Page 53 of Still Me
“Steven is teaching me to draw. Drawing lessons.”
I blinked. “Okay.”
“Is surprise for Leonard so you must not say anything.”
She didn’t look at me for the whole journey.
—
“You’re late,” said Nathan when I arrived home. He was heading off to play basketball with some friends from his gym, his kit bag slung over his shoulder and a hoodie over his hair.
“Yeah.” I dropped my bag and filled the kettle. I had a carton of noodles in a plastic bag and put them on the counter.
“Been anywhere nice?”
I hesitated. “Just... here and there. You know what she’s like.” I switched on the kettle.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I could feel his gaze on me until I turned and forced a smile. Then he clapped me on the back and turned to head out. “Some days, eh?”
Some days, indeed. I stared at the kitchen worktop. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how to explain the two and a half hours Garry and I had waited in the car for her, my eyes flicking repeatedly up to the light at the obscured window and back to my phone. After an hour Garry, bored of his language tapes, had texted Agnes to say he was being moved on by a parking attendant and she should text him as soon as she needed to go, but she didn’t respond. We drove around the block and he filled the car with fuel, then suggested we get a coffee. “She didn’t say how long she’d be. That usually means she’ll be a coupla hours at least.”
“This has happened before?”
“Mrs. G does as she pleases.”
He bought me a coffee in a near-empty diner, where the laminated menu showed poorly lit photographs of every single dish, and we sat in silence, each monitoring our phones, in case she called, and watching the Williamsburg dusk turn gradually to a neon-lit night. I had moved to the most exciting city on earth, yet some days I felt my life had shrunk: limo to apartment; apartment back to limo.
“So have you worked for the Gopniks for long?”
Garry slowly stirred two sugars into his coffee, screwing up the wrappers in a fat fist. “Year and a half.”
“Who did you work for before?”
“Someone else.”
I took a sip of my coffee, which was surprisingly good. “You never mind it?”
He looked up at me from under heavy brows.
“All the hanging around?” I clarified. “I mean—does she do this often?”
He kept stirring his coffee, his eyes back on his mug. “Kid,” he said, after a minute. “I don’t mean to be rude. But I can see you ain’t been in this business long, and you’ll last a whole lot longer if you don’t ask questions.” He sat back in his chair, his bulk spreading gently across his lap. “I’m the driver. I’m there when they need me. I speak when I’m spoken to. I see nothing, hear nothing, forget everything. That’s why I’ve stayed in this game thirty-two years, and how I’ve put two ungrateful kids through college. In two and a half years, I take early retirement and move to my beach property in Costa Rica. That’s how you do it.” He wiped his nose with a paper napkin, making his jowls judder. “You get me?”
“See nothing, hear nothing...”
“...forget everything. You got it. You want a doughnut? They do good doughnuts here. Make ’em fresh throughout the day.” He got up and moved heavily over to the counter. When he came back he said nothing more to me, just nodded, satisfied, when I told him that, yes, the doughnuts were very good indeed.
—
Agnes said nothing when she rejoined us. After a few minutes, she asked, “Did Leonard call? I accidentally turn my phone off.”
“No.”
“He must be at the office. I will call him.” She straightened her hair, then settled back in her seat. “That was very good lesson. I really feel like I’m learning many things. Steven is very good artist,” she announced.
