call her, really.
Caroline was standing in front of Columbia University’s entrance gate at Broadway and 116th. She kissed Janine and then she kissed Daniel.
“Jesus,” Janine said. “You got gorgeous. Isn’t she gorgeous, Daniel?”
“Yup. She’s gorgeous.”
Caroline twirled in a circle, happy to display her gorgeousness.
He’d taken responsibility for her ten or twelve years ago, after her parents were killed in a street-corner mugging. It wasn’t technically in his bailiwick, but he’d made her his concern. She had no other family, and he did his best to see her placed in a decent foster home, breathing down the social workers’ necks to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bureaucracy, and then he checked in on her from time to time, encouraging her to go to community college, to look into scholarships at four-year colleges after she did well there, and finally to go to New York, where she’d always dreamed of living.
“You’re gorgeous too,” she said to Janine. “Not you, old-timer. You’re in decline.”
Caroline had become a woman. Tall, glowing with health, with wild blond hair and eyes that were gray and green and yellow and somehow both friendly and ferocious.
“Make him take you someplace nice,” Janine said. “Don’t let him take you to Dunkin’ Donuts.” She turned and headed downtown.
Caroline took Daniel’s arm.
“I do look pretty, don’t I?” she said.
He took her to lunch and she told him the story of her life since he’d seen her last. She’d been trying out for parts. She was going to sneak up on Hollywood by way of Broadway—that seemed to be the plan. In the meantime she was doing commercials to pay the rent. She’d been in three so far: Stouffer’s single-serve microwave dinners, Bose headphones, and Glade air freshener.
“You didn’t see that one? I was taking a shower in an elevator.”
“I’ve never seen anybody do that.”
“You should see me do that.”
“I’ll look out for it,” he said. “And what do you do when you get home? Do you cook?”
Daniel believed that people who cooked for themselves were stable. If she cooked, he could feel assured that she was taking care of herself nicely.
“Why would I cook?” she said. “I have a phone.”
He asked her where she was living, who she was living with, what her friends were like, what she did in her free time.
“Do you carry all this in your head?” she said. “It’s like you have a checklist.”
But he could tell that she was happy he was asking all these questions and happy to be able to give him reassuring answers.
She told him about some of her auditions. So-and-so had thought she was great but not quite right for the part; so-and-so couldn’t offer her anything right now, but she was sure he fell a little bit in love with her during the audition. Daniel found all of it interesting, but sometimes he wished people wouldn’t go into so much detail.
“I really think I could be a star if I get a chance. I think I have greatness in me.”
He looked at her to see if she was joking, but it didn’t appear that she was.
“What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“To be a star. What does it
mean
?”
“What are you, a Martian? You know what it means.”
“What does it mean to
you.
”
“Do you ever watch
In Treatment
? You’d make a really good shrink.”
“That’s Janine. So what does it mean?”
“It means you can choose your parts. You can have your pick. It means you don’t have to worry about money. It means that you get to wear pretty dresses and go to premieres and walk down the red carpet. It’s the closest you can come in this life to growing up and becoming a princess. That’s what it means.”
When he and Janine took the kids to Disneyland for the first time, Emily, who was five or six, after seeing Cinderella and Snow White, had turned to Janine and said, “So they
are
real!”
He remembered this and wished he were back at the
Caroline was standing in front of Columbia University’s entrance gate at Broadway and 116th. She kissed Janine and then she kissed Daniel.
“Jesus,” Janine said. “You got gorgeous. Isn’t she gorgeous, Daniel?”
“Yup. She’s gorgeous.”
Caroline twirled in a circle, happy to display her gorgeousness.
He’d taken responsibility for her ten or twelve years ago, after her parents were killed in a street-corner mugging. It wasn’t technically in his bailiwick, but he’d made her his concern. She had no other family, and he did his best to see her placed in a decent foster home, breathing down the social workers’ necks to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bureaucracy, and then he checked in on her from time to time, encouraging her to go to community college, to look into scholarships at four-year colleges after she did well there, and finally to go to New York, where she’d always dreamed of living.
“You’re gorgeous too,” she said to Janine. “Not you, old-timer. You’re in decline.”
Caroline had become a woman. Tall, glowing with health, with wild blond hair and eyes that were gray and green and yellow and somehow both friendly and ferocious.
“Make him take you someplace nice,” Janine said. “Don’t let him take you to Dunkin’ Donuts.” She turned and headed downtown.
Caroline took Daniel’s arm.
“I do look pretty, don’t I?” she said.
He took her to lunch and she told him the story of her life since he’d seen her last. She’d been trying out for parts. She was going to sneak up on Hollywood by way of Broadway—that seemed to be the plan. In the meantime she was doing commercials to pay the rent. She’d been in three so far: Stouffer’s single-serve microwave dinners, Bose headphones, and Glade air freshener.
“You didn’t see that one? I was taking a shower in an elevator.”
“I’ve never seen anybody do that.”
“You should see me do that.”
“I’ll look out for it,” he said. “And what do you do when you get home? Do you cook?”
Daniel believed that people who cooked for themselves were stable. If she cooked, he could feel assured that she was taking care of herself nicely.
“Why would I cook?” she said. “I have a phone.”
He asked her where she was living, who she was living with, what her friends were like, what she did in her free time.
“Do you carry all this in your head?” she said. “It’s like you have a checklist.”
But he could tell that she was happy he was asking all these questions and happy to be able to give him reassuring answers.
She told him about some of her auditions. So-and-so had thought she was great but not quite right for the part; so-and-so couldn’t offer her anything right now, but she was sure he fell a little bit in love with her during the audition. Daniel found all of it interesting, but sometimes he wished people wouldn’t go into so much detail.
“I really think I could be a star if I get a chance. I think I have greatness in me.”
He looked at her to see if she was joking, but it didn’t appear that she was.
“What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“To be a star. What does it
mean
?”
“What are you, a Martian? You know what it means.”
“What does it mean to
you.
”
“Do you ever watch
In Treatment
? You’d make a really good shrink.”
“That’s Janine. So what does it mean?”
“It means you can choose your parts. You can have your pick. It means you don’t have to worry about money. It means that you get to wear pretty dresses and go to premieres and walk down the red carpet. It’s the closest you can come in this life to growing up and becoming a princess. That’s what it means.”
When he and Janine took the kids to Disneyland for the first time, Emily, who was five or six, after seeing Cinderella and Snow White, had turned to Janine and said, “So they
are
real!”
He remembered this and wished he were back at the
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