Commuters Read Online Free PDF

smell. A few men were asking for rocks drinks,in lowballs that had a nice pebbly bottom. In the first hour of the reception, Avery had allowed himself to skate a thumb across one, furtively. Then he’d snatched his hand back.
    He’d agreed to go dry, completely, even though drinking had never been the problem—not the main problem, anyway. But here was the truth: he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying that way. He just hadn’t decided that, yet.
    Avery loosened his tie one more centimeter, put a foot up on the abandoned chair next to him, and grinned back at his stepfather, Rich, making his way toward him. Across the empty dance floor, Rich pretended to do a little soft-shoe shuffle. At least he seemed to be enjoying himself, although he usually did, even when Annette was nowhere to be found, as had been the case for much of the reception, now that Avery thought about it. It was a running family joke that Avery took after Rich in that way: easygoing, handy with a joke, as opposed to Annette’s tightly wound energy, or whatever his long-gone “real” father must be like. So this had created a surprising ally for Avery, in the past year and a half, all through Rehab Stint One and then College Take Two and then Live at Home/Look for a Job and then Rehab Redux: This Time We Mean Business. Rich was cool. He’d never tried to bully Avery, or guilt-trip him, or label himself an enabler, or all those other modes Annette cycled through. In fact, it had been Rich who had finally convinced Annette to allow Avery to make this move, last week, from Chicago to New York.
    Actually, maybe he should thank Grandad. Without the old man’s crazy, random decision to move here, of all places, Avery knew Rich and Annette would never have considered letting him come to Manhattan.
    “Time to blow this joint,” Rich said now, emphasizing his own dorkiness. “You need money for the train?”
    “No, I’m good.” Avery actually could have used some cash for the train, but at the moment he was just so thankful that Rich wasn’t bugging him to go back to whatever hotel he and Annette were at, that this alone was worth it. They both paused to watch the band’s drummer, his face flat and tired, lug a beaten black case across the empty dance floor, and whack it against a chair nearby. Rich neatly caught the chair before it toppled over, and the drummer banged his way out a side door, not looking back. Although the bride and groom had left at least an hour ago, more than a few of their geezer friends were still lingering at the tables—out later than you’d expect, Avery thought. What was it now, 8 pm?
    “Mom in the car or something?”
    “Ah. Well, your mom cut out a little early. She’s over at the hotel now. She wanted me to see if you’ve changed your mind about staying the night…there’s that brunch thing—and we don’t fly out until three.”
    “That’s okay.”
    “Well, consider my duty discharged,” Rich said, with a little salute. Avery was so grateful for this, his stepfather’s implicit trust. For not pushing it, or grilling him on— who? where? what next? —the exact circumstances of his patched-together New York life, which would be one week old tomorrow. It must be a guy thing, Avery thought. Or maybe Rich just knew the truth: that Avery himself didn’t know much yet about how it all would go down, this move. Apartment, job, all that.
    “So what’s the deal with the husband? Cancer, or something?” Avery nodded at Bob Brigham, over by the foyer, talking loudlyto a few of those older guys whose wives stood by, holding coats over their arms. Bob had his back to where he and Rich were sitting, and his cue-ball-smooth bald head was almost as wild as that twisting helix of a scar, pink and raised and lumpy, that ran down the back of his head and disappeared under his collar.
    “Nope—took a bad fall, is what I heard. Guy’s lucky, that’s for sure.” Rich jingled coins in his pocket but made no move to