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11
Later that weekNina left the gallery with her photographs in a leather case under one arm and took the subway from Brooklyn to Soho. It had snowed earlier in the week, and the city was a mess of gray slush, its residents deep into the late winter fugue Nina had come to recognize. Months of hurrying through the cold from one warm, dry destination to another had taken its toll, the warmth and freedom of summer such a distant memory it almost felt like adream.
She was trudging up the subway stairs when her phone beeped. She waited until she got to the street to step out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and check thenotification.
She had to blink, peer more closely at the name on the display before she could believe it:Peter.
Hey. In the city tomorrow. Want to catch up overdrinks?
She looked at the text for a few seconds before slipping her phone back in her coatpocket.
She and Peter hadn’t exchanged a single text or phone call since their divorce was made final. Last she’d heard he was living in their old house with a teacher seventeen years Nina’s junior. She’d assumed their distance was de rigueur after a divorce like theirs — no children, nothing to force them intocontact.
The thought of seeing him again left her with a complicated mix of emotions she wasn’t at all prepared to deal with. She had all she could handle with Liam, their text exchanges constant and laced with sexual tension she would have denied was possible over such a clinical medium. They had plans to order takeout and stay in with a movie Saturday night, a prospect that both thrilled and terrified her. If it had been difficult to avoid sleeping with him standing by the frigid river and making out in the confines of a car. What would the temptation be like in hisapartment?
She couldn’t wait to findout.
She shook Liam and Peter from her mind and focused on navigating the city’s wet streets, mindful that some of the slush would turn to ice as soon as the sun wentdown.
Ten minutes after leaving the subway station she entered the lobby of her destination, pressed the buzzer, and took the elevator to the sixthfloor.
Robin was waiting outside her apartment door. “You madeit!”
“I did,” Nina said. “It’s disgustingoutside.”
“Is it?” Robin asked. “I worked from home today. I haven’t beenout.”
Nina wiped her feet on the mat inside Robin’s door, took off her coat and boots, and stepped into Robin’s studioapartment.
The space was small, but Nina could have picked it out of a lineup as belonging to Robin. The white walls were a soothing backdrop to bursts of color throughout the room, collected from Robin’s many trips abroad. Nina knew from previous visits that Robin had sewn the throw pillows from saris found in India, the richly patterned rug on the floor was from a market in Turkey, and the photographs on the wall had been taken by Robin’s friends and colleagues, not with an eye for artistic representation, but as a way to remember beloved moments with beloved friends. Plants hovered near the windows, mostly succulents that needed little water, allowing for Robin’s long absences. In one corner of the room a small table adorned with carefully arranged mini-statues, candles, a Tibetan singing bowl, and an incense holder acted as Robin’s alter. A meditation cushion sat on the floor in front ofit.
“Tea?” Robinasked.
“Soundsperfect.”
“Chai?”
“Yes, please.” Robin brought chai back from India, and it was unlike anything that Nina had found in New York City’smarkets.
“Have a seat, make yourself at home,” Robin said as she moved around the tiny kitchen that adjoined the combination living andbedroom.
Nina sank into the overstuffed sofa and breathed in the residual scent of Robin’s incense with a sigh. Her apartment always felt like an oasis of peace in the city. Nina could look around and imagine herself in Morocco or Kerala orTibet.
“I always want to take up meditation when I come here,” Nina said. “Give up sex, become avegetarian.”
Robin laughed. “You could. All except for the giving up sex part. That wouldsuck.”
“That does suck,” Ninacorrected.
Robin’s eyes twinkled as she made a face of sympathy. “Didn’t you go out with Liam lastweekend?”
“That Idid.”
“And?”
“Incrediblyfrustrating.”
Robin set two cups down on the coffee table crafted of rough-hewn wood. “I’m sure he would haveobliged.”
