Russell Banks - Outer Banks

— I get by.

— We’re quite a pair, Egress laughed, aren’t we? It’s a damned good thing nobody’s counting on us to play big historical roles, to lead his revolution or put one down.

Naomi Ruth responded with a chuckle. Egress, leaning forward in the seat, called to the driver and instructed him to stop at the next corner, in front of the American Express office. Then, to Naomi Ruth, he said, — Well, I’ll leave you here. It’s been kind of you to share your ride with a walking-man, a member of the walking class, heh-heh. Seriously, though, thanks for the lift. I might’ve had to stand there for hours before convincing a cab to stop. The hansom cab stopped in front of the American Express office. — Well, here we are! Good old American Express, eh? By the way, if you’re going to be here in the city for a few days, maybe we can get together for lunch…?

— No.

— Right, right. ’Bye, then.

—’Bye.

Exit Egress cheerily. Naomi Ruth signaled for the driver to go on. Exit hansom cab.

6.

(AT THE PLAZA)

— Ah, you breakfast at the Green Tulip Room? I didn’t realize…

— Well, yes, I’ve been coming here on Sundays for several months, all winter, in fact. It’s a bit ornate, but quiet, peaceful, and of course there is the food, and the service…

— Yes, the Plaza…

— What about you, is this your first time, I mean, for breakfast?

— No, not really. I mean, not that I haven’t dined here before, as you must remember… We stopped here many times together, for lunch, remember? Never on Sundays, though. Oh, will you listen to me, making jokes like that! It’s so difficult, though, when you reach a certain age, I guess, to avoid references either to the past or to the popular culture … so difficult just to be personal and immediate. I’m sorry about that.

— You think it’s age ? That we’ve gotten so old, or so tired, that now our lives are either in the past or “public”…? I wish I believed that. I’d give up fighting it, if I thought it was an impossible fight to win. I’d let myself go, either into the past or into the public life, you know, that fantasy of one’s life as a movie, or a TV series, or maybe a Time magazine cover story…

— Which appeals to you more?

— I don’t know, to be honest about it. Today, seeing you, here, on an early spring morning, with all this hushed, tasteful luxury around us, I think I prefer the past. But any other time, when the associations aren’t so strong and aren’t especially pleasant anyhow, well, then I prefer the other.

— But never this, this life now, here, the real one…?

— No, I suppose not. But I can’t imagine it any different from the way it is — I can only fantasy a different life, my old life, with you, or as someone else altogether, someone created by the public, as a kind of community effort, you know…? That’s how bitter I am.

(Both Egress and Naomi Ruth break into nervous laughter.)

— Well, I don’t suppose we should have breakfast together, do you? The pain…

— We might be seen by a columnist, you know. The Green Tulip Room is not exactly your cozy, little, out-of-the-way café. We don’t need any more gossip than we’ve already endured, do we, now? As it is, by the time you get back to your apartment, or wherever you’re living now, you’ll flip on the radio or TV, only to hear that Egress and Naomi Ruth “accidentally” met in the lobby of the Plaza outside the Green Tulip Room, spoke quietly together for a few moments, and then went their separate ways, etc. Where are you living now, incidentally? In the city?

— Yes. As a matter of fact, I’ve been staying right here at the Plaza — all winter.

— Amazing.

— Yes.

— Yes, well, good-bye, now… It’s been … odd.

— Hasn’t it! But pleasant, too. We’ll have to do it again, sometime…

— Yes. Well, good-bye.

— Good-bye.

— Good-bye.

— Yes. ’Bye.

—’Bye.

— So long.

— Ciao.

— Ciao.

— Tra.

— La.

7.

(AT THE PARTY)

They spotted each other at the same instant on opposite sides of the crowded, smoke-draped room and made their respective ways through the crowd, holding their cocktail glasses over their heads so as not to spill, excusing themselves with careful graciousness as they stepped on toes, crunched corsages, bumped breasts, kicked canes, until they finally were together, breathless, in the center of the room, light peck on the cheek, sip from the drink as eyes appraise each other’s bodies, faces, clothes, cigarettes lit, puffing, smiling nod to acquaintance nearby, appreciative and only slightly critical analysis of the posh apartment’s décor, and, at last,

— Well, I didn’t expect to run into you here! Naomi Ruth said in a hard but gay voice.

— And I didn’t expect to run into you here ! Egress countered.

— Jesus, Egress, we can’t seem to say anything new to one another, can we?

— Not at this level, m’love. There’s lots we could say if we weren’t so obsessively intent on discussing our failed marriage every time we happened to meet.

— I know, she said sadly.

— Too bad we can’t fuck, he said. — By God, then we’d have something new to talk about!

— Yes.

— I know.

— Yes.

— Um. Well, it’s been “real,” as they say…

— Yes. Did you come alone? she asked him.

— Oh, no, no, no. No, I came with a “friend.”

— Yes, she said, believing him. — The dancer. The young Russian girl. I remember.

— You alone? he queried idly.

— No, no. No, I’m not. Well, good-bye, Egress, she said hurriedly, and started to pull away from the center of the room.

— Good-bye! he called after her.

A friend, a man obviously attracted to Naomi Ruth’s not inconsiderable beauty, happened to be standing just behind Egress, and, recognizing his bluff voice, punched him affectionately on the shoulder, and said to him, — Hey, ol’ buddy, who’s that fine-looking woman you were just propositioning?

— Oh, that’s just … that’s my ex-wife.

— You sound regretful, ol’ buddy.

— Naw. Not regretful. The wages of sin, you know. Wistful, though … and something else. But not regretful.

8.

(AT THE CASINO)

— Stay close, m’love. I started winning the second you entered the room, and I’ll have to quit if you leave.

— Do you think there are some sort of house rules against…?

— Against what? Luck?

— I thought it was slightly more than that, luck. I mean, the way you carried on…

— Well, it is more than luck, of course, but we don’t want them to know it, because, yes, there is a house rule against magic, another against divine intervention, a third against astral projection, and so on. Your usual house rules.

— Which one are we breaking, confidentially? Whisper it.

He whispered into her diamond-encrusted ear. She shuddered down into her furs. He turned back to the table and continued winning.

It was quite a night, for both of them. They had such a good time together that on several occasions, half a dozen, at least, the pain brought one or the other of them to his knees. They were almost relieved when it was over and they could go back to their respective hotels along the Strip.

9.

(AT THE BANK)

— Making a deposit or withdrawal? she asked him.

— Oh! I almost didn’t recognize you in that business suit. A withdrawal, as it happens. What about you?

— Deposit.

— Neat, he said appreciatively.

— What?