A Visit From the Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan [101]
As usual, a hush enclosed the crowd in the last few seconds before the sun slipped away. Even Cara-Ann, in Rebecca’s arms, went still. Alex felt the lees of sunlight on his face and closed his eyes, savoring its faint warmth, his ears full of the slosh of a passing ferry. The moment the sun had gone, everyone moved suddenly, as if a spell had broken. “Down,” said Cara-Ann, and took off along the Waterwalk. Rebecca ran after her, laughing. Alex swiftly checked his handset.
JD nEds 2 thnk
Yep frm Sancho
Cal: no f-way
At each response, he experienced an alloy of emotions that had become familiar in the course of one afternoon: triumph marbled with scorn at the yeses, disappointment with an updraft of admiration at the nos. He was just beginning to type a response when he heard stamping feet, then his daughter’s longing cry: “Lolllllllli-POP!” Alex flicked the handset away, but it was too late: Cara-Ann was tugging at his jeans. “Mine dat,” she said.
Rebecca sidled over. “So. That’s the lollipop.”
“Apparently.”
“You let her use it?”
“One time, okay?” But his heart was racing.
“You just changed the rules, all by yourself?”
“I didn’t change them, I slipped. Okay? Am I allowed to have one goddamn slip?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Alex felt her studying him. “Why now?” she asked. “Today, after all this time—I don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to get!” Alex barked, but he was thinking: How does she know? And then: What does she know?
They stood, eyeing each other in the expiring light. Cara-Ann waited quietly, the lollipop apparently forgotten. The Waterwalk was nearly empty. It was time to tell Rebecca about the deal with Bennie—now, now!—but Alex felt paralyzed, as if the disclosure had already been poisoned. He had a crazy wish to T Rebecca, even found himself mentally composing the message: Nu job in th wrks—big $ pos. pls kEp opn mind.
“Let’s go,” Rebecca said.
Alex lifted Cara-Ann back into the sling, and they descended the water wall into darkness. As they made their way through the gloomy streets, Alex found himself thinking of the day he and Rebecca had met. After trying and failing to run down the wolf-headed purse snatcher, Alex had coaxed her out for beers and burritos, then had sex with her on the roof of her building on Avenue D, to escape her three roommates. He hadn’t known Rebecca’s last name. And in that moment, without warning, Alex abruptly recalled the name of the girl who had worked for Bennie Salazar: Sasha. It came to him effortlessly, like a door falling open. Sasha. Alex held the name carefully in his mind, and sure enough, the first intimations of memory followed it skittishly into the light: a hotel lobby; a small, overwarm apartment. It was like trying to remember a dream. Had he fucked her? Alex figured he must have—nearly all those early dates had concluded with sex, hard as this was to fathom from his communal bed awash in the smell of baby flesh and a chemical tinge of biodegradable diaper. But Sasha refused to give ground on the question of sex; she seemed to wink at him (green eyes?) and slip away. u herd th nUs? Alex read on his handset late one night, as he sat in his usual spot by the window.
yup i herd
The “news” was that Bennie had moved the Scotty Hausmann concert outdoors, to the Footprint, a change that would require more outreach from Alex’s blind parrots (for no additional pay) so that any potential concertgoers would know where to go.
Bennie had told Alex about the venue change earlier, on the phone: “Scotty’s not wild about enclosed spaces. I’m thinking he might be happier out in the open.” It was the most recent in an onslaught of escalating demands and special needs. “He’s a solitary person” (Bennie, explaining Scotty’s need for a trailer). “He has a hard time with conversation” (why Scotty refused to do interviews). “He hasn’t spent much time with children” (why Scotty might be troubled by “pointer noise”). “He’s wary of technology” (why Scotty refused