.
I sat there for a second, drinking in the deliciousness of the moment. Daniel, trying to figure it out.
“All right, I’m going to let you get back to your…meeting. And we’ll touch base later.”
“Sounds good.” I smiled, casual.
I watched as Daniel watched Hayes make his way across the room. Heads turning, members murmuring, par for the course.
