Robin Wasserman - Gluttony

Was it more important to be happy? Or to protect himself from being miserable?

It was almost midnight, and he finally knew the answer. He just didn’t know what Harper would do when she heard it.

He had intended to walk to their rendezvous point-the New York-New York hotel, with its neon and plaster skyline, was less than a mile away. But now it was too late for that. So instead he was forced to wait in front of the hotel for the taxi, shifting his weight back and forth, nervously wondering how the night would end.

If he hadn’t been looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of things, he might never have heard the noise, a soft, muffled whimpering, like an injured animal. He almost certainly wouldn’t have gone in search of its source. And so he would never have discovered the girl huddled in the alley, dirty blond hair spilling in a thick curtain around her face, her hands wrapped around her knees. She was rocking back and forth, muttering the same phrase over and over again, until the words blended together into a string of nonsense syllables.

“I did it. I did it. I didit. I didit. IdiditIdiditIdidit…”

He should have recognized the voice, or the hair, or the way her fingers trembled as they clasped her lower legs and pulled them tighter to her chest. But it wasn’t until he put a hand on her shoulder, leaned down, and asked if she was all right that the girl tilted her head up, just a bit, but just enough, for him to understand.

“Oh, my God.” Adam staggered backward with the shock. “Beth? What happened? Are you… okay?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer to the first question. The answer to the second was pointlessly obvious.

“Reed?” she whispered.

“It’s Adam.” The kernel of terror within him began to blossom.

She stared up at him and squinted as if she didn’t recognize him. “What’s going on? What are you what am I you need to go. I did it I did it I did it…”

Her pupils were overdilated, and her whole body was shaking. “Hey. Shhh, calm down.” He put his arms around her and tried to help her stand up. “It’s going to be okay.” But was it? “Come on, let’s get you up.”

She resisted at first, curling tighter into herself, her muscles straining against his touch. Then, suddenly, all the tension flooded out of her, and she sagged in his arms. He stood, and she leaned against him, still conscious but no longer trembling. Her face was streaked with tears. “Is this what it was like for her?” she asked him plaintively, tugging at his collar. “Oh, God, did I do this to her? How could I do this?”

“I don’t understand,” Adam said gently, but she didn’t seem to hear him.

“I did it. I deserve it. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod-” Her voice broke off into a heaving sob, and she buried her head in his shoulder. He stroked her hair and tried not to panic. Should he call 911? Should he find a doctor, get her to a hospital? Or just inside and up to the room? She didn’t seem hurt, but-something was obviously wrong. Seriously wrong.

Upstairs, he decided. Calm her down, figure out what’s happening, and then deal with it.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered, stroking her hair and trying to calm her sobs. He guided her into the lobby and toward the elevator bank, not even noticing the crowd’s curious stares. He didn’t have the mental space to worry about anything now except for Beth, and making sure she was okay.

“Where are we going?” she whispered. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe,” he promised. The room was still empty. He led her inside and sat her down on the bed. She didn’t curl up again, or lie down. She just sat where he’d placed her, still clinging to him. He sat down beside her and gathered her in his arms.

“Don’t hate me,” she begged. “Not you, too. Please.”

“Of course not.” He kissed the top of her head. “I could never hate you.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m sorry for before,” she said. “I shouldn’t have let you say it. I should never have let you. And then I left. You should have left me.”

“Don’t worry.” Adam wasn’t even sure she knew who he was, much less what she was saying. “Don’t apologize.”

“But I’m sorry !” she wailed.

“I forgive you. I do. For everything.”

“I love you, too,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and laying her head against his chest. “I should have said it. I love you, too.”

He didn’t know what to do, so he held her until she stopped crying. And when she did, he still held her, and listened intently to her shallow but even breaths, wishing that he could save her from whatever was tearing her apart.

He didn’t notice the time passing, and when his cell phone rang, again and again, he barely heard it. His world had narrowed to a single point, and a single mission: protecting Beth.

She needed him. And for now, that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t like him to be late.

The balcony atop the fake Empire State Building was nearly empty this time of night, and Harper leaned against the railing looking out over the lights, wondering.

She dialed his number again, but he still didn’t pick up.

Maybe something happened to him, she thought. But she knew nothing had. He had obviously made his decision, and couldn’t even be bothered to tell her to her face. Maybe there’s still a chance, she told herself. It’s possible .

But he was almost an hour late. This was Vegas, a town full of dreamers hoping that their big win would come through despite million-to-one odds. They stayed at the table hour after hour, night after night, waiting for their luck to turn.

Harper was a realist; she knew when to fold.

She just couldn’t bring herself to leave-because giving up would mean admitting that Adam didn’t want her, that he didn’t even think enough of her to explain why. So much for the friendship he refused to lose; so much for the two of them being all that mattered.

The city twinkled below her, and Harper wondered what the view might be like from the real Empire State Building, so much taller than this lame cardboard copy. She’d only seen it in movies, but Kaia, who never tired of reminiscing about her hometown, had once tried to describe it. “You can imagine you’re standing at the edge of the world,” she had said. By day, you would see Central Park in one direction-and here, thanks to Kaia’s descriptions, Harper always imagined an overgrown jungle brimming with out-of-work artists, horny couples, and needle junkies. From the other end, Kaia claimed, you could see across the whole island of Manhattan, down to its narrow tip and beyond. “You can even see Brooklyn, ” Kaia had said in a hushed voice, as if Brooklyn were an exotic foreign land of hidden wonders.

But the view during the day was nothing compared with the view at night, when the city lit up and you could chart the lives of a million people by the flickering and streaming of an infinity of lights.

Standing here in the dark, bracing against the wind and watching the neon flash and shimmer, it was easy to imagine she was thousands of miles away, somewhere real . She thought that if she tried hard enough, she could probably convince herself that Kaia was standing next to her in the darkness.

But Harper was still a realist-and Kaia was still dead.

“He’s not coming,” she said aloud, testing out the sound of the words. She knew she should leave and get on with her night-but that would mean getting on with her life . Without Adam. And she wasn’t ready for that.

“He’s not coming,” she said again, louder.

There was no one there to hear her, and no one to know that she decided not to leave. Not yet. Long ago, Adam had asked her to trust him, and to trust their friendship. She would wait, just a little longer.