them). Hated being useless to him, offering nothing. She had achieved things in this city, slipping into a few homes. But to what end? For a few minutes’ company? To peek at how college kids lived? Quizzing that student on 115th Street had produced nothing. He’d been harmless, which was the problem: you meddled with bastards, not with some shy kid.
Venn scanned for a free taxi, his attention shifting to the next appointment. This encounter was about to end. A long wait till the next.
She’d hoped this would be a full day together, the beginning of a fresh adventure with him—at the very least, a long meal or a long walk. But it was over already. With a presentiment of her coming solitude, she watched him.
But hang on. Don’t disappear.
“I did do one thing,” she blurted.
Before intending to, Tooly found herself describing Duncan and mentioning Xavi and Emerson—even the guy downstairs with the pig. To make herself sound industrious, she inflated everything, sketching a setting that was fat with potential. “I realize they’re only in college,” she said, “but they must have parents.”
“Most people do, you’ll find.”
“I got tons of stuff on them.” She searched her coat pockets for thecrumpled ball of newsprint where she’d jotted notes upon leaving that apartment. She read aloud her scribbled fragments, watching Venn for the detail that would snag him, sharpen his gaze.
None did.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize to me, duck. Never any need for that,” he said. “Look, if you want, keep digging around up there. Or give the boy lawyer a call sometime, see what comes of it.”
“I’m so stupid—I don’t even have his number.”
“How’d you manage that?” he asked, chuckling.
“You say I’m not supposed to write numbers down anymore!” Contrary to his preferences, Tooly had long kept a little phone book. She crossed out every number after they left a city, but he still preferred that they only memorize information—after all, the people they encountered were not necessarily types one wished to be connected to in writing.
“So you did get his number,” he asked, “but can’t recall it?”
“I didn’t even ask,” she admitted. “I hate getting numbers. They want mine back, and I never know what to say.”
“Say you’re moving and don’t have a new phone line installed yet.”
“Hey,” she exclaimed, nostrils flaring, “that’s what you always tell me !”
Grinning, he shut his eyes, lids flickering. Tooly frowned, meaning for him to see when he looked up. Instead, he walked on. She couldn’t stop herself hurrying after. “You idiot,” she said, threading her arm under his, inhaling the wet-wood scent of his sweater.
Venn was busy reviewing the scrap of scribbled notes about the students—how had he even taken that from her? “This paper smells like peanut butter.”
“My sandwich was in there,” she said, grabbing it back. “See—never worry about me writing stuff down; I can always eat the evidence.”
He burst into laughter, which caused such a surge of joy in her.
“It’s decided,” she announced. “I’m going back up there. And I’mgetting something useful for us from these college kids. Okay? Just tell me what you’d like.”
“Little duck, you know what works.”
Venn touched her cheek, causing her to fall silent. He entered a taxi, leaving her alone on the caterwauling street.
2011
S HE PASSED JUST ONE HIKER in the Black Mountains that morning, a small boy with a large rucksack who mumbled a greeting that Tooly cheerfully returned. It didn’t seem like the world up here. The villages below remained attached to modern life. But the hares and sheep darted away whichever the century, whatever excitation swept the valleys, whether menfolk were conscripted, if decades later they reminisced of war, if long after that their widows sat alone for supper.
In the distance down the ridge, something caught her attention. A group
Venn scanned for a free taxi, his attention shifting to the next appointment. This encounter was about to end. A long wait till the next.
She’d hoped this would be a full day together, the beginning of a fresh adventure with him—at the very least, a long meal or a long walk. But it was over already. With a presentiment of her coming solitude, she watched him.
But hang on. Don’t disappear.
“I did do one thing,” she blurted.
Before intending to, Tooly found herself describing Duncan and mentioning Xavi and Emerson—even the guy downstairs with the pig. To make herself sound industrious, she inflated everything, sketching a setting that was fat with potential. “I realize they’re only in college,” she said, “but they must have parents.”
“Most people do, you’ll find.”
“I got tons of stuff on them.” She searched her coat pockets for thecrumpled ball of newsprint where she’d jotted notes upon leaving that apartment. She read aloud her scribbled fragments, watching Venn for the detail that would snag him, sharpen his gaze.
None did.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize to me, duck. Never any need for that,” he said. “Look, if you want, keep digging around up there. Or give the boy lawyer a call sometime, see what comes of it.”
“I’m so stupid—I don’t even have his number.”
“How’d you manage that?” he asked, chuckling.
“You say I’m not supposed to write numbers down anymore!” Contrary to his preferences, Tooly had long kept a little phone book. She crossed out every number after they left a city, but he still preferred that they only memorize information—after all, the people they encountered were not necessarily types one wished to be connected to in writing.
“So you did get his number,” he asked, “but can’t recall it?”
“I didn’t even ask,” she admitted. “I hate getting numbers. They want mine back, and I never know what to say.”
“Say you’re moving and don’t have a new phone line installed yet.”
“Hey,” she exclaimed, nostrils flaring, “that’s what you always tell me !”
Grinning, he shut his eyes, lids flickering. Tooly frowned, meaning for him to see when he looked up. Instead, he walked on. She couldn’t stop herself hurrying after. “You idiot,” she said, threading her arm under his, inhaling the wet-wood scent of his sweater.
Venn was busy reviewing the scrap of scribbled notes about the students—how had he even taken that from her? “This paper smells like peanut butter.”
“My sandwich was in there,” she said, grabbing it back. “See—never worry about me writing stuff down; I can always eat the evidence.”
He burst into laughter, which caused such a surge of joy in her.
“It’s decided,” she announced. “I’m going back up there. And I’mgetting something useful for us from these college kids. Okay? Just tell me what you’d like.”
“Little duck, you know what works.”
Venn touched her cheek, causing her to fall silent. He entered a taxi, leaving her alone on the caterwauling street.
2011
S HE PASSED JUST ONE HIKER in the Black Mountains that morning, a small boy with a large rucksack who mumbled a greeting that Tooly cheerfully returned. It didn’t seem like the world up here. The villages below remained attached to modern life. But the hares and sheep darted away whichever the century, whatever excitation swept the valleys, whether menfolk were conscripted, if decades later they reminisced of war, if long after that their widows sat alone for supper.
In the distance down the ridge, something caught her attention. A group
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