Amelia slipped beneath the sheets just as Perry finished the refolding. He held up the last two socks. There was still one gold toe and one white. He sighed.
The next day he didn’t get to speak with Jake as hoped for. Thanks to MTA work, his train was behind schedule, and by the time he arrived he was late for a meeting. The day continued as such, andby the end of it he climbed back onto the train and loosened his tie. Just outside the windows, on the dim platform, Perry saw a flash of color. A woman in a bright yellow dress. Like a buttercup, Perry thought.
Her back was turned, but Perry noted her elegant carriage, briefly, before another passenger slid past him and into the window seat. The passenger blocked his view, and the pretty woman standing on the track disappeared.
The whole ride home Perry could almost feel the exhaustion radiating through the car along with the smell of the fumes. It was always like this on the way home, a sharp juxtaposition to the morning train, where voices were crisp, postures erect, and phones dinging the entire ride in. Now, as the train bell chimed and the doors slid closed, Perry allowed his eyes to do the same. The train hurtled toward Connecticut, the only sound the hum of cable on track and whispers around him. Except for the soft voice of a child, a few seats behind him on the opposite side of the aisle.
Perry tried to tune the child’s banter out, to let his thoughts wander. He was reminded of when Emma would sit beside him on the train on the occasions he brought her to the city for a day. When was the last time they’d done that? Perry had taken her to seeWicked, and they’d gone out to dinner at Keens Steakhouse afterward, lingering over Bananas Foster, but that was at least a year ago. Maybe two. He deflated. In two more, she’d be out of the house and off to college.
The little girl behind him was still talking, her small voice rising and falling animatedly. Curious, Perry peered over his shoulder. The child’s mother was the woman in the yellow dress. He could not see their faces, only the curve of the mother’s neck as she bent toward her child to listen. At that moment, the child leaned forward and peeked around her mother. Perry foundhimself looking back at a familiar little face. Immediately she stopped talking. It was Luci.
Olivia turned, her face lighting with surprise. “Perry?”
Perry jerked to attention. “Well. Hello.” He’d never heard the child speak before, and felt thrown off. But Olivia played it down.
“You’re on your way home?” she asked.
Perry nodded, careful not to stare at Luci, who was now leaning against her mother shyly. “Yes, heading home from work. What brought you girls to the city today?”
“We went to see my father, Luci’sgrand-père.” She glanced at her daughter. “Isn’t that right?”
Luci stared back at Perry.
“Well, that’s wonderful.” Perry didn’t know what to say. Here was Luci, who only moments before had been chattering away, right in front of him. And the lovely woman in the buttercup-yellow dress—it was Olivia. He felt himself flush.
“Are you all right?” Olivia asked.
Perry cleared his throat, and coughed. “Yes, just warm.”
Olivia reached into her purse. “Would you like a drink?” She held out a bottle of water.
Perry coughed again. He had not needed a drink, but suddenly his throat had turned to sand. He could feel the heat rise up around his collar, and indeed into his cheeks. What was happening?
“Here, please.” Olivia thrust the water bottle in his direction and he took it, aware that others were glancing their way. Perry took a deep swallow, then another. The cold rush of water revived him.
“Better?” Olivia nodded encouragingly. Perry felt like an idiot; he did not need to be mothered. And yet he was grateful.
“Yes, thank you.” He looked at the half-drunk bottle of water in his hand, suddenly unsure of what to do. He couldn’t exactly return it to her, having used it. Could he?
“Keep it,” Olivia said, as if reading his mind.
The train stopped, and thankfully they were interrupted by passengers disembarking. Olivia returned her attention to her book. Luci, however, kept her eyes trained on Perry; he could feel the weight of her stare. When he looked back, their eyes locked. And then something happened. She smiled.
A signal chimed and the doors slid closed. The announcer came over the speaker: “Next stop, Mount Kisco.” Passengers rose, again blocking his view of Luci and Olivia. But when they cleared, there was Luci, still staring.
When the seat across from them vacated, Olivia turned to him. “Care to join us?”
Perry cleared his throat again. He glanced at Luci, then Olivia. Then back at the empty seats. He hated sitting on a freshly vacated seat. They always held the body warmth of the previous sitter. It was so unhygienic, so intimate. Perry cringed.
Olivia, however, pet the seat as if he were her dog. “Come. Chat.”
Perry wasn’t sure if it was the cool recesses of her large brown eyes. Or the peculiar smile he was certain her child had offered him. Or the liquid-yellow folds of her dress. But he found himself rising from his perfectly good seat, crossing the aisle, and sitting down across from the two of them. The vinyl cushion was indeed still warm. But Perry did not flinch. He turned to Luci. “So. How was your visit to see your grandpa?”
That night as he sat in bed, waiting again for Amelia to join him, he did not think about socks that might need re-sorting. Or about his myriad concerns over Jake. Or the Super Bowl halftime contract that was sitting in his briefcase downstairs, unfinished. Overcome by a wash of exhaustion, Perry closed his eyes. The color that flickered behind his lids was buttercup yellow.
Emma
This summer was turning out to be like every other summer. That was the problem.
