The Metropolis Case_ A Novel - Matthew Gallaway [133]
Martin nodded. “What’s funny is that my last memory of you—before today—was after you won that singing competition in Pittsburgh.”
“The Heinz Recitals,” Maria said curtly. “That was another life.”
“My mother was very impressed,” Martin remarked, with a trace of sarcasm that might have annoyed her if he hadn’t immediately followed with a more earnest response. “I went to boarding school with Jay,” he said and cocked an eyebrow at her. “I take it you missed my toast?”
“I was, uh, in the bathroom, I think—you know, smoking crack.”
Martin laughed. “Not that I’m an expert or anything, but from where I sat you sounded incredible—I thought the roof was going to cave in.”
“Thank you very much,” Maria replied as the bartender approached. “Can I get you a drink? It’s on me.”
She liked that Martin seemed to appreciate the joke but also admired a pervasive coolness in his expression that made his smile more genuine. He ordered a whiskey and after receiving it suggested they moved to a nearby table to talk. “So—you live in the city?”
“Yes, I came here after high school,” Maria answered and told him a few things about Juilliard. “I live uptown now—Washington Heights.”
“What’s that like?”
“It’s a challenge.” Maria shrugged. “How about you?”
“East Village—I moved there after college. I was roommates with Jay.”
“So you live in a slum, too—congratulations,” she said. “What do you do down there?”
“I used to be a music writer,” he replied, “but now I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re a lawyer? You don’t look like a lawyer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. “I represent rock bands.” He pulled a card from his wallet and gave it to her.
He drank the rest of his whiskey and then contemplated her with his tranquil eyes. “There’s something I want to tell you …”
“Uh-oh,” Maria said.
He did not hesitate: “My parents are dead, too.”
“What?”
“My parents died, too,” he repeated, but so softly that she could barely make out the words above the music. “Only about five months after yours.”
Unexpected as this was, Maria found it difficult to speak; a sick and spinning weightlessness reminded her of those first months after the fire, and she couldn’t decide if she was too drunk or not drunk enough.
Martin apologized for the abrupt delivery. “I thought it would be unfair not to tell you. I assumed you didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t,” Maria managed as she shook her head. “What—what happened?”
“Car accident. We were driving home from my high school graduation and it was raining and there was construction.” He paused for a second as she listened in disbelief. “A truck skidded out and jack-knifed right in front of them.”
Shocked as much by the story as by its odd proximity to hers, Maria found it difficult to think. There was a part of her that wanted to laugh it off with the flick of her wrist and a suggestion for a stiffer drink, but to do so would have felt too much like a dismissal of her own past, so instead she offered a trembling hand, which he took. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“How could something like that happen—to both of us?” she asked, still gripping his hand. “I mean—how do you explain it?”
“How do you explain anything?” he replied with a subtle aggression that made it easy to believe he was a lawyer. “How do you answer questions like ‘Why was I born?’ or ‘Why am I living in 1989 and not 1889?’ or ‘Why am I in New York City and not East Bumblefuck?’ ”
“I know why I’m here.” Maria laughed uneasily.
“You’re lucky.” He rotated the glass in his hand for a few seconds before he looked up at her with eyes that seemed to flicker as they caught the reflection of candlelight. “Whenever I run into something crazy—something that doesn’t make logical or scientific sense—instead of asking myself ‘How could that have happened?’ I sometimes think the right question is ‘How could that not have happened?’ ” He shrugged. “Is that too much legalese for you?”
Maria slowly shook her head. It actually did make sense, particularly as she considered her impending contract with the Met; of course she had worked for it—and