Uptown Girl

by Olivia Goldsmith

  ‘You may be right, Kate,’ Elliot agreed. ‘I certainly don’t think you’ll find him in the Sub-Zero. But you could take out the profiteroles.’

  ‘Very funny.’ Kate pulled a quart of milk and a pint of half-and-half out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. ‘I admit you didn’t see him at his best. Trust me. Michael is much better one on one.’

  ‘I bet.’ Elliot smirked.

  Kate ignored his innuendo. ‘No. Honestly. Evidence. He can be funny. And he’s really smart. He got his doctorate at twenty-one, was teaching at Barnard when he was twenty-four and is considering his post-doc. I think he’s going to get tenure at Columbia.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for his curriculum vitae,’ Elliot snapped. ‘He’s just dull. Your father was an alcoholic and you never knew what to expect when he came home. Your mother died before you hit puberty. I know you want a responsible male, someone you can depend on. But this guy isn’t just stable, he’s inert. Where’s the magic between you? And he’s not nearly good enough for you. Don’t let your snobbishness over academic achievement blind you.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she assured him, but a nagging voice in the back of her consciousness wondered about that. Despite all her professional training and the analysis she herself had been required to undergo, she still sometimes felt that much of what she did was a reaction to the desperate childhood she’d had.

  Elliot shrugged, turned around quickly in order to pick up the tray of coffee cups, and knocked over Kate’s purse which had been sitting on the counter.

  ‘There goes my cell phone,’ Kate said.

  ‘Is it the Havilland?’ Brice called.

  ‘No. It’s the Melmac,’ Elliot yelled. ‘He’s obsessed with the damn stuff,’ he told her. ‘Be right in, sweetheart.’

  Then he knelt down to pick up Kate’s handbag and all the objects that had scattered over the floor. ‘I’m so sorry. I think I broke your makeup mirror.’

  ‘Uh oh. It was a magnifying one. So do I have fourteen years of bad luck, or just seven years of more intense bad luck?’

  ‘Stop it, Kate. I’m a statistician, a mathematician, not a superstitious bumpkin.’

  ‘But you talk about magic …’

  ‘Not Harry Potter magic. Not superstitious nonsense. I’m talking about magic between two people.’

  ‘Need any help?’ Brice called. ‘We’re waiting out here.’

  ‘No, dear,’ Elliot responded. He handed Kate her purse. Kate, kneeling beside him, picked up the remainder of the detritus and threw it in.

  ‘Hey, what’s this?’ Elliot asked. Kate looked up. He was waving an envelope in the air.

  ‘It’s an invite to Bunny’s wedding.’ Kate sighed.

  ‘Bunny of the Bitches of Bushwick is getting married?’ Elliot asked. ‘When did this happen? You never tell me anything.’

  ‘Hey, I got it today. And you’re on a need-to-know basis.’ Kate stood up. ‘Can you believe it? She was just dumped by a guy a month ago. I don’t know where this came from.’

  ‘Brooklyn. And on the rebound,’ Elliot said. ‘Can I go? Please, can I go?’

  ‘No,’ Kate replied. ‘See, this is another valid reason why I shouldn’t break up with Michael. With Bina getting engaged and now this, I have to go with someone viable.’

  ‘But Michael is so …’ Elliot didn’t get a chance to finish his critique because, suddenly, a loud and frantic pounding came from the front door of the apartment. ‘What in the world?’

  The two of them hurried into the living room where Brice was standing at the door. He looked at Elliot and Elliot shrugged. Brice opened the door. A woman, her hair wild, her face covered by her hands, threw herself into the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone stood in silent amazement and Brice actually took two steps back. It was only after a moment or two that Kate saw the woman’s fingernails and realized, with a horrible shudder, that she had a French manicure.

  ‘Bina!’ Kate gasped. ‘Oh, Bina! What’s happened to you?’

  7

  Bina looked around her wildly. ‘Katie! Ohmigod. Oh, Katie!’ Then she threw herself onto the sofa and heaved with sobs. Kate, paralyzed for a moment, stepped forward and put her hand gently on Bina’s shoulder. Could she have been raped? Had someone mugged her? Her clothes were such a mess and her hair so disheveled that, at first, Kate only thought of physical tragedies.

  Elliot stood looking down at the weeping woman on his couch. ‘It’s Bina?’ he whispered. ‘This is the famous Bina?’

  Kate ignored him. ‘Bina? Bina dear, what’s happened?’

  Bina shook her head violently. Kate actually felt one of Bina’s tears hit her own cheek and put her arms around her sobbing friend. ‘Shhh,’ she crooned and stroked Bina’s hair. Somehow all the times Kate had witnessed Bina’s hysterical outbursts over the years, at sleepovers and parties, flashed in a visceral way through her consciousness. Kneeling, with her arms around Bina, was familiar. Then she looked up and remembered the audience of three men surrounding this drama. And that the drama was happening in Manhattan on a borrowed sofa. She hoped the whole thing wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Then a new thought occurred to her. ‘Bina, how did you find me here?’

  ‘Max,’ Bina said, struggling with her tears. ‘He heard me crying in the hall and told me where you were.’ She took a gulping breath and burst into tears again. Elliot and Brice drew closer to the couch, like rubberneckers, while Michael had withdrawn to a spot behind the dining table. Kate couldn’t help but think that she was watching the epitomes of men: the straight ones retreating in the face of emotional turmoil and the gay ones jumping right in.

  She looked back down at her friend. ‘Bina, what’s happened?’ Kate asked again.

  ‘Choked,’ Bina wailed as fresh tears poured from her eyes.

  ‘Are you choking?’ Kate asked, confused.

  ‘I can do the Heimlich. Does she need the Heimlich?’ Brice asked, a bit too hopefully.

  Bina, still sobbing, violently shook her head no.

  ‘I never get to do the Heimlich,’ Brice sighed. ‘Do you?’ he asked, turning to Michael, who was now folding and unfolding a napkin, obviously completely unnerved by the situation.

  It was unnerving to anyone who didn’t know Bina, but Kate had witnessed many a hysterical outburst like this before, once over the dress Bina’s mother had selected for the prom. Now Kate took Bina’s hands in her own and spoke to her firmly but gently. ‘Who choked? Who’s choking, Bina?’ She turned to Elliot. ‘Would you please get her a glass of water?’

  Elliot, turning to Brice, repeated the request. ‘Brice, get her a glass of water. This is better than One Life to Live.’

  Brice didn’t budge. ‘One Life to Live? This is better than The Young and the Restless.’ He turned to Michael, still in the corner behind the table. ‘Put down the linen,’ Brice told him. ‘You get the water.’

  Michael seemed all too happy to leave the scene and disappeared into the kitchen. Bina gave another wail.

  ‘Bina, you have to calm down,’ Kate said, turning her attention back to her. ‘You have to. And you have to tell us what’s wrong.’ Bina took some trembling breaths and got the sobbing under control. It occurred to Kate that Bina might have had an accident or be sick. ‘Does something hurt?’ she asked.

  Bina nodded her head.

  ‘Do you need a doctor?’ Kate continued.

  Bina nodded more vigorously. ‘Yes. Jewish and unmarried. The kind who likes my type and who’s looking for serious commitment.’ She broke out into sobs again.

  Elliot and Brice moved even closer to the circle. ‘Uh oh,’ Elliot said. ‘Kate, check out her hand.’ He and Brice exchanged meaningful looks.

  Kate, not quite understanding, thought of their manicure that afternoon. Had Bina had some allergic reaction? ‘Bina, have you hurt your hands?’ She looked down at Bina’s hands but didn’t see anything more alarming than the French manicure.

  ‘Not her right hand, Kate,’ said Brice. ‘Her left hand. Second fi
nger from the pinkie.’

  Kate finally understood. She wrapped her arms around Bina and said, ‘Oh, my God. Jack …’

  ‘… Jack choked,’ Bina told her. ‘He had the ring in his breast pocket. I could see the bulge the box made.’ She began to cry again. ‘Oh, Katie! Instead of asking me to marry him, he asked if we could spend this time apart … exploring our singleness.’

  ‘That son-of-a-bitch!’ Kate, who thought that she understood enough about people and their motivations to no longer be surprised, was shocked. While Jack had finished school and entered corporate life, Bina had waited, worked and collected every issue of Bride. She watched as all her other friends became engaged, she’d relentlessly thrown shower after bridal shower, a virtual pre-connubial fountain. And now, when at last it was her turn, Jack had choked? Bina didn’t deserve this. ‘That goddamn son-of-a-bitch!’ Kate was ready to spit.

  She looked up to see that Michael had returned from the kitchen just in time to hear her undeleted expletives and recoil at the outburst. Lucky that she hadn’t called Jack a motherfucker, she thought, as she watched him approach the sofa and gingerly hold out the glass of water to Bina. Bina ignored the gift.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Bina said, wiping ineffectually at her face and only making the raccoon eyes worse. ‘He got the ring from Barbie’s father. Mr Leventhal gave him a break. It was princess cut, Barbie said – just under a karat and a half.’ She paused for breath while Michael gaped and Elliot and Brice shook their heads in sympathy – and almost in unison.

  ‘Everyone will know,’ Bina said, and began sobbing again. ‘I can’t believe he’d do this to me. Just drop me. And shame me in front of everyone.’

  Kate took the napkin from Michael’s hand, dipped it into the water and held it up to her friend’s face. ‘Bina, honey,’ she said with all the assurance she could muster. ‘You’ve been going out with Jack for six years. He loves you.’ She wiped mascara from under Bina’s eyes. ‘Blow your nose,’ she said, and Bina did. ‘Look, this is just a temporary thing. Sometimes it happens. Picking a life mate is a serious decision. It isn’t that Jack doesn’t want to marry you. It’s a lot more probable that he just got frightened. I’m sure he’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow he’ll be in Hong Kong. With my ring! I’ll be dumped in Bensonhurst and he’ll be the Christopher Columbus of singleness,’ cried Bina, who had a penchant for wildly inappropriate metaphor when under pressure.

  ‘Maybe you should drink the water,’ Michael said awkwardly, and pressed the glass into her hand.

  Bina looked down at the glass. ‘Is there strychnine in it?’ she asked without lifting her eyes.

  ‘Uh … no,’ Michael replied.

  In a single smooth motion Bina dumped the water out over her shoulder and down the back of the sofa. ‘Then what good is it to me?’ she said to no one in particular. She fell back onto the sofa and burst into a fresh batch of tears.

  ‘That was a gesture,’ Elliot said, grabbing a napkin.

  ‘On Fortuny fabric,’ Brice added. ‘This is so Brooklyn.’

  ‘I knew I’d love Brooklyn,’ Elliot said.

  Kate looked up over Bina’s head at the two of them and gave them a warning squint, her blue eyes narrowed to lizard slits. She wondered if she could get the girl home to her own apartment and calm her and put her to bed there, but either getting a cab or walking back with Michael seemed impossible. Better to deal with it here and then go home. But first she needed to free the frightened Michael and stare off the spectating twosome, though, to be fair, it was their own home. ‘I’m sorry, guys,’ Kate started, looking up at the three men. ‘It looks like we might have to put off dessert.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Brice said. ‘In times of pain nothing works better than drowning your problems in profiteroles.’

  Elliot nodded, but Michael began backing toward the door. ‘I think you’re right, Kate,’ he agreed, relief shining from every pore. ‘I’ll just see myself out,’ he added, picking up his briefcase and heading out of the door into the foyer. ‘Have a nice evening,’ he said as he closed the door behind him.

  Kate jumped up. ‘Just a minute, Bina,’ she said, giving another narrow-eyed glance at the guys as a deterrent, and ran to the hallway. She was just in time to see Michael step into the elevator. ‘Hold it!’ she called, got to the button and pressed it. Michael stood in the fake mahogany cab like an insect suspended in amber. ‘You’re leaving like that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Like what?’ he asked, looking down at himself as if it was an unzipped fly she was commenting on.

  ‘My friend just had her life shattered and you go out the door saying, “Have a nice evening”?’ Kate had learned not to expect too much of a date in the early stages of their mating dance, but Michael was way out of tempo. ‘Have a nice evening?’ she repeated, mirroring him.

  ‘Kate,’ Michael began. ‘Bina is your friend, not mine. I don’t really think it’s my place …’

  ‘… To be what? Nice, kind, caring? Can’t you just pretend to be sensitive?’ Kate realized she was holding him hostage and took her finger off the button. The door closed slowly across his miserable face. Kate turned away, hoping he would press the door-open button and return, at least to give her a kiss and a moment of sympathy, but the elevator door remained as smoothly closed as Michael’s emotions had been. She shook her head to clear it. She had to return to Bina.

  She entered the apartment and found to her surprise that Bina had stopped crying. She was sitting up on the sofa beside Elliot, who was holding her hand and sharing his own heartbreaks. ‘… And then he said, “I’m going back to my place to get my things and move in.” I was thrilled, just thrilled, so I said, “Can I come and help” and he kissed me and said, “No, sweetie. It won’t take but a few hours,” and I never saw or heard from him again.’

  Bina shook her head in mute sympathy.

  ‘Just as well,’ Brice said. ‘Street trash. It’s all worked out for the best.’ He kissed the top of Elliot’s head. Kate saw Bina blink.

  ‘Well, let me bring out the profiteroles and actually nuke the chocolate sauce,’ Brice said and headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Meanwhile I’ll get a blanket,’ Elliot offered and disappeared into the bedroom. Bina nodded gratefully to Kate.

  Kate, with nothing else left to do, sat beside her. ‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said, comforting her friend now they were alone. ‘You must be devastated.’

  ‘Oh, Katie, how could he do this? Who does he think he is? The Magellan of certified public accountants?’ Bina asked. ‘How could he?’

  Kate looked into her imploring eyes. But she had no easy answers. ‘Even if he leaves for Hong Kong he’ll have that long flight alone, he’ll miss you, he’ll remember the good times and how much he loves you …’ Kate paused, hoping that all she conjectured was true. She wanted to comfort Bina but not lie to her. If an eight-year-old like Brian had to face the reality of the death of his mother, Kate believed it would be best for Bina to face the death of her relationship with Jack, if that was what it was. But she was sure it couldn’t have suffered a mortal wound. Bina was lovable and Jack, slow-moving as he was, had always seemed to adore her. ‘I’m sure he’ll call. Even if he leaves for Hong Kong I bet he sends you a ticket to join him and proposes there,’ Kate ventured hopefully.

  ‘Men are just funny …’

  ‘Not homosexual ones,’ Elliot said as he walked back into the room carrying a knitted afghan throw. ‘We’re fucking hysterical.’ He knelt down beside Bina and wrapped her up in it. Brice came out of the kitchen carrying a full tray which he put down gracefully on the coffee table. Arrayed before them were four dessert plates, the plate of profiteroles, a silver server of piping-hot dark chocolate sauce, lace-trimmed napkins, a crystal shot glass and a frosted bottle of Finlandia. ‘All for you,’ Brice said.

  Bina looked at the tray. ‘I’d love some dessert but I don’t drink,’ she told him.

  ‘You do tonight, honey,’ Bric
e said and poured her a shot. ‘Chocolate and alcohol together beat shit out of Prozac.’

  Bina looked at him, at the brimming shot glass, and, to Kate’s utter surprise, took it from him and knocked it back.

  ‘Good girl!’ Elliot said.

  ‘And here’s your chaser,’ Brice added and handed Bina the pastries. ‘You know what they say: just a spoonful of sugar …’

  Bina picked up the plate to dig in.

  ‘Wait just a minute,’ Brice said. ‘The doctor is in.’ He picked up the silver pitcher, raised it theatrically and poured out the bitter chocolate over the ice cream pastry.

  Kate looked at the three of them entranced, not sure if she was experiencing pleasure or discomfort. Her two worlds had merged here on the Fortuny-upholstered sofa and all one could have said was that it seemed quiet on the western front. Then Brice filled the shot glass again and handed it to Bina who, docile as a kosher lamb, drank it down. That broke Kate’s trance. ‘Guys, this is more serious than something a drink and an overdose of carbohydrates will cure,’ she told them.

  ‘Honey, there’s nothing that will cure this. But alcohol and sugar will temporarily dull the pain,’ Brice replied. ‘Trust me. I know.’

  Bina, back at her dessert, looked up from her plate with a dazed expression on her face. Elliot wiped the chocolate from around her mouth with the lace napkin.

  ‘Who are these guys, Katie?’ Bina asked, looking at Elliot and Brice with some confusion. ‘Are they therapists, too? They’re very good.’

  ‘No, dear. This is my friend Elliot, who works with me at school, and his partner Brice,’ Kate told her. Bina smiled, but it was obvious that Kate’s words were merely washing over her. She suddenly realized just how drunk Bina was.

  ‘Why am I here?’ Bina asked. ‘And why are they roommates?’ She slurred her words, and only God knew how slurred her mind was. Again Kate wished that she hadn’t mixed Brooklyn with Manhattan. They were parallel universes, and, like parallel lines, should never ever touch.