Heterochromia

'Can we get a table? My feet don't quite reach the footrest. My butt is starting to hurt.'

I motioned to Wally and pointed at Ms. Romano and myself, then to the dining room, indicating we wanted a table. He nodded and spoke to a waitress.

Paula's mood brightened over dinner. Before I knew it, we were enjoying ourselves and becoming friendly acquaintances. By the time our meal was finished, we'd almost forgotten about the day's unpleasantness. It was just after seven when we got our credit cards back from our server.

I started to say goodbye when we got to the street, but Paula looked like she had something on her mind.

'I've got Rangers tickets that my former boss gave me a couple weeks ago. My girlfriend was supposed to go with me, but she blew me off,' Paula said. 'Something about a sick grandmother. That's her code for I've got a date and I'd rather get laid than watch the Penguins humiliate the Rangers,' she added with a grin. 'Want to go with me? I'd hate to waste them. I won't go by myself.'

Paula was a blast at the game. I knew hockey was played on ice and that the players used sticks to smack a little black disk around, trying to get it into a net. That's about it. She knew all the players on both team and appeared to know the game like I know baseball. I didn't grasp offsides or icing until she explained them. She was as loud as any of the other fans. And fearless. Our seats were right behind the glass. I nearly hit the floor when a puck struck the glass right in front of us. It was as loud as the crack of a baseball bat though it made a dull thud rather than a crack. Paula didn't even flinch. The Rangers scored first but their celebration was short-lived. The Penguins won a blow-out, six-one.

After the game, we shared a cab. Her apartment was four blocks away from mine. She told me she'd call, then said good night. I made the driver wait until she was inside before pulling away.

Monday morning I got to work early for a meeting. When I returned to my office, Jeannie handed me a message. 'Something you want to tell me about?' she asked as I looked at it.

It was from Paula. 'Thanks for keeping me company. I had a good weekend because I had a good time Friday night. I'll be in touch.' I smiled at Jeannie. 'Nothing to tell.'

'Yeah, right,' she said, then launched into her usual morning monologue about my schedule for the day.

I didn't hear from Paula for a few weeks. Jeannie already had her coat on, ready to leave, when her phone rang. She shot me an exasperated look as she picked it up and said, 'Josh Smithy's office.' After a moment she said, 'Hang on,' punched the hold button and put the receiver down. 'It's for you,' she said as she picked up her purse and headed out.

'Who is it?' I hollered before she got away. It was Friday. I didn't want to get caught up in anything before the weekend, either.

'Just take the call,' she said just before she disappeared around the corner.

'Josh Smithy,' I said when I picked it up.

'Hi Josh Smithy! Can I interest you in a dinner and a drink?' Paula asked. It sounded like she was smiling.

'Sure. Where?' I asked.

'Same as last time. I don't have Rangers tickets tonight, though. They're on the road,' she responded with a laugh.

'An hour?' I asked

'I'll be waiting.'

She was sitting in the same spot. It was later this time and the place was crowded. There were no open seats at the bar. I was still wearing my usual work uniform. Suit and tie, though the tie was loose now. She was in civvies. Damn nice civvies. Most of the afterwork crowd was dressed like me. Men and women alike. Suits everywhere. Most pinstriped. Half of the women wore a pants suit; half wore a skirt. Everyone looked androgynously professional. Paula wore form-fitting denims and an exquisite red silk blouse that provided the only bright color in a sea of pinstriped black, charcoal gray, and navy.

Paula fended off two men and a woman looking to keep her company while I waited to check my overcoat. I didn't know any of them but all three had common characteristics. And responses. They were dressed like everyone else. All three did a doubletake and blinked when they made eye contact with Paula.

Just as I reached the bar, four people got off bar stools and went into the dining room. I managed to grab the chair next to Paula, getting a couple of dirty looks.

'How are you doing, Paula?' I asked before she knew I was next to her. I was impressed to see she already had a beer waiting for me. Still cold.

'Surprisingly well,' she answered. 'I've been on several interviews in the last few weeks. I've got two second interviews next week. There have been questions about my sudden departure from MechLinx, but I've answered them without damaging my reputation. They're lawyers. They understand there are things I can't discuss. I told them I got fired because I wouldn't do something unethical and that I couldn't be specific. And that any answers they needed would eventually be provided in the business media.'

I saw she had a self-satisfied grin when she finished. 'There's more, isn't there?' I asked.

'Yeah, I guess there is. I'm officially Paula Czeska again. Now that I'm not working, I had time to follow through with the name change. Plus, my lawyer has been threatening MechLinx with a wrongful termination suit. I hear through my contacts the board is already talking settlement.'

'I thought you'd be okay,' I told her. 'But it never feels good to get canned.'

'I think Palley is going to be toast soon. Along with a couple other people, maybe even the CEO. One of my former colleagues told me an internal investigation is pointing in both their directions. Palley has no clue. He's so arrogant he thinks no one is smart enough to get him.'

The last thing I was I wanted to talk about was Palley. 'So, do you want to eat here? Someplace else?' I asked.

She looked me up and down. 'Here would be fine. But there's no way I'm dining with a guy in a shabby, wrinkled suit he's probably worn all week while I'm all done up for a night out. What do you suggest we do about it?' she asked.

'I live near you. How about we both go uptown. I'll change and meet you outside your building?' I asked.

'I don't have to go home for anything. Why don't I just go to your place? I'll wait for you to get ready to go out. That is after you pour a glass of wine for me.' she suggested cheerfully.

'Only if you promise to behave,' I joked.

'I'll try. But it won't be a struggle. It's not like you're irresistible,' she said.

She looked serious. My joke had fallen flat. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest . . .'

She grinned when she saw I got flustered. 'Relax. I can take a joke. And I don't bite.' She hesitated a moment, 'Unless encouraged,' she added, the grin gone.

I smiled at her. 'I'm going to have to be careful with you,' I teased. 'Shall we go?'

'Sure, let's go. I've already paid,' she said, then added, 'You're wise to be careful. I may not bite without being prompted, but you never know what else I might do.'

I grinned inwardly, took a last draw on my brew and got up. Our empty chairs were claimed almost before we were out of them. We both got our coats and went outside. It was cold but there was no wind on the cross street. The cold felt crisp and refreshing rather than biting. The sidewalk was crowded. At least a dozen people were standing at the curb to hail a cab. Paula took my arm and pulled me gently to the left. We walked to the subway entrance at the end of the block.

It was just a short walk to my building. When we turned onto the avenue, the cold was a different matter. The buildings funneled the north wind, turning the avenue into a wind tunnel. Paula held onto my arm until we turned onto my street and were inside my building.

Once inside my apartment, I fetched a bottle of wine and poured a glass for Paula before retiring to my bedroom to change. After brushing my teeth and a quick shower, I changed into jeans, a colored tee shirt and a Smith Clan plaid flannel shirt. I wasn't sure what Paula had in mind for the night so I dug out a pair of walking shoes and heavy socks that would work for anything we did.

Paula was looking out my sixth-floor window at the building across the street. Central Park was a couple blocks west but couldn't be seen from my apartment. I grabbed the wine and a glass for myself. I refilled hers and poured a glass for myself.

'What do want to eat? Any ideas what you want to do after dinner?' I asked.

'I was thinking a movie,' she said. 'Can we catch a late show after eating?'

I hadn't been to a movie in ages. Probably not since college when it was about all I could afford when I went on a date. 'Sure, we could do that. What do you want to eat?'

'You pick the meal. I'll pick the movie,' she said with a grin.

What the hell, I thought. 'I know a good Moroccan place not far from here. That okay?'

Paula drained her glass and reached for her coat, draped over a chair near the window. 'Let's go. I'm hungry.'

The food at Marrakesh Bizarre (yeah, the owner named it Bizarre, not Bazaar) was good, as always. Paula didn't want to see any of the current crop of movies. We ended up at an old theater that ran classic film. That night it was a Humphrey Bogart double feature,Casablanca andTo Have and Have Not. The evening was sponsored by NYU's Film School and included a brief introduction and commentary on each film by a film student. We caught the second movie,To Have and Have Not. Though Bogie was the focus, the focus of the introduction was his future wife, the sultry and seductive Lauren Bacall. Paula spent the movie holding my arm and leaning against me.

We caught a cab back to her building. She held my hand and pulled, encouraging me to get out of the cab with her. I let go long enough to pay the cabbie, pleased she was inviting me up for a drink. Instead, she held my arm until we got to the door.

When we got to her building entrance, she pushed up against me and hugged me tightly for a moment. Then stood on her toes and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Then she stepped back and said 'The cell number on the card I gave you is still good. Call me. Goodnight, Josh.'

I watched in amazement as she turned away, went into the foyer. She waved her purse past the scanner, opened the door, and disappeared. I wasn't amazed because I wasn't invited up. Or that all I got was a hug and a friendly peck. I was amazed by how I felt as I watched her go inside and disappear into her building's interior. I felt exactly like I did the night Connie Perkins kissed me on her front steps after the first date I ever went on. A delightful and innocent goodnight kiss that said, 'I had a good time. I like you.' I wasn't the least bit disappointed at being left on Connie's front steps that night after one friendly peck. And wasn't disappointed this night, either. No, if anything, I felt triumphant. Like I had when Connie said goodnight.

I stood there paralyzed by the odd sensations. I wasn't aroused. There was no uncomfortable erection to adjust. I felt like I was fourteen again. Thrilled beyond belief because a pretty girl had kissed me goodnight. And wanted me to call her. A couple going into the building stared at me for a moment as I stood there. I came back to reality when it started to snow.

Once I gathered my wits again, I walked home. There wasn't much traffic at this time of day in this residential section of Manhattan just east of Central Park. The wind had died down. The falling snow began to accumulate as I walked. The city sounds were muffled. It was almost silent. My neighborhood was usually quiet in the late evening. It seemed downright peaceful when it was snowing. I walked west toward the park and turned south on the avenue for three more blocks, crossing to the south side before turning west again for half a block. I slept peacefully that night.

I was up at six the next morning. I looked out my window, down to the street. The snow was gone. It hadn't amounted to anything, as was often the case during November in New York City. I loaded my coffee maker and set the timer. I pulled on my running gear and went out for my morning run through Central Park.

After my run, I stopped and grabbed a breakfast sandwich to eat when I got home. The coffee wasn't quite done when I got to my apartment, but I had planned to shower before breakfast. After I got out of the shower, I had an overpowering desire to send Paula a text. The urge was so strong I sent it before I got dressed. My phone beeped a few minutes later. Her answer to 'Are you up yet?' was 'Yep. Already out the door and on my way to the subway.' I called her.

'Hi, Josh. Up and at it early? You have to work?' she asked. She was on the street, walking at a brisk pace.

'No. Just got back from my run a few minutes ago. Felt an irresistible need to send you a text,' I responded.

'Oh? Why's that?' she asked.

'Just an impulse. Maybe I shouldn't have,' I said teasingly.

'You have to figure that out for yourself. I can't know what's right for you. I can only know the right thing for me.'

She wasn't going to make it easy. I felt a thrill just being on the phone with her. 'You going somewhere? Or will you be around today?'

'I'm on my way to Grand Central. I'm going to Millbrook overnight to see my folks. It's their anniversary. My brothers and sister will be there. Along with my nieces and nephews. I'm back again in the morning. I'm free then. What did you have in mind?'

'Let me see what I can come up with for tomorrow. I'll send a text and let you know. Talk to you tomorrow?' I asked.

'I'll be home mid-morning. I'll call when I get in. Gotta go, I'm at the subway entrance. Bye.' She was gone.

There are always things to do in New York, even on Sunday. I looked at some available options and realized that I lived only a few blocks from the Frick Collection but never visited. I sent a text to Paula giving her a choice between MOMA and the Frick followed by dinner. I got a reply several hours later from a number I didn't recognize.

'Got your message just before I lost cell service. Using my sister's phone. Frick. TTYL. P.'

Paula was home when she called Sunday morning. We decided to meet for a quick bite at a bagel place near her apartment before going to the Frick. She was already nursing a cup of tea at a high-top table when I got there. After shedding my jacket, I grabbed bagels, another black tea for her and my second coffee of the day. She looked good.

Over our late breakfast, she told me about getting together with her family and going out for dinner on Saturday. She asked about my Saturday and I told her about my exciting morning and afternoon paying bills, vacuuming, cleaning out my fridge, grocery shopping. Saturday evening, I got together with a friend for a couple of beers and some appetizers at a sports bar. I was home early and in bed before ten.

The weather was cool with a light breeze on the streets but a blustery wind on the avenues. Paula held my arm as we walked to the Frick. There was quite a bit of difference in our heights. She was about five-five to my six-four. Because of the difference in our heights, I let her set the pace as we walked. It was about the same pace I would have set on my own.

Paula was a supporter of the Frick so there was no cost to visit. She hadn't visited in a while. I let her lead the way through the museum. She told me to pass on the audio tour headset. Paula was quite knowledgeable about the paintings on exhibit. We spent the afternoon at the Frick, leaving just before the museum was closed. I was nearly overwhelmed with information. And amazed at the depth of her knowledge of art.

The wind had died down when we stepped outside, but it had gotten colder. Fortunately, we were dressed for it. We instinctively headed in the general direction of Paula's apartment.

'How is it you know so much about art?' I asked. 'Did you study it in college?'

Paula laughed. 'We couldn't escape it while we were growing up. My parents are both art professors. My mother teaches drawing, painting, and sculpture. My father art history,' she answered. 'There were art books everywhere. And, of course, Mom's studio. All the time we spent at museums drove my brothers and sister crazy. I loved it but not enough to study it. I didn't inherit my mother's talent. Nor did I inherit my father's academic obsession with Medieval and Renaissance art history. Dad does authentication work in addition to teaching, so he travels into the city quite a bit. He took one of us with him whenever he came into New York on a weekend, which was at least once a month. I went more often than my siblings. My brothers only wanted to go if it got them out of something more onerous. I loved it. I'd wander the gallery until he was done. Then he'd come find me and spend an hour or so with me. Sometimes we'd stay for a little while after a museum closed.'

'At the risk of ruining things, if your folks were afraid of Jimmie by the time he was in third grade, how did your Mom manage him when your father wasn't home?' I asked.

'A few months after we moved from New Rochelle, Jimmie beat up a kid from the neighborhood and then beat up the kid's mother when she tried to pull him off. My parents finally gave up on trying to handle him. Not that they had much choice. The other kid's parents filed charges. The police took him into custody. A judge determined that he was uncontrollable and ordered him held without bail. The state decided it was time to get him off the street. He ended up in juvenile detention center after that. It wasn't long before he got transferred to a more secure facility after another violent incident. The older he got, the more violent he got. He got transferred to Ossining when he was eighteen after he nearly killed the psychiatrist counseling him. She was in the hospital for months. My mother was so sick over it she had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized herself. At Ossining, he's continued to be violent, earning himself several additional convictions. We heard he beat another inmate so badly the man's in a persistent vegetative state. He's isolated from the general population and isn't allowed visitors. He's serving several consecutive sentences. The last I heard he's got sixty-plus years to serve with no chance for parole.'

Paula's tone was matter of fact. But I could tell there was an underlying sadness. Who wouldn't be saddened by such a family member's history? I changed the subject. 'Tell me more about Whistler. I understand he spent much of his career in England?'

'He did. He was severely near-sighted, which seems like it would be a real problem for a painter. Did you know he went to West Point? . . . .'

While we walked, Paula told me about James Whistler's years at West Point and how he came to be an ex-patriot. Not surprisingly, he didn't take to the regimentation and routine of Academy life and was often in trouble with authorities there. When she finished, we'd walked to Second Ave. and it was starting to get dark.

'Are you hungry?' I asked. We were near her apartment and I was enjoying her company enough that I wasn't ready for my Sunday afternoon with her to end. I was glad we'd planned to have dinner together.

'I am,' she responded. 'I want a big sloppy cheeseburger, with bacon, and just about anything else you can think of. I know just the place I want to get it. Okay with you?'

'Sure. Lead on.'

We crossed Second Ave. and headed north to a burger place I'd walked past but had never frequented. It was busy but we had no trouble finding seats. Paula got her loaded burger and a mound of fries that would feed a horde. I had eaten bar food the previous night. Too much fat, sugar, and salt. I ordered a Greek salad. Paula scotched my healthy dinner by ordering milkshakes for both of us. It was a damn good shake.