Stewart and Jean Read Online Free PDF Page B

some good work on your part, finding a job straight off like that,” she said. It sounded like begrudging praise—but why shouldn’t it be? She’d made no secret of not wanting him to move to New York out of the blue like he had.
    She wanted to hear about the apartment. He tried to keep the details from her, but soon the only way to keep her from knowing that he didn’t have his very own room would have been to lie to her, and it didn’t seem worth doing that. Though if he’d known in advance how horrified she’d be, he might have changed his mind.
    “Do you want me to send you some money?!” she moaned.
    “ No , Mom. Just relax, it’s only for right now at the beginning. Lots of people live this way when they’re just starting off in the city.”
    Then they were quiet for a while. He felt ashamed for having spoken harshly to her. Especially since he knew good and well why it freaked her out for him to be gone.... Gentle as the sound of the fountain was, its genuine presence was almost enough to drown out her distant, tinny voice. He couldn’t help but track the drifting passersby with his eyes, try as he might to concentrate on his mother half the continent away.
    “Well,” she said, for something to say.
    Stewart had an urge to put his hand in the fountain water, but no one else was doing it. Maybe that was prohibited, or maybe the water was dirty. “So,” he said. “How’s Dad?”
    “He’s all right,” she said, sounding annoyed, as if Stewart knew perfectly well that he wasn’t. “He’s asleep right now, or I’d put him on.”
    “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said, relieved.
    There in the brightly-illuminated nighttime city he sat at the fountain and watched the crowds of busy strangers. He thought of his parents, alone in Arkansas, all alone there now that their only surviving son was gone.
    Stewart had resolved to stay on the phone until he felt his duty had been done, but it still felt undone when he got off—he just couldn’t bear to stay on any longer. They said goodbye, they said they loved each other, then they hung up.
    He sat alone and watched the milling crowd with no idea how to mingle in it.
    The next day Charles worked the early shift again, from nine to five, and again Stewart worked from noon to nine. When Stewart arrived Charles said hello and tried to strike up a conversation. He tried to be friendly enough to maintain the exchange and learn about the guy, but he was inhibited from being too friendly by all the stuff he’d heard about him. The conversation didn’t get off the ground.
    On his lunch break Charles went back to Bryant Park. He walked across to Sandwichcraft, even though it was a little pricey for him. Once he had his sandwich he sat near the spot where he’d met Marissa the day before, and idly scanned the park as he ate. He didn’t see her. It was just as well. Ideally, when they met again, he should have something to tell her about that subject that interested her so much.

Five
    Jean called out the day after seeing Stewart downstairs at Temple, and the next morning she was tempted to do so again. But that was crazy. What was she going to do, quit her job? It was absurd to have shot Kevin and moved to New York and still be intimidated by the incident. In comparison to those two steps, taking a bunch of sick days seemed pathetically ineffective.
    At the office she made a point of smiling at everyone and saying hello and being especially cheerful. To polite inquiries after her health, she responded with a wave of her hand and the assurance that it had been nothing. In public Marissa got the same sort of greeting as everyone else, which hurt her feelings some. But when she poked her head into Jean’s cubicle and asked again how she was doing, Jean granted her a wry shrug.
    Something about the way Marissa’s eyes seemed so carefully loaded with concern, about her hushed and serious tone, worried Jean. She saw that Marissa wanted to talk about this stuff. Jean