Heart of the City by Ariel Sabar Read Free Book Online Page B

a wife.
    “I wanted to die. I didn’t do that right, either.”
    “I thank God you didn’t, Joey, or else this would have been a pretty lonely dinner,” Willis said, trying in vain to make her laugh. The skin around her eyes, he saw, was so pale that he could make out the blue veins underneath.
    “I was two weeks in the hospital,” she said. “You know how many times my mom and my sisters visited?”
    Willis shook his head.
    “Not once.” The day the hospital discharged her, she said, she took a train to New York, hoping to find a job that would let her live on her own.

    The more she spoke, the more Willis found himself drawn in by her helplessness. He was miles from Victoria, but he had seen the same broken look on the faces of sharecroppers back home, the ones beaten down by hurricanes and hard times. Something about her—he wasn’t sure what—reminded him of the feral cats he’d taken to pouring bowls of milk for on the farm. Maybe it was a product of being a big brother to so many sisters, but he’d always been drawn to helpless things. And because of his height and sympathetic face, it seemed, they’d been drawn to him.
    The waitress set down two tin cups of vanilla ice cream. Joey pecked at hers joylessly, then set down her spoon. “I won’t fail next time,” she said darkly. “I won’t.”
    “Joey, please listen to me,” Willis said. “I know troubles. My mom and pop are farmers, and dirt poor to boot. We got through the Depression by the skin of our teeth and because weak folks leaned on stronger ones until they could stand again on their own. It’s only right that you let me help you.”
    “The food,” she said, waving at the empty plate. “You already have. I don’t need anything else.”
    “Let me give you some money for a room,” he said. “The streets are no place for a pretty thing like you.”
    Fear clouded her face. “No,” she said, shaking her head and pushing back her chair suddenly. “No.”
    “Oh, golly, Joey, it’s nothing like that,” he said, excoriating himself for his choice of words. He reached into his pocket and pulled out ten dollars. “Take it and leave. I’ll stay in this booth. There’s a cup of uneaten ice cream to keep me company for at least another half hour. Don’t tell me where you’re going. Just go somewhere safe.”
    “No,” she said. “No, no. Thank you—it’s swell. No.”
    He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the streaking headlights of passing cars. “All right,” he said, patting the table with a note of finality. “Then I’ll stay up with you. We can walk the streets together. All night if we have to.”

    Pushing a loose curl behind her ear, Joey gave a half smile and choked back a laugh. “You’re loony, you know that? You’ve got rocks in your head.”

    ON THE sidewalk outside, the throngs of businessmen were thinning and the shopkeepers were locking up for the night. The air felt warmer, and, looking up, Joey could see that clouds were parting, and there were stars. The sailor and the runaway walked together under the streetlights on Fifth Avenue, stopping in front of the closed shops and admiring the mannequins in high-stepping clothes.
    “If only I were rich,” Joey said, shaking her head at the mink stole in one window.
    “Just make believe is what I do.”
    She gave him a quizzical look.
    “Follow along,” he said, stopping in front of the windows of a fancy dress shop. “Here! See that gown? I’ve just bought it for you. Why, the looks you’ll get at the ball tonight! The dress is just as yellow as your hair and just as pretty.”
    Joey tittered.
    “And this fur, and those shoes,” he said, stopping at the next store window and turning to an imaginary sales clerk. “Wrap them in tissue, and add it to my account.”
    At the haberdashery down the street, Joey joined the charade.
    “Now, what do you think of this suit, Admiral Bill?” she asked.
    “Aces.”
    “And that tie, in the