“No. I can’t stay in the city another week. I’m ready to go and I want to get out of here. As much as I like you, Phil, I doubt there is anything you can say or do to change my mind about leaving.”
“All right, three days then. Surely you can postpone your departure that long. It’ll take you almost that long to get to Florida by train, so you’re not really losing any time,” Philip said, turning on the hard sell. Priscilla hesitated, just long enough for Philip to go in for the close.
“What do you say? Let us pick you up at Penn Station. I’ll be your personal chauffer, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Out to dinner, or… maybe go bowling,” Philip said, as he got back behind the wheel. “Or we could go have pizza—”
“Pizza!” Caitlin enthusiastically endorsed.
“and beer. Whatever you want.”
“Beer, yuck!” Caitlin said, earning a swipe from her father.
“Shhh,” Philip said, covering the phone with his hand. “Anyway, the point is I think this is a rash decision and I think you need someone to talk it over with before you just pick up and leave your entire life behind.”
Priscilla closed her eyes and counted to ten. She was doomed to a circuitous hell, where she chased herself in circles as she tried to prevent the inevitable. She no more felt like bowling at that particular moment than she felt like hitchhiking all the way to Florida. Nor did she particularly feel like company. All she wanted was to cocoon herself away in her reserved sleeper compartment and chug off into the sunset. But all of that didn’t stop her from caving in to Philip’s pleas.
“Look, you and Caitlin can come and get me and we’ll hang out for while, but I fully intend to get on a train at some point tonight.” She vaguely remembered seeing a departure around 9:00, and cavalierly assumed she could get on it. In any event, she had to leave that evening since she had no place to stay. She had turned her keys over to her landlady, giving her a month’s rent in lieu of a thirty-day notice, which seemed extravagant in retrospect. Now she was officially homeless. It was Florida or bust.
Priscilla’s plan may have been a compromise on her end, but it was the prayed-for reprieve for Philip. He high-fived his daughter, and with his free hand, shifted out of park and assimilated into the flow of traffic.
“We’re on our way. Can you meet us at the main entrance on Seventh? We should be there in a few minutes.”
“All right. I’ll be there,” Priscilla said with heavy heart.
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Priscilla replaced the receiver, the reality of what she had just done slowly sinking in. She felt like a prisoner who spends years tunneling to freedom, only to turn around and walk back through the prison gates. Would there ever come a day when she put her own desires ahead of others’?
“Dad, can I have one of your pepperonis?” Caitlin asked after she had picked off all of her own. Philip extracted all the pieces remaining on his plate and placed them on top of her ravaged slice of pizza.
“But why did you pick Florida, if you’ve never even been there? How do you know you’d like it there? It doesn’t strike me as your kind of place at all,” he said to Priscilla, who was taking methodical sips of her beer.
“It’s warmer there,” she said with a shrug, as if no other explanation was necessary.
“True, but winter’s over now, and you’ve got all of spring, summer and fall to enjoy here. Besides, you’ve been a New Yorker too long to not to miss the changing of the seasons. Sure, Florida has good weather, when it’s not having hurricanes, but all that sunshine would become monotonous after a while,” he said, topping both their beer mugs from the plastic pitcher.
“Spoken like a true city snob,” Priscilla commented, mildly amused by Phil’s anti-Florida campaign.
“And anyway, you’d miss the people. New Yorkers are a special breed. Where else can you find such open honesty? New Yorkers don’t mince their words. I think you’d really miss that.”
“You mean the special brand of rudeness that passes for communication here? I don’t think so. Besides, from what I understand, there is no shortage of former New Yorkers in the Sunshine State,” Priscilla reminded him, as she ate her pizza in the same fashion as Caitlin, one pepperoni at a time.
“It’s not the same thing. The people who move from New York to Florida do so because they’re giving up on life.” Priscilla grunted at this shameful tactic. “No, it’s true—think about it. When they lived here, they were accountants, firemen, schoolteachers, businessmen, doctors, nurses—you name it. But when they move to Florida, all they seem to care about is playing golf and getting melanoma.”
Priscilla smiled, despite herself. “That’s because they’re retired,” she said, defusing his argument.
“That’s my point exactly. Do you really want to hang out with a bunch of retirees?” Priscilla arched her brows but otherwise let that question go unanswered.
“Daddy, can I have some money for a video game?” Caitlin asked. She had abandoned all pretense of eating now and had been practicing dubious tricks with her straw.
“You haven’t eaten all your pizza yet,” Philip said, instantly recognizing the old ploy of dismembering one’s food to make it look insignificant.
“I ate all the good bits.”
“Eat it all,” Philip said.
“I’m too full,” Caitlin claimed, groaning at the sight of her mangled pizza.
“Here, eat this much, then you can go play videos,” he said, dividing the remains of her slice in two. “You know, it’s very unsafe on the streets in Florida—no, I’m serious. All those aging retirees driving about all willy-nilly, barely able to see out of those huge dark glasses they have to wear because of the cataracts caused by all that relentless sunshine.”
Priscilla couldn’t help but laugh. “You told me if I didn’t get on the train tonight, you’d give me solid reasons why I should stay here in New York. So far, all you’ve done is pooh-poohed Florida. If there are really so many pitfalls to living in that state, maybe I should set my sights on California,” Priscilla said. She was teasing him, but by the look of horror on his face, it was evident Phil didn’t get it.
“California? That’s way too far away!” he cried out. “Besides, the whole state is an earthquake waiting to happen.” Priscilla leaned back and wrapped her arms across her chest, fixing Philip with a look that said she was getting tired of this game.
“Done!” Caitlin announced, holding her hand out for her reward.
“Stay where I can see you,” Philip said, taking a five out of his wallet and handing it to her. She pressed a greasy kiss on his cheek and took off like a bullet for the nearest available game.
“What’s wrong with New York? Why would anyone want to leave the most exciting city in the world? Maybe you should start by telling me what’s making you want to leave, and then I can make a specific argument for staying, because honestly, I can’t imagine why you’d want to leave.”
Priscilla unwound her arms slowly, keeping her eyes trained on Philip as she considered her answer. She hardly knew this man, yet he seemed to have no qualms about prying into her private affairs.
“Personal reasons,” she said, taking a swig of her lukewarm beer. Philip fiddled with his mug, waltzing it in a circular motion, a small smile forming on his mouth.
“Personal reasons. I see. Well, if you’re going to leave me to guess, I’ll have to start with the obvious: escaping a failed romance? No? How about to care for an ailing relative? To fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming an aquatic dancer at The Singing Springs Underwater Gardens? Okay, I give up.”
If Philip hadn’t been so surprisingly entertaining, Priscilla would’ve had her fill by now. Despite her better judgment, he was beginning to prove his point: she had absolutely no valid reason for choosing Florida, other than the fact that moving there bore equal weight with her other options. In theory, she could go anywhere, as no place really offered her any guarantee of success. But she also knew some sort of
change was necessary. She had come to the end of the road as far as her current circumstances were concerned, and the only hope she could see of starting a new life would be relocating.
And since she had come to abhor virtually every aspect of her present situation, choosing the antithesis had the most allure. She would move from dark, dank and old to bright, sunny and new, leaving behind crude, rude and relentless in favor of casual, friendly and laid-back. So, the reason for her desire to flee New York stemmed from nothing more than the desire to leave a life devoid of contentment and direction. Anything other than the status quo had to be better.
“There’s absolutely nothing to keep me here,” she said simply.
“Oh come, now. If nothing else, there’s me. Why would you want to leave when you could witness first-hand the spectacular downfall of a once vital man,” Philip asked, his tone lighthearted and self-mocking despite the look of disillusionment in his eyes. “Surely that’s a compelling enough reason to stick around.”
“No offense, Phil, but that prospect doesn’t appeal to me. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I watched a man unravel.”
Philip, slightly stung by her words, sat back and regarded her for a moment. “All right, then—stay and watch a once brilliant man extract himself from the depths of failure,” he said hopefully.
Priscilla watched him through wary eyes, wondering if he had just said this for affect. “Can you do that?” she asked. His words were encouraging, a little thrilling even, and Priscilla observed the subtle change that came over Philip as she challenged him.
“I should be able to, when you think about it. I had to prove myself when I started out, so why should it be any different now?”
This argument, a completely novel thought for Philip, began to search for a permanent spot to take hold and grow. And grow it did, immediately, using Priscilla’s intrigued expression as the most effective form of fertilizer. For a prolonged moment, their eyes searched each other’s faces, looking for confirmation of this promise.
“You have a distinct disadvantage this time around. The powers that be have vilified you in the press. In the beginning, they thought you could do no wrong,” Priscilla pointed out, breaking their moment of communion.
“I’d gotten the impression you didn’t even know who I was,” Philip said, startled by Priscilla’s sudden grasp of his situation.
Priscilla smiled. “I didn’t know who you were until you brought up The Phoenix Tower. I had read all about you for years, but for some reason I hadn’t put your name and face together with the all the press, good or bad. I guess I never imagined a person of your caliber would frequent a hole like Frank’s. Anyway, I passed by the main library today and decided to review the New York Times articles written about you. I had no idea what a popular topic you and your work were. You must’ve been mentioned at least a hundred times in that paper alone.”
“Yep, I was on top of the world until a few months ago. I can’t believe it’s been less than a year since everything went to hell. Funny how fast things can change.” Priscilla nodded, knowing how true this was. “But getting back to what you just said—I may have the world against me now, but I also have dozens of successes to my credit, and most of them will survive this scandal and be remembered solely for their attributes, not merely because they were designed by me.”
“The trick would be to have them remembered because they were designed by you, without the association to The Phoenix,” Priscilla said.
“That would be the trick, all right,” Philip agreed, nodding his head somberly.
“But hey, the world has the collective attention span of a gnat. Martha Stewart stepped over her public humiliation and soared to greater heights. And look at Michael Vick—he’s a hero now. The public can be quick to crucify someone, but if you humble yourself and pay your debt, they’re also quick to forgive. If you bide your time and wait for the changing of the guard over at City Hall, I bet you can be one of the city’s premier architects again, and the collapse of The Phoenix will be long forgotten. In fact, as soon as they knock it down, it will start to fade from memory. All you need to do is grow a thicker skin and get back in there with all the movers and shakers,” Priscilla said.
She had become so caught up in her pep talk, she hardly recognized her own voice. She had never considered herself an optimist. Quite the opposite. Then again, Phil was probably the first person she had known personally who was honestly worthy of optimism. She may have seen him as a rather sad case initially, but she had glimpsed a spark of determination and authentic capability in his eyes that led her to believe he possessed the power to change the course of his future. It was the first time in her life she actually envied anyone.
Philip had listened to Priscilla’s words with a mixture of awe and skepticism. Though he had felt solid enough to fight the barbarism of public ridicule just moments earlier, he had a hard time picturing a scenario in which he was back in favor with the public at large. Still, it was remarkable that she saw him in such a light. That alone was sufficient to nourish his budding hope.
“I’m going to do it,” he said. “I’m going to live down this scandal and I’m going to aggressively try to rebuild my reputation. But I’m not going to wait for a better climate. I’m going to do it now, while this mess is still fresh in everyone’s mind.”
Priscilla was suitably impressed. “How exactly are you going to do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m going to have to do some serious soul searching, but I will do it. But only on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Priscilla asked, smelling a rat with a T-square.
“You’ve got to agree to stay here in New York to help me. I couldn’t possibly work my brain properly if I was worrying all the time about how you’re doing.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. And what help could I possibly be to you?” she asked, perturbed that he would try to guilt her into staying in a place she had no more use for, and vice versa.
“You’re my moral support, my only cheerleader,” he said.
“You’ve got Caitlin,” she reminded him.
“Caitlin gives me the blind devotion of a seven-year-old daughter, which is priceless, but it’s not quite the same as the unbiased support of an intelligent adult.”
“You know, Phil, part of me would like to oblige you, but I’ve got my own life to sort out. Right now I’m technically without home or job. As challenging as your situation is, I find my needs a tad more pressing.”
“So…if you had a home and a job, you’d consider sticking around while I brainstorm a way out of my shameful state of affairs?” Priscilla wouldn’t take the bait. “Stay here—we’ll get you a nice place and find you a good job. Heck, you can work for me. All I have is temporary help now, people who barely know my name. You can take over one of their jobs.” Priscilla leveled a stern look of reproach at him until he wiped the idiotically hopeful expression from his face.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, considering the case closed. A silent stalemate ensued until Caitlin reappeared looking for more funds.
“You already spent the five dollars I gave you?” Philip asked as he dug into his pocket for his wallet.
“Gallatica was the only game open, and I stink at it. But Spy Ring is free now and that’s my favorite.” Philip held up three ones and she snatched them from his hand.
“Make it last,” he called out as she wove through the tables. “How about we find a nice hotel for you to stay in for a couple of days, and you can forget about the work part? I’ll pay you a consultant’s fee just to listen to me while I think out loud,” Philip suggested, being careful to keep his enthusiasm down.
“Like I said, I’ll buy you a first class ticket to Florida, or anywhere else you want to go. But I’d really appreciate it if you would consider helping me out. I’m not used to asking for help, so I’m afraid I’ve been a little awkward about it.”
Priscilla exhaled heavily. Philip’s humility
had moved her and she felt herself buckling under his pleas.
“All right. I’ll stay for three days—that’s it. But I won’t accept any pay,” she said.
“Okay, that’s fine, but I insist on paying for a hotel while you’re here. There’s a nice place just around the corner from where I’m staying—small, but it’s thought to be quite nice. It’s right on Madison Avenue.”
Priscilla shook her head. “No. I’ll be paying my own way. ”
“But—”
“No way, Phil. I’ll reshuffle my agenda and stay on for a couple of days, but under no circumstances do I want to feel beholden to you,” she said sharply. “It’s going to be that way, or you can forget the whole thing.”
“Okay, that’s the way it will be, then,” he said, holding his palms up in surrender to her demands. “Can I at least take you to where you’ll be staying?”
“You can do better than that—you can find me a place, since I don’t know of any. But it can’t be any swanky joint on Central Park. That’s not in my budget.
“You’ve got it. I think I know of a place on Fifty-Fourth between Sixth and Seventh. It might be kind of funky, but it’s a decent location and I think it’s reasonable. You want to go check it out?”
“Sure,” she agreed. Philip fetched a reluctant Caitlin while Priscilla gathered her worldly goods together. She had made another dubious bargain, but as was often the case, she caught herself adjusting her priorities with curious alacrity. Life was easier when she felt she had no control over it. She waited by the exit and let Phil lead her to the next phase of her life.
Seventeen
Tobias let out a long, low groan before pitching over on the bed next to a recumbent and radiant Simone. Their lovemaking had been a veritable smorgasbord of postures, emotions and attitudes, the final result being two entirely spent and satiated bodies. Simone, being younger, was the first to recover sufficiently to make a move. She propped herself up on an elbow and giggled at Tobias’s sorry condition.
Alligators in the Trees Page 22