Brooklyn Graves by Triss Stein Read Free Book Online

of me and any neighbor who happened to be on the street.
    He just got into his car and backed out so quickly his tires squealed. She went from red and furious to white and collapsing, sitting on her porch steps, head on her knees. I sat down beside her, my hand on her arm.
    â€œNatalya, what is it? How can I help?”
    â€œMy Dima is gone, and this—this—is what I have left of him, this rotten brother.” She wiped tears off her face with a furious movement of both hands.
    She stood up and stumbled her way back to the front door, moving blindly, groping for the doorknob.
    I thought I had better go with her, but she stopped herself at the door, wiped the tears from her face, and tidied her hair.
    â€œThank you for sitting with me, Erica. I am in control of myself now. I send everyone home and Alex and I must have some sleep. My cousin the doctor left us some pills for sleeping without nightmares.”
    â€œNatalya, I am so, so sorry. Can I do anything else for you?” It was dawning on me that though she was surrounded by family, she seemed to be lonely.
    â€œYou know. You know! You understand. If I could just talk from my heart…”
    â€œAny time.”
    She nodded, wearily, looking as if she had already taken a pill.
    â€œI will call you soon, when I am thinking a little clearly. More clearly.”
    She closed her eyes and then snapped them open again. “I will send your kids out now, and everyone else too. We have had enough, Alex and me.”
    She turned back to the house, straightening her back and curling her hands into little fists.
    Just a minute later my passengers came out and got in the car without a word. They looked stunned. This was the only silent ride I’d ever taken with Chris and her talkative friends. Usually they sound like little birds, chattering away.
    The silence was fine with me. My thoughts kept chasing each other around, past and present colliding over good men dead too soon. I thought of the Natalya I had seen tonight when shock and grief had ripped the doors open on the side of her she kept tightly shut. I knew a woman who was witty and adventurous and playful, in love with New York, in love with fashion, passionate about her husband and her child. She kept the doors tightly closed on the dark days in her life.
    When we were back in our own house, Chris hugged me hard, turned and came back for another hug before she went to her room without a word. In the morning she flew out the door, late as usual, and I settled in to work at home. I would call Natalya later, I thought, but now she would be sleeping. I hoped she would be sleeping, blessedly oblivious for many hours. Thank goodness for sleep meds.
    My plan was to do my own work, chain myself to the computer, and make some real progress. Not think about Chris or Dima or Tiffany for a few hours.
    The only flaw was that Tiffany was thinking about me. Not really Tiffany of course, but his fans. My work e-mail had a badly typed, all caps message from Dr. Flint, insisting I return to Green-Wood to collect the information he still needed. He wrote: “IF SIND TODAY, CAN STILL UES. FAX TO HOTL? ASAP” Evidently he did not realize I could send it all digitally. I also noticed there was no “please” anywhere in there.
    Young Ryan was also very definitely thinking about Tiffany. And me. He was contacting me every five minutes with questions that ranged from panic about Flint to background about Tiffany. Maybe it only felt like every five minutes, but it was enough to blow my concentration into confetti. By midday, I gave up. I was going to make myself unavailable.
    I would go back to Green-Wood but I could keep my phone off. With any luck, I told myself, I could calm both Ryan and Flint, the power behind the curtain, by going to see the window we had missed the other day.
    I was glad to have a little time to myself. Today my own memories of my husband came flooding in. It took me by surprise,