“Almost got hit by a bus!” someone shouted.
“Going to the dentist.”
“A porcupine in a tree!” I called.
The woman on stage smiled. “A porcupine in a tree.”
The performers were skilled. They were wild. They were loose and funny. They did long-form sets and playful sets and an improv I’d never seen before based around casting a magical spell on the characters to transform them from genre to genre, so that they had to continue the scene they’d started as a romantic comedy, and then as an action film, and then a Wes Anderson movie. I immediately wanted to try the improv with Paul and Lisette.
The performers were great. What they weren’t, I realized, was any better than my friends in St. John’s. I had not been wrong in my first impression. The Newfingers had been really, really good.
Afterwards, I decided to approach the young woman who seemed to be organizing the event. She was chatting with an earnest-looking young man, but she smiled when I stepped forward.
“Hey, so, how does someone join one of these groups?” I asked.
“Yeah, you should definitely try out!” she said. She seemed nice and warm, her dark eyes twinkling beneath her purple hair. “Just be aware that we don’t let people audition for a group without at least a year of classes.”
“That makes sense,” I said. I briefly wanted to pout and leave, but instead I said, “Sure,” and the young woman handed me a sheet of paper with a QR code on it.
Maybe I would sign up for a class.
As soon as I was outside the theater, I wrote a text to Paul.
Hey,I said.I went to an improv show here and they were great, but the Newfingers were even better, and I wanted to tellyou that. The whole time I was watching I felt so grateful for all the times you let me into your group when I didn’t really have any right to be there, just to play. And I think improv helped me be more brave, and I think I may try it again back in NY. But more than that, I’m grateful for all the times you took me hiking and showed me how beautiful the world is and made me feel like I was worth spending time with. And I wish things had worked out differently or that I knew how to make things work. But you deserve the best of everything. And you made me a better, braver person just by knowing you. And I wanted you to know that I love you, and I’m grateful that I know you. Whatever happens next.
I took a breath and sent it.
Then I watched as the ellipses of his response hovered for a long time. Then, nothing.
My heart hurt, but I couldn’t be sad that I’d sent it. Sometimes, you were brave just for yourself, not because you were going to get any response at all.
15
“YOU CAN BREAK ME, TOO”
Much later that night,after I got home from the improv show, Laura got a call from Nick. She had delayed her trip to go back to Atlanta, and I wondered if there was something they were still deciding. Maybe they would reconcile after all.
I offered to step out of the apartment to give her privacy, but she shook her head and just stepped into the bathroom to close the door. It was right next to my bedroom, so I could hear snippets. Things like, “You’ll always be her father…” and “That’s why I moved down there. That’s literally why I moved there.”
Eventually I felt guilty for listening and went outside for a walk. I walked to the corner bodega and wandered the brightly lit rows of sodas and overpriced snacks, browsing to kill time. It’s rare that I’m sad Laura doesn’t drink, but this was one of those times; it felt like bringing her back a bottle of wine would have been a nice gesture, considering how stressful the phone call must be. Instead, I picked up some La Croix seltzer in a mixed six-pack of flavors. Creating mixed six-packs is one of the minor acts of genius of the New York bodega shops. They take six-packs of beer or soda that already exist and blend and sell them, probably with questionable legality, but giving theircustomers options. It’s one of the little pleasures of urban life that is hard to explain to outsiders.
Laura was still on the phone when I got back, so I stood in the kitchen listening to the murmur of conversation until I heard the bathroom door open and heard her broken voice saying, “Okay. I’ve got to go, okay?”
A moment later she joined me in my tiny kitchen. I could tell she’d been crying. I offered her a range of sparkling waters, and she picked one and cracked it open without meeting my gaze. She just looked at the can for a long moment. Neither of us had to say anything.
“You know what’s stupid?” she said. “I actually thought he would show up here and try to win me back.”
“He probably will, in a few months, once he realizes he messed up.”
She took me in her arms and hugged me.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too.” I was really glad I was there for her. Coming home hadn’t been a mistake.
The doorbell rang and we glanced at each other. “Did you order takeout?” she asked.
I shook my head and walked quickly to the buzzer.
