Lee called her brother, Cord, to fill him in. He didn’t answer, and Lee didn’t leave a voicemail.
Lee had to stop being heartbroken every time Cord showed himself to be who he now was. Sure, he had once been the bright light of Lee’s life—kind, earnest, devoted to his mom and sisters. It wasn’t that Lee couldn’t live without him—it was that it had never occurred to her she would have to. He’d been the glue who had held the Perkins family members together, and now he was not. They were on their own.
Still, she might try to call her little brother again tomorrow.
She missed his voice. She just did.
18
Cord
On their “Day We Fellin Love”-versary (according to Giovanni, who had the time to record such things), Cord and Giovanni went to Panna II, the only restaurant left in what was once called Little India, on New York’s Lower East Side. Where there had been four windows filled with flashing holiday lights, now there was Panna II surrounded by three dark and empty storefronts—another casualty of the pandemic.
“May our holiday lights continue to burn bright,” said Giovanni, squeezing Cord’s knee under the bright red tablecloth.
“I’m going to have a seizure,” said Cord. Had the strings of multicolored bulbs always flashed erratically? Had they always hung so low? Many were burned-out, which seemed like a clear fire hazard and an even clearer metaphor. “I’ve never been here sober,” Cord mused. “Honestly, I’m not sure Iwantto be here sober.”
“Cord…it’s been ten years since we got engaged,” began Giovanni, before he was interrupted by a little boy—he must have been twelve. The kid wore a shiny three-piece suit and skinny tie.
“Welcome to Panna II, where Christmas happens all yearlong!” he said in a practiced manner. “Can I interest you in mango lassis or have you brought your own wine?”
“I’ll have Perrier in a glass,” said Cord. He was pretending to be sober when outside their apartment.
“Same here,” said Giovanni with a sigh.
“As a gentle reminder, we only accept cash dollars,” said the boy. “An ATM machine is conveniently located in our basement.” He gestured grandly toward a foreboding, half-open doorway.
“Oh God, that sketchy ATM,” muttered Giovanni, when the kid was gone.
“I remember,” said Cord.
“Did we have sex down there?” said Giovanni.
“I believe we did,” said Cord. “Ah, the glory days.”
“Yeah,” said Giovanni. He took Cord’s hands in his own. “But this is better.”
“Is it?” said Cord. As soon as he’d strung together a year of sobriety, the pandemic had hit. Trapped at home, alone with each other, both Cord and Giovanni had agreed that a little wine would be OK. They began splitting a bottle a night, then two. Eventually, those fever-dream days of sourdough starters and banging pots outside their Upper West Side window ended, but New York—and Cord and Gio—emerged diminished, collectively sad. How had banging the pots helped the hospital workers, again? Cord’s memory of those days was hazy.
Now, Cord was overwhelmed by work—as soon as 3rd Eyez had been bought for a fortune, everyone wanted Cord’s firm, NYC Ventures, on their roster. But he didn’t want to fund tech overlords anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. His latest venture, Sweethearts, was about to go public. Sweethearts used artificial intelligence to make customized chatbot spouses. (“Like the movieHer,” the college-dropout founders had told him. “But this time, we put a ring on it!”)
At Panna II, Cord’s phone kept buzzing and dinging as they ordered a mixed appetizer (papadum, piazi, samosa, and banana fritter); butter chicken; lamb vindaloo; naan stuffed with cheese; naan stuffed with potato; and naan stuffed with garlic. “Should we also get the one stuffed with ‘fruit and nut’?” asked Gio.
“Are you carbo-loading for a 10K?” asked Cord. “Jesus.”
“We’ll take that one too,” said Gio.
“Wonderful, sir,” said the boy, closing his waiter pad with a flourish. “I will return with your Perrier,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Cord. The kid removed his suit jacket, left the restaurant, ran across the street to a liquor store, and returned with a large bottle of Perrier, which he handed to a man behind the bar. The man poured sparkling water into two wineglasses and added lime wedges, and the boy put his jacket back on and delivered their drinks.
Ding! A text from Cord’s business partner and college roommate, Jacobey:
SOS
Sweethearts team spinning out
Call me ASAP
