(It's not what you think.) True, our loved ones won't be with us forever. But now, it's finally time to step outside MY lens, my friend! Or capsize, with all the lies, that I'VE been living in!!!... * * * :)...(How about the one where they'd have you believe you're not good enough??? and to think that most people place your value on how much your bank account is worth!!! ) They paused in the entrance of the Astor Riviera Cafe. The waiter in black tux and tie pointed to a table and two chairs by the window.
"How rude," Debbie groaned.
Liz laughed.
"This lifestyle...I don't know," Debbie sighed. She could not think of anything to say in the oppressive heat and so, her sentences were trailing off this morning.
"Are you still serving breakfast?" she asked the waiter.
"Yes," he said.
"Oh, nevermind, I'll have the fish sandwich," she said.
Liz ordered eggs and home fries. The waiter disappeared before Debbie could even ask for a serving of fries. When he poured her a second cup of coffee, she instantly forgave him.
"Do you have a bathroom? We ate here," Liz said.
"No," the man in tuxedo mumbled.
Liz asked their waiter and he pointed.
"I'm glad somebody knows where the bathroom is!" Debbie said loudly as they passed Mr. Tuxedo. She laughed giddily.
"I have to call Stash!" Debbie suddenly said. "I haven't talked to him in months."
"Do they have a phone book?"
"Phone book? He's at work," Debbie said.
"Well, we could look up the company," Liz said.
Debbie dialed information. "Fifty cents! Oh, well, tough." She dug in her purse. Liz laughed.
Five cents, please.
She hung up the phone in disgust. She paged through the white pages while Liz examined the yellow pages of the hefty New York Telephone book. Then they switched.
"He's not under investment banks," Debbie said. "I thought he would be. He works on Wall Street!"
"He's not in the white pages," Liz said.
"Why would he be?" Debbie said.
"See? Merrill Lynch is in the white pages." She pointed sarcastically, but with a good-natured laugh.
"Alright! Let's just go down there!"
"Why don't you call work?" Liz suggested.
"No! It's my day off. We'll find it."
Debbie could have sworn they had gotten on the downtown subway train. But, no. It now stopped at Union Square. They waited in the dank heat at the Fourteenth Street station.
"Rector Street!" she said. "It's around here somewhere."
They forged through the dense heat of Wall Street, past the historic churches and landmarks, weaving through the lunchtime crowd.
"Do you know where Suspenders is? It's a bar." Debbie approached a man selling hot dogs and soda from a cart.
"Suspenders? I don't know," he mumbled.
Neither did the men standing at the corner or the young couple arguing on the sidewalk or the doorman of an office building or anyone else. When Debbie and Liz strolled back up Rector Street, they passed the couple again, who were now kissing slowly.
"Look who made up," Debbie said.
"Why don't you find a phone and call the office?" Liz said.
"No! I've had it. I know it's somewhere around here."
"Look for someone who looks like he's been drinking. They look like they know where it is," Liz said.
Debbie approached two friendly young traders or brokers or whatever they were. "Hi! Can you tell me where Suspenders is?"
"Yeah. It's on Broadway. Go straight," the blond young man said, looking at them through his dark sunglasses. His dark-haired friend looked at them appreciatively.
"They were cute! Friendly, too! Geez, we should've asked them to join us!" Debbie sighed.
And there it was.
They sat at the bar, sipping cool Corona beer. Debbie stole a bunch of limes from the box of fruit at the bar.
"I'd rather have cherries!" she said. Liz pointed across the bar to an indoor telephone booth.
"Hello? Gloria? Could you do me a personal favor? In my desk draw - no, it's locked!"
"Yes, it is," said the temporary secretary who was taking Debbie's place at the office today.
"In my rolodex..."
"Debbie, we're so glad you called. Crystal wants to talk to you."
Her boss? What file was she looking for now? "She does? Um, is there a number in there for Stash P..."
"Debbie? Are you coming into the office today?" her boss asked.
"No."
"You're not? I was hoping you were. Where are you?" her boss asked her.
"Wall Street! At a bar. Looking forward to running around the city."
"Well, your mother called. She sounded very upset."
"Are you sure she was upset? I don't want everybody worrying for nothing."
"Your sisters were calling, too."
"Oh, no! Something's up. Is it my father?"
"No, it's not your father."
"Do you know if it's my father?" she probed her boss.
"No, I think it's your grandmother. Can you call your mother and call me back? If you need to get home, I can arrange a car service." her boss promised.
There was no answer at home. She told the operator softly that she would try again. Still, no answer.
"Hello, Stash? I know I haven't talked to you in a long time..."
"Where are you!"
"At Suspenders."
"I'm right here. I'm coming down!" he shouted.
Liz smiled from the bar and started to say something.
"Liz. Something's up at home. It's either my father or my grandmother," she said breathlessly.
"Stash's coming. I can't get a hold of my mother," she added.
"But I have to mmet Dave at 2:30," Liz said. "Maybe tonight..."
"He'll be here in a couple minutes."
She waved to him from across the bar. And it was like all those months had never passed, as if they had never stopped calling each other, as they talked like they had known each other all their lives, as it always was with Stash."
"Your boyfriend is in Pinebush? I lived in Pinebush!" he exclaimed to Liz. Debbie leaned backwards so they could talk.
"Just one!" Debbie held up her glass.
"The Irish in you," Stash said. He had a sparkle in his eye. She did not know if it were reserved just for her, or if that were just the way he was. He leaned close to her as they conversed.
"I lost weight," he said.
"You look good," Debbie said.
"So do you."
"I lost weight."
"You were never fat since I've known you!" Stash shouted.
"Yeah, but..."
"The only place you lost weight is between the ears, maybe," he smiled.
"No! Wait till you see my writing," she pouted at him, and smiled.
"I wish I could hang out tonight. I have a party to go to. On my motorcycle."
"Is it a Harley?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah," he said in surprise.
He did not seem like he rode a Harley, although his eyes were vibrant, his hair dark and neatly trimmed, his every gesture alive.
"I've gotta go back," Stash said.
"It's two. We have to meet Dave," Liz looked at her watch.
"I like meeting people, but I also like to keep in touch," Debbie called after him.
"Can we just call a cab? I can't deal with finding these subways. I'll pay," Debbie sighed in the heat, which they had temporarily escaped from, in the oasis of Suspenders.
"Sure. I'll split it with you."
Debbie waited nervously in the lobby while Liz announced herself to the receptionist. She did not remove her sunglasses.
"I need a phone," she said. But she could not retrieve her messages at home. The beep on her answering machine was too long. And still, there was no answer at her mother's house in Connecticut.
"I have to go to the office," she said. They walked around the corner to the subway station. It seemed forever as Liz and Dave conversed about their jobs, which Debbie did not hear.
She walked through the revolving doors, across the floor of the marble lobby, to the bank of elevators. Her legs felt weak and heavy. She was wearing shorts and a V neck tee shirt but she did not care. She barged into her boss' office. No one else was around.
Her boss looked up, with a slight smile.
"I'm nervous," Debbie said breathlessly. "I need an office." She grabbed her rolodex.
