Happy Birthday: A Novel

“So are you.” She smiled shyly, feeling different vibes from him than she had before, and she wasn’t sure what they were. Probably nothing. They just liked each other, and were both lonely and bored. And the aftermath of the attack had shaken them both up. Valerie still got anxious every day when she went to work and walked into the building. And although Jack had gone to April’s restaurant with her once, he seemed to prefer staying home in his cocoon where he felt safe, and didn’t feel ready to go out again. It had affected both of them more than they’d realized at first, but they’d been warned that that could happen, and more than likely would. There was no way to survive something as traumatizing as that without aftershocks. They’d been told to expect to experience aftereffects of the trauma for as much as a year.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” he asked, still holding on to her jacket, as though trying to keep her from running away. She laughed at his question, and was touched by the look in his eyes.

“You’re going to get tired of me if I come every day, silly,” she teased him.

“We didn’t watch the movie. We could watch it tomorrow night.” He sounded needy suddenly, which seemed unlike him, and she was sure it was a result of what he’d been through, and a sign of post-traumatic stress.

“I have to go to a network dinner tomorrow night,” she said with regret, and he looked startled.

“I was supposed to go to that too. I guess I can’t, or shouldn’t. I hate those things anyway.”

“So do I, but they’re command performances. And I have no excuse. I didn’t get shot in the leg. You’re off the hook.”

“I’ll call you,” he said, and they kissed each other on the cheek and she left.

She was walking down Fifth Avenue in the falling snow, thinking about him, and her cell phone rang. She thought it might be April, who often called her late when she closed. But it was Jack.

“Hi,” she said, as the snow fell on her head and wet her face. It felt great. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I was just thinking about you and wanted to say hello. How’s the snow?”

“Gorgeous,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t had a call like that from a man in years, for no reason at all. “You’ll be out in it again in no time.” She knew how restless and bored he was.

“Valerie, I really like you,” he said suddenly. “I love talking to you, and spending time with you.” And then he added, “And you’re a great cook.” She laughed.

“So are you.” They were living on takeout food, which wasn’t unfamiliar to her. “I have a good time with you too,” she said, as she stood at a corner, waiting for the light to change. She was halfway between his place and her own, with Central Park glistening white across the street, blanketed by the snow that had been falling that night.

“What if something happens between us?”

“Like what?” she said, looking vague as the light changed. There was no traffic on the street.

“Like boy-girl stuff. You know.” He sounded cute and young as he said it, and she smiled.

“That sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it? I’m old enough to be the mother of the girls you go out with.” Or worse, the grandmother. She didn’t say it. But the thought was like a punch in her stomach. He went out with women forty years younger than she was.

“What difference does that make? Falling in love isn’t about age. It’s about people. And those girls aren’t appropriate for me either. They’re just a hobby, or they were. Because I had nothing else to do with my time. You’re the Super Bowl, baby,” he said, and she burst out laughing. “They’re just practice in the backyard.”

“I’ve never been called that before.” But she knew that it was a compliment coming from him. “I don’t know, Jack. I thought we were friends. It would be a shame to screw that up.”

“What if we didn’t? What if it was right for both of us?”

“Then it would be a good thing, I guess.” But it was too soon for either of them to know that yet. And she didn’t want to be just a fling to him, between shifts of his young girls.

“Why don’t we keep it in mind?” he said softly, and she didn’t answer for a minute, not sure what to say. “How does that sound to you?” He wanted an answer from her, and she didn’t know which one to give. She wasn’t sure.

“It sounds interesting,” she said cautiously.

“Possible?”

“Maybe.” She wouldn’t rule it out, but she thought that in theory he was too young, and she too old, although there was only a ten-year difference in their ages. But it seemed like a lot to her, particularly given his history and lifestyle.

“That’s all I wanted to know,” he said, sounding happy. And then she thought of something.

“Are you involved with anyone now?”

“No. Are you?” He was pretty sure she wasn’t from all she’d said. But it never hurt to ask. Sometimes old lovers were lingering in closets, and still dropped by for sex from time to time. That was always good to know.

“No, I’m not.”