Part 2 (1/2)
”I'm tired of living underground. It isn't fair or healthy for any of us.”
”I can't imagine what it must be like. I agree with you, but are you ready to risk your career?”
”There are laws to protect me.”
”Laws schmaws. If the old geezers on the board want you out-”
”I hope the paper has the integrity to place merit over s.e.xuality.”
”Don't count on that.” He looked squarely into Helen's eyes. ”But you can count on me to fight for you.”
”Thanks.”
He rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the column again. ”It's good copy.” He nodded. ”You're on for Friday.”
”Good. Are we finished?” Helen stood, antic.i.p.ating his yes.
”Not just yet.” He waved her down again. ”Let me read something, and I quote: 'Message to green eyes. I will have lunch at the restaurant that bears the name of the column we discussed. I'd like to talk with you further. Friday, one p.m.'”
Sam c.o.c.ked his head and raised only one eyebrow. Helen let out a slow breath. She'd rather work the mailroom than lose the message.
”Starting a private dating service?” The editor was back.
”Sam, leave it in. It's a one-time deal.”
”Lucky for you I'm feeling generous.”
Helen met Tucson at Central Park South for lunch. The weather was tauntingly warm compared with earlier in the week.
”Two pretzels with mustard,” Tucson said and paid the street vendor. He handed one to Helen. ”I can't believe you've never had a pretzel with mustard. Are you really a native of this smoggy city, or are you feeding us a load of bull in your columns?”
”To be honest, I grew up in Brewster, but you'll never hear me admit it in public.” She bit into her pretzel and added a m.u.f.fled comment. ”This tastes pretty good.”
They ate and chatted casually, but Tucson finished his lunch quickly.
”Now tell me, word wizard, what's with the column on closeted gays?” He dropped his napkin into the trash. ”Have you taken it upon your shoulders to help create a more accepting society for us?”
”I'm a realist. I'll never fully see that in my lifetime. I'm just tired of the oppression and I want to say something. My readers can interpret me however they choose, and they will.”
”Well, oppression will always exist. We live with it and try not to carry a chip.”
Helen stopped and grabbed his arm, not believing what she'd just heard. ”How can you be so insensitive? It's att.i.tudes like yours that give our society the notion that some are better than others. I've conformed long enough.”
”You're turning into a martyr,” he said, unruffled by her demeanor. ”Talk is cheap. Coming out would serve a better purpose, but I don't see you jeopardizing your career.”
Helen laughed to herself. The friend conspiring with the editor conspiring with the tease on the street. When they approached a vacant horse-drawn carriage, Tucson handed a wad of bills to a coachman and helped Helen up and onto the seat.
”What's going on that you hired a coach to smooth it over with me?” Helen asked as the carriage lurched forward.
”I'm leaving New York.”
”Why?”
”For a job offer that I'd be insane to refuse.”
”Just like that? New York's been your home for-”
”-thirteen years. I'm in a rut and it's time to move forward.” He took hold of her hand. ”I wish you'd do the same.”
”Don't start with me. I have a terrific career and a roof over my head. Life is good.”
”And memories. Don't forget memories.”
The clop-clop of horse's hooves resounded like a finely crafted timepiece. Helen listened while time surged ahead, while family, lovers, and friends took leave. The clock ticked and she sat comfortable on the second hand. Around and around and around, but she never moved a centimeter.
Suddenly, the horse reared, spooked by a careless jogger. The coachman regained control and the mare settled.
”Sorry,” the driver said over his shoulder and continued his course.
Helen brushed bits of salt from her lap. ”Don't tell me how to live my life.”
”I'm not. I love you and I worry about you. That's all I'm saying.”
Helen's eyes welled tears. ”Will you please hold me?”
”Sure.” Tucson pulled her close.
”I love you, too. I'll miss you. Will you spend time with me before you go?”
”You know I will. You're my best girl.”
Helen laughed and wiped her tears with her napkin. ”I'm your only girl. Will Pete go with you?”
Their ride reached the end and they exited the carriage. ”Yeah. We've decided that happily ever after would do us good.”
”Good. It's nice to have someone to grow old with.”
Tucson slipped his arm around Helen's waist and they crossed Fifty-Ninth Street. ”Yes, it is, and I want you to remember that.”
When they approached the entrance to the newspaper building, a jarring jolt slammed Helen into a three sixty spin. Oomph! The thud of bodies and entanglement of limbs dumped a mound of mustard onto her scarf. Helen snapped when she recovered from the unexpected whirlwind.
”d.a.m.n it. Why don't you people watch where the h.e.l.l you're going?” When she looked up, she caught her breath. Once more, that woman stared back and Helen was lost in the loveliness of her eyes.