by Delia Ephron
I hadn’t properly appreciated the bright welcoming light in this house, but it didn’t matter now. The same sun enlivened our apartment in Manhattan. I couldn’t wait to sit there and be warm while I read the morning paper. No, I wasn’t about to discover charm in Sakonnet Bay on the day I was leaving.
Bernadette rolled up her Sakonnet Times and whacked Sam on the butt as we passed the distraught teenagers on our way out of the house. “God, you’re practically coming right back,” said Bernadette. “Get in the car already.”
Mr. and Mrs. Woffert came out to bid us good-bye, and we swore never to lose touch. Deidre kissed me shyly and Bernadette threw her arms around me and squeezed. “You’re becoming a wonderful reporter,” I told her.
They all lined up at the curb to see us off. As Sam and I pulled out, Deidre sniffled and waved broadly, a wiper on slow speed.
We left Windham Street, its porches and windows strung with Christmas lights. At Main, instead of turning left into town, we drove the other way. Sam opened Deidre’s farewell gift—a black scarf in which she’d wrapped some beach glass, a lock of her pasty blond hair, and a silver ring with the grim face of a skeleton engraved on it. He tried to jam the ring onto his pinkie, with no success.
“We can have it enlarged in the city. You can get anything done in the city,” I reminded him.
“Deidre’s going to love the subway.”
“She will?”
“Franco’s, too.”
“What’s Franco’s?”
“Old CDs, tapes. Second Avenue and Seventh. Wait until she sees Sal.”
“Who’s Sal?”
“The cook at Nick’s Pizzeria. He’s got a tattoo on his forehead.”
“I hope you never do that, Sam.”
“I’m not nuts, Mom. Deidre says sometimes you have to go someplace to find out who you are.”
“Deidre’s very smart.”
“She says that’s why she has to come to the city. She’s meant for it. Do you want to stop for hot dogs?”
“What a great idea.” We were talking with the easy intimacy I’d always wished for. “Let’s hit that stand on Route 23.” I checked the rearview mirror and saw, directly behind us, a swirling red light. “Oh, dear.”
“What?” said Sam.
“The police.”
I moved onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. In the side mirror, I observed the approach of Sergeant Tom McKee.
“Mom, tell him that you worked for the paper. Tell him who you are.”
“He knows who I am.”
“Maybe he won’t—”
“Won’t what?” asked Tom.
“Give us a ticket. What did I do, Officer?”
“You forgot to say good-bye.”
“It wasn’t possible.”
Tom looked around, as if on this raggedy stretch of road outside town there might be something to see. “Nice sunset,” he said.
And so it was, pink and purple fireworks streaking through the evening sky.
Sam scooted low in his seat to get a better view. His ring rolled onto the floor.
“This is my son, Sam,” I said, while he dug around under his seat. “Sam, this is Sergeant McKee.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Tom. He took off his cap and rubbed his arm across his forehead.
“Jane may come to live with us.”
“I heard.”
“After the new year.”
“I’ll be back all the time,” said Sam, popping up after retrieving his ring.
“Not you, though, huh?”
I shook my head.
Tom’s eyes searched mine, looking for the answer to another question.
“I hope we don’t hit traffic. The trip will be so difficult. Unbearable.”
“Forever,” he said.
I moved my hand from the steering wheel to the window ledge and his closed over it.
“Good-bye, Tom.”
“Good-bye, Lily, take care.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.
I watched his retreat in the rearview mirror. He looked back once, and then again.
I will jump out and chase him. I will leave my son and his skeleton ring sitting on the side of the road. I will have the chance to forget who I am and who Tom is, and find out more about him and me than I ever dreamed.
Sam jabbed me. “Let’s go.”
Tom’s patrol car swung a wide U and headed toward town.
“Absolutely, let’s go. What shall we listen to?”
Sam fiddled with the radio till he found a noisy, battering beat. I was going to have sauerkraut on my frankfurter. Yes, the works—sauerkraut, relish, and mustard. I would make a deal with Sam—his station until we eat, then I would get to choose. I resisted the desire to touch my cheek on the sacred spot where Tom had placed his lips. Maybe Car Talk would be on the radio. I love that show.
By the time Car Talk is over, we’ll be winging our way through the suburbs. We’ll salute familiar landmarks, like the sign to Francis Lewis Boulevard. I’ll switch to 1010 WINS for the latest news and traffic.
When I hit the rise to the Triboro Bridge, I know my heart will skip and flutter at the parade of skyscrapers, that dazzle of stone and steel and glass. The music of Manhattan will grow louder and louder until I shudder from the bang and clatter of cars and people, jackhammers, buses, and talk, talk, talk. The whir of city life will welcome me back—the distraction of endless choice, the promise of things familiar. I will get over him there. Won’t I?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to many, many people who shared their knowledge and their world with me. I would like to thank the East Hampton Village Police—all the members of the force who took the time to talk with me. Police Chief Glen Stonemetz and Sergeant Mike Tracey were especially generous, kind, and patient. I could not have written this book without them. My thanks also to Donna Prisendorf of the Berkshire Record and to Bridgett Leroy of the East Hampton Independent. All references to Klingon in this book are taken from the The Klingon Dictionary, an amazing volume, by Marc Okrand. My apologies to Mr. Okrand for a few liberties taken with spelling to aid in pronunciation. To Faith Sale, my deep gratitude, and also to Lorraine Bodger, my thanks and love.
If you enjoyed Big City Eyes, check out these other great Delia Ephron titles.
HANGING UP
Buy the ebook here
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DELIA EPHRON, author and screenwriter, has written books for adults and children; her most recent novel is Hanging Up. She has worked as a writer and producer on the film Hanging Up, as well as on You’ve Got Mail, Michael and Sleepless in Seattle. She lives in New York City.
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
Fiction
Hanging Up
Nonfiction
How to Eat Like a Child
Teenage Romance or, How to Die of Embarrassment
Funny Sauce
Do I Have to Say Hello?
For children
Santa and Alex
My Life (and Nobody Else’s)
The Girl Who Changed the World
COPYRIGHT
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First published in Great Britain by Fourth Estate in 2001
Copyright © South of Pico Productions, Inc. 2000
Delia Ephron asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9781857027686
Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007571635
Version: 2014-01-02
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