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Constance stood very still.
“God, God,” she said, “how I wish I had your dreams.”
“Ask and I’ll give you the loan.”
“You poor dumb innocent stupid kid. That’s why I love you. Somewhere, at heaven’s gate, can I trade in my old chimney soot nightmares for fresh clean angel wings?”
“Ask your brother.”
“He threw me downstairs to hell long ago.”
“You haven’t answered my question. Do you like yourself ?”
“What I see in the mirror, sure. It’s what’s inside the glass, deep under, scares me. I wake late nights with all that stuff swimming behind my face. Christ, that’s sad. Can you help me?”
“How? I don’t know which is which, you or your mirror. What’s up front, what’s beneath.”
Constance shifted her feet.
“Can’t you stand still?” I said. “If I say ‘red light,’ stop. Your feet are stuck in that cement. What then?”
I saw her shoes ache to pull free.
“People are staring at us!”
“The theater’s closed. Most of the lights are out. The forecourt is empty.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve got to go. Straight on.”
I looked up at the front doors of Grauman’s, still open, with some workmen carrying equipment inside.
“It’s the next step, but God, how do I get there?”
“Just walk.”
“You don’t understand. It’s hopscotch. There must be other footprint paths to the door, if I can find them. Which way do I jump?”
Her head moved. The dark hat fell to the pavement. Constance’s close-cropped bronze hair came into view. She still stared ahead, as if afraid to show me her face.
“If I say go, what then?” I asked.
“I’ll go.”
“And meet me again, where?”
“God knows. Quick! Say ‘go.’ They’re catching up.”
“Who?”
“All those others. They’ll kill me if I don’t kill first. You wouldn’t want me to die right here? Well, would you?”
I shook my head.
“Ready, set, go?” she asked.
“Ready, set.”
And she was gone.
