“Silverstein. Sid Silverstein.”
“How alliterative.”
Is he making fun of me? Flirting? Why am I staring at his chest? Why does he have that sexy little trail of hair? And that cute cluster of freckles off to the side of his six-pack that looks like the Milky Way?
Stop it, Sid. You’re an eighty-one-year-old man.
“Are you new to Palm Springs?” I ask. “I haven’t seen you around here.”
“I’m staying with friends,” Leo says. “And looking at houses in the area.” He stops. “Actually, I’m interviewing for a job in the area. Don’t know if I’ll get it, but...”
“What is it you do?”
“I’d rather not say. Don’t want to jinx it.”
He hates me.
And he’s still working. Not even close to using the words IRA or Medicare Part B in every other sentence.
“And you?” Leo asks.
“I was a lawyer.” I stop to correct myself. “Am a lawyer. I still practice.” I stop again. “And Esther already told you that, so I’m just repeating myself now.”
“How long have you lived in Palm Springs?”
“A very long time now,” I say.
Leo looks at me, waiting for more.
Say something else, Sid.
I try to open my mouth, but it’s rusted shut.
For a moment, there is that uncomfortable silence that has always filled me with guilt, made me feel unworthy, wholly transparent. I fidget with the sleeve of my ridiculous workout shirt, which, by the way, Esther said looked good with my hair.
I resemble an aged aubergine.
“You should definitely look in south Palm Springs,” I finally add, my voice tinged with nerves as if I’m speaking into a box fan. “No wind. Twin Palms is centrally located and filled with mid-century beauties. Oh! And there’s The Movie Colony, Old Las Palmas, Deepwell Estates...”
I realize I am babbling, but I cannot stop now. My mouth, like Sophia’s, is a runaway train.
“And make sure to eat at Copley’s or Eight4Nine. Copley’s is a must. It is Cary Grant’s former guesthouse. So romantic. I mean, I don’t know if you’re seeing someone...”
A resounding honk pierces the humidity-free air. In the parking lot, a hand motions.
“I gotta go,” Leo says apologetically. “Jack dropped me off here while he ran errands.”
Of course, there’s a Jack.
“It was nice to meet you, Sid,” Leo continues, extending his hand once more. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“I’m here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Oh, and a seated workout class every Tuesday and Thursday. But I stand for much of the class. I mean, I can stand. You saw me walk!”
Oy vey! I sound like a complete idiot.
Leo takes off jogging, his perfect torso glistening in the sun.
“And wear sunscreen!” I yell. “I think you might have a suspicious mole!”
