Part 17 (2/2)
”On the west side of Manhattan? Not a chance.” He stops them at the next curb to avoid a delivery man on a bike who is ignoring the red light. Henry says, ”Now that she knows I found Thalia-she's calling it 'getting custody,' by the way-it would be one long third degree. She'd be relentless, and I'm a bad liar. If she asked where Thalia was tonight, I'd have to make up a story.”
”Couldn't you just say, 'The subject of Thalia is off-limits'? That way you're not lying. You're just setting ground rules.”
”Maybe another time, but not tonight,” says Henry. ”Especially not tonight.”
”Have I mentioned that she ends every message with 'Say hi to Henry for me'? And don't you find it sweet that in her own De-nisean way she's happy for us?”
”She's happy for herself. She wants full credit and a standing ovation, which I find a little patronizing, actually.”
Todd has stopped in the middle of the block and is no longer smiling.
Henry does not have to ask, Is something wrong? ”If anyone else had introduced us I'd be sending orchids,” he says.
”Good,” says Todd. ”I feel better. Thank you. This is where I'd kiss you if you were a guy who tolerated public displays of affection.”
Henry smiles. ”That's the other guy, the one playing me in the movie.”
”A tour de force,” says Todd. ”I think he's going to win a Golden Globe.”
They move on, agreeing that a peek at the new Zagat might help. En route to a magazine kiosk, Henry says quietly, ”I quit therapy last week after twenty-five years. And a day later I kicked Denise off my property. Some of us think that's progress.”
”Believe me, I get it. It's hard to thank that little goat for anything. But you're holding all the cards: Not only are you and Thalia reunited, but you're a team. She's crazy about you, you know.”
”We are a team, aren't we?” Henry says.
”So let's review: Spent entire life with her mother? Not speaking and estranged. Missed several decades with allegedly unfit father? Bosom buddies and trusted allies. You win! I think your ex-therapist would agree that Denise is no threat to you or to-”
Their cell phones ring almost simultaneously. Both men check the caller ID, and both take a sharp breath. It is Krouch, D calling for Todd, and Krouch, T calling for Henry.
20. Closets Galore.
TODD IGNORES DENISE'S CALL, as Henry answers Thalia's with a terse, ”What's wrong?”
”Not a thing. I'm calling with an update for my team.”
”From?”
”A toilet stall.”
”You sound funny.”
”I'm relining my lips. Almost finished. Is that better?”
”Everything okay so far?”
”Not horrible. We're talking. He seems to have memorized a short list of conversation starters.”
Henry pauses to brief Todd. ”She says so far, so good. She's calling from the ladies' room.”
Thalia says, ”I'd better get back out there, but here's the headline: Leif suggests that after a month or two we should announce I'm pregnant.”
”Over my dead body,” says Henry.
”What?” Todd asks. ”What did she say?”
”I hope you told him in no uncertain terms-”
”I said, 'Oh, really? And then what-I wear a prosthesis? Or do I disappear for a few months and resurface holding a lifelike baby doll named Leif Junior?' Puh-leez. I told him I never signed on for that, and better luck with the next girlfriend-smiling the whole time, of course.”
”What's he's trying to pull?” Todd demands. ”Is everything okay?”
”I didn't call to upset you,” says Thalia. ”I thought this was funny, or at least good gossip. I'd better get back before he thinks I crawled out the window.”
”You know what I'd tell him? The truth. That you found his request alarming and a breach of contract, and you felt it was necessary to call your lawyer, who is appalled at the mere suggestion of a pregnancy.”
”No way,” cries Todd. ”I'm appalled, too. A pregnancy. What's next? A s.e.x tape?”
”Pregnancy rumor” corrects Thalia. ”Big difference.”
”I don't care how many starlets are having out-of-wedlock babies. It takes some nerve to propose that on a first date.”
”Guys! It was just floated out there. I dealt with it. It might even have been a joke-hard to tell with him. Are you two having fun?”
Henry switches ears, collects himself. ”We are. We watched the Derby, and now we're off in search of dinner.”
”Leif's allergic to mushroom spores,” says Thalia. ”He told the maitre d' before we were even shown to our table. And then, of course, he confided same to our waiter, who was very gracious and rea.s.suring.”
Henry hears new female voices. Thalia is no longer alone. ”Let's review,” she instructs Henry. ”They can watch the whole movie, but then right to bed, lights out, no reading, no dillydallying. And tomorrow? Mommy will make Belgian waffles for breakfast with her new waffle iron.”
”She's bored to death,” Henry tells Todd.
They walk seven blocks to Chirping Chicken, where they order two deluxe burgers and one order of onion rings.
When they're seated, plastic cutlery and skimpy napkins in place, matching peach iced teas in hand, Todd says, ”Why do I sense you're not an habitue of joints recommended under 'Cheap Eats'?”
”It's fine. I like it here. And if it's good, I'll get a half chicken delivered some night. Sweet potato fries sound delicious. I was tempted.”
Todd asks, minus his usual gusto, ”Would a whole roast chicken at my house some Friday night hold any interest?”
”Friday night? As in Shabbat dinner? You do that?”
”Not wholeheartedly.”
Henry leans in, squints diagnostically. ”I'd say yes, I'd love to-except for the look I'm getting.”
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