The Big Dream by Rebecca Rosenblum Page B

glitter, like stones. Weird.”
    Rae’s left heel skidded on the gritty asphalt.
    Andy said, “I can hear . . . construction?”
    â€œDemolition. They’re knocking down a parking garage. You get used to it. We did. And Mallick never heard anything to start with.”
    â€œHow long will it last? Who’s Mallick?”
    â€œOctober, supposedly. We’ll see. Mallick sits behind me, mainly does text.” Rae and Hamid had been answering the questions in alternation, walking single file across the wide silent asphalt. It didn’t matter who answered; anyone who had been there more than a year shared the same body of knowledge and complaint.
    They reached a thin strip of concrete edging a thin strip of grass edging a thin veil of trees edging the highway. Hamid sat down on the concrete lip. Rae sighed. She’d suspected something like this. She put her salad on the ground and began tucking her skirt in between her thighs. Clenching violently, she sat, knees at nipple level.
    Andy’s skirt was long and floaty, so she sat more easily, spread her knees to make a hammock for her sandwich. Hamid sprawled half on concrete, half on grass and tried to bite through a pizza pop wrapper.

    â€œAre there any so cial things here?”
    Rae picked up her Tupperware of spinach and diced ham. “What do you mean?”
    â€œLike, my sister’s on the social committee at her hospital? They went golfing?”
    â€œI don’t think . . . We’re not the best people to ask.”
    Hamid was tossing the pop in the air between bites. “I’m pretty sure there’s charity stuff. There’s pictures of a dirty little orphan up in the lunchroom, with a mayonnaise jar full of loonies under it. Are you married? Engaged?”
    â€œWhat? Me?” Andy’s sandwich was pink ham and yellow mustard, white bread. Rae could see a Dad’s Oatmeal Cookie packet in her bag. “No, I have a boyfriend, Topher. He works in a bank, and skis – ”
    Hamid waved his juice box. “Wedding cakes, I mean. Are you getting one?”
    â€œNot yet.” Andy shrugged a demure, inward shrug. “Maybe someday. You?”
    â€œI might not be the marrying kind, I dunno. But maybe someday.”
    Rae had known Hamid for three years, and only ever seen him with colleagues. She had no idea if there was anyone specific he wasn’t marrying. Which was a relief, since it meant he probably hadn’t noticed that she wore a wedding band, then didn’t.
    â€œOh, damn.” She pointed at the run in her nylons she’d already known was there.
    It had the desired effect, a switch in conversation. Andy didn’t like nylons. Neither did Hamid. They both said why, in detail. Rae nodded thoughtfully.
    Rae and Theo’s wedding cake had been very plain, except for a dozen lavender sugar flowers with foil stamens that you couldn’t eat. On their first anniversary, the thawed top layer had been surprising tasty, but ugly, the flowers all melted and deformed.

    Andy’s sandwich was just a crescent of crust. Soon they could go back in. Rae tried to judge the weight of Hamid’s drinking box by the way he held it.
    A Hummer blew by, enveloping them in grit and the thump of speakers. Probably a finance intern. Rae put the lid on her sandy half-eaten salad and stood, ready for the conversation, lunch, day to be over.
    Andy scrambled up. “I had to park outside today. Do you think I can get an indoor pass?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Rae started walking towards the building, and the others fell in step beside her. She hadn’t had this much eye-contact with Hamid all year.
    Andy was scanning the lot. “Where do you park?”
    â€œI don’t have a car right now.”
    Andy’s lower lip dropped. “Really? Where do you live ?”
    â€œFinch and – actually, Bloor West Village now.” Rae shrugged. “I just moved, I keep