A Window Across the River by Brian Morton

Author:Brian Morton [Morton, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

19

HER BIRTHDAY FELL ON A SATURDAY. On the phone a few weeks earlier, Isaac had mentioned that he was playing in a summer softball league in Central Park. He could have found a league in New Jersey, but this was a way of keeping in touch with old friends from his Village Voice days. She remembered him saying that he played on Saturday afternoons.

She wrote during the morning, performed her birthday devotions in the early afternoon, and then walked to the park. It was a warm, welcoming day. There were five or six baseball fields on the Great Lawn, all of them with games in progress. On the fringes of the lawn, at a safe distance from batted balls, families were picnicking, couples were lying in the grass, a small group of elderly men and women was doing t’ai chi. New York felt almost like a family.

She walked from one softball game to another until she saw him. He was playing first base. She watched him for a while without trying to catch his eye. The second batter hit a pop-up to the right side of the field; she watched Isaac ranging over to the foul line to catch it. Relaxed and confident, he caught the ball in a basket catch, a little show-offy, and tossed it back to the pitcher, a tall woman with thick dark slightly graying hair. Isaac moved nicely.

Nora hadn’t been looking forward to her birthday—thirty-five seemed old. But now, on a beautiful summer day, having sought out and found the man she cared for, she felt young.

The inning was over. Isaac was the second person to bat for his team. Nora felt very old-fashioned: Teresa Wright in Pride of the Yankees, watching with love and awe as Lou Gehrig hits a home run. Isaac didn’t hit a home run, though, but a grounder to the third baseman. He was thrown out by fifteen feet.

When he was walking back off the field, he saw her.

“You must have put the jinx on me,” he said. “I never hit ground balls.”

He stopped about two feet away from her. He looked happy to see her, but wary.

The sun was behind him; she had to put up her hand to shield her eyes as she looked up at him.

“You’ve got a little halo thing going there, Tall Man.”

“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly. “Did you give blood this morning?”

He’d remembered it was her birthday. Her birthday devotions: she gave blood once a year.

She held out her arm for him to see the bruise.

“You’re remarkable.”

“I do it for the cookies.”

The inning was over; he had to get back on the field. She sat on the grass and watched the rest of the game, and then the two of them walked through the park.

“Did you get the invitation to my exhibit?”

“Yes. Thank you. It’s exciting. Are you excited?”

“I am. Were you planning to come?”

“I think so.”

“I’m glad.” He looked, though, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her.

She knew he was happy to see her, but his energy was different.

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