The Invisible Circus - Jennifer Egan [72]
“Get out of here!”
“Swear to God,” Phoebe said, pleased that Wolf could appreciate the bizarreness of her mother’s choice.
“Well, hey, that’s fantastic,” Wolf said. “If she’s happy, that’s fantastic. And the Bear? What’s old Barry been up to?”
“He’s a millionaire,” Phoebe said, and gave Wolf the short version of her brother’s success.
“Well, there’s some justice for you,” he said, grinning. “I always liked your brother.”
Phoebe was keenly aware that neither one of them had spoken Faith’s name. She wondered whether in Wolf’s eyes she looked as much like her sister as everyone said. She hoped so.
Wolf relaxed, spreading his long arms across the back of the couch. “Phoebe O’Connor,” he said. “I have in my head the most vivid picture of you—outside your house, waving to us as we drove to the airport.”
She laughed, embarrassed. “You remember that?”
“You were barefoot,” Wolf said, a catch in his voice.
Phoebe recalled the absolute stillness that had fallen on the street the moment his truck disappeared, as if everything loud and bright in the world were gone, too, packed away among their sea-shells and bandanas. She’d knelt on the pavement, touching the warm spot where the truck had been, keeping her hand there until the pavement cooled and even after, for many minutes more, until the fog made her teeth chatter.
“Anyway,” Wolf said, “I want to know everything that’s happened to you since.”
Phoebe laughed. “That’s a lot,” she said, though of course it was really so little.
The telephone rang in another room. Wolf went to answer it, and through the open door Phoebe admired his virtuosic German. The language made her picture someone clipping bushes with a pair of oversized shears.
“You sound totally German,” she commended him when he returned to the living room.
Wolf laughed. “I practically am, at this point,” he said. “I’m a legal resident, so I’m allowed to work here and everything. And my fiancee’s German, Carla—that was just her on the phone. So I’ll become a citizen after we’re married.”
“You’re getting married?”
“I am,” Wolf said, hesitant. “We were engaged in March.”
“Wow.” Phoebe felt as if she’d been struck. Her bruised head began to throb.
“It must be tough, hearing that,” Wolf said. “I’m sorry.”
Phoebe nodded and looked at the windows. A hummingbird hovered outside the glass like a giant mosquito.
So Wolf’s life had moved on. The strange thing was not so much that this had happened, Phoebe thought, but that suddenly she knew it. In her mind he’d remained shirtless, sun-soaked, restlessly prowling her thoughts. Now she felt the shame of facing an acquaintance she’d dreamed about, hoping he wouldn’t read it in her face.
“How did you end up in Germany?” she asked.
Wolf resumed his seat beside her on the couch. He’d never really gone back to the U.S., he explained, had stayed here illegally for years, working in restaurants, factories. He’d studied German at Berkeley for his biochemistry major, so he spoke the language.
“You dropped out of Berkeley, right?” Phoebe asked. “To go to Europe with Faith?”
There. Her sister’s name filled the room. Phoebe wanted to say it again, yell it out.
“Yeah,” Wolf said. “I loathed America then. I was dying to escape.”
But the name had done its work. A respectful silence descended over them.
“Anyway, I’m a translator now,” Wolf concluded. “Mostly technical stuff, brochures, annual reports for companies doing business in the States. Lot of drug companies, so the biochem wasn’t a total waste. Actually comes in pretty handy.”
“So everything’s worked out great,” Phoebe said ruefully.
Wolf knocked twice on the coffee table, as if hearing this made him nervous. Or maybe he just felt guilty, parading his happiness.
“Oh, I forgot,” Phoebe said, fumbling in her purse for her wallet. “I was supposed to give this to Steven Lake. From Kyle.”
She pried the pink joint from the crease in her wallet. It was bent and smudged from the long trip. Wolf took it, smiling at its condition. “We’ll save it for Steve,” he