Uptown Girl. Olivia Goldsmith

‘We better get back in there. The coffee ought to wake up Brice. Would you fill the creamer?’ Kate nodded. Elliot popped the chocolate sauce for the profiteroles into the microwave to heat.

      Kate opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in. ‘Hey, Elliot, I’ve told you before. It isn’t easy to find a good, interesting, educated stable man who doesn’t want to date a supermodel.’

      ‘You may be right, Kate,’ Elliot agreed. ‘I certainly don’t think you’ll find him in the Sub-Zero. But you could take out the profiteroles.’

      ‘Very funny.’ Kate pulled a quart of milk and a pint of half-and-half out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. ‘I admit you didn’t see him at his best. Trust me. Michael is much better one on one.’

      ‘I bet.’ Elliot smirked.

      Kate ignored his innuendo. ‘No. Honestly. Evidence. He can be funny. And he’s really smart. He got his doctorate at twenty-one, was teaching at Barnard when he was twenty-four and is considering his post-doc. I think he’s going to get tenure at Columbia.’

      ‘I didn’t ask for his curriculum vitae,’ Elliot snapped. ‘He’s just dull. Your father was an alcoholic and you never knew what to expect when he came home. Your mother died before you hit puberty. I know you want a responsible male, someone you can depend on. But this guy isn’t just stable, he’s inert. Where’s the magic between you? And he’s not nearly good enough for you. Don’t let your snobbishness over academic achievement blind you.’

      ‘I don’t,’ she assured him, but a nagging voice in the back of her consciousness wondered about that. Despite all her professional training and the analysis she herself had been required to undergo, she still sometimes felt that much of what she did was a reaction to the desperate childhood she’d had.

      Elliot shrugged, turned around quickly in order to pick up the tray of coffee cups, and knocked over Kate’s purse which had been sitting on the counter.

      ‘There goes my cell phone,’ Kate said.

      ‘Is it the Havilland?’ Brice called.

      ‘No. It’s the Melmac,’ Elliot yelled. ‘He’s obsessed with the damn stuff,’ he told her. ‘Be right in, sweetheart.’

      Then he knelt down to pick up Kate’s handbag and all the objects that had scattered over the floor. ‘I’m so sorry. I think I broke your makeup mirror.’

      ‘Uh oh. It was a magnifying one. So do I have fourteen years of bad luck, or just seven years of more intense bad luck?’

      ‘Stop it, Kate. I’m a statistician, a mathematician, not a superstitious bumpkin.’

      ‘But you talk about magic …’

      ‘Not Harry Potter magic. Not superstitious nonsense. I’m talking about magic between two people.’

      ‘Need any help?’ Brice called. ‘We’re waiting out here.’

      ‘No, dear,’ Elliot responded. He handed Kate her purse. Kate, kneeling beside him, picked up the remainder of the detritus and threw it in.

      ‘Hey, what’s this?’ Elliot asked. Kate looked up. He was waving an envelope in the air.

      ‘It’s an invite to Bunny’s wedding.’ Kate sighed.

      ‘Bunny of the Bitches of Bushwick is getting married?’ Elliot asked. ‘When did this happen? You never tell me anything.’

      ‘Hey, I got it today. And you’re on a need-to-know basis.’ Kate stood up. ‘Can you believe it? She was just dumped by a guy a month ago. I don’t know where this came from.’

      ‘Brooklyn. And on the rebound,’ Elliot said. ‘Can I go? Please, can I go?’

      ‘No,’ Kate replied. ‘See, this is another valid reason why I shouldn’t break up with Michael. With Bina getting engaged and now this, I have to go with someone viable.’

      ‘But Michael is so …’ Elliot didn’t get a chance to finish his critique because, suddenly, a loud and frantic pounding came from the front door of the apartment. ‘What in the world?’

      The two of them hurried into the living room where Brice was standing at the door. He looked at Elliot and Elliot shrugged. Brice opened the door. A woman, her hair wild, her face covered by her hands, threw herself into the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone stood in silent amazement and Brice actually took two steps back. It was only after a moment or two that Kate saw the woman’s fingernails and realized, with a horrible shudder, that she had a French manicure.

      ‘Bina!’ Kate gasped. ‘Oh, Bina! What’s happened to you?’

       7

      Bina looked around her wildly. ‘Katie! Ohmigod. Oh, Katie!’ Then she threw herself onto the sofa and heaved with sobs. Kate, paralyzed for a moment, stepped forward and put her hand gently on Bina’s shoulder. Could she have been raped? Had someone mugged her? Her clothes were such a mess and her hair so disheveled that, at first, Kate only thought of physical tragedies.

      Elliot stood looking down at the weeping woman on his couch. ‘It’s Bina?’ he whispered. ‘This is the famous Bina?’

      Kate ignored him. ‘Bina? Bina dear, what’s happened?’

      Bina shook her head violently. Kate actually felt one of Bina’s tears hit her own cheek and put her arms around her sobbing friend. ‘Shhh,’ she crooned and stroked Bina’s hair. Somehow all the times Kate had witnessed Bina’s hysterical outbursts over the years, at sleepovers and parties, flashed in a visceral way through her consciousness. Kneeling, with her arms around Bina, was familiar. Then she looked up and remembered the audience of three men surrounding this drama. And that the drama was happening in Manhattan on a borrowed sofa. She hoped the whole thing wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Then a new thought occurred to her. ‘Bina, how did you find me here?’

      ‘Max,’ Bina said, struggling with her tears. ‘He heard me crying in the hall and told me where you were.’ She took a gulping breath and burst into tears again. Elliot and Brice drew closer to the couch, like rubberneckers, while Michael had withdrawn to a spot behind the dining table. Kate couldn’t help but think that she was watching the epitomes of men: the straight ones retreating in the face of emotional turmoil and the gay ones jumping right in.

      She looked back down at her friend. ‘Bina, what’s happened?’ Kate asked again.

      ‘Choked,’ Bina wailed as fresh tears poured from her eyes.

      ‘Are you choking?’ Kate asked, confused.

      ‘I can do the Heimlich. Does she need the Heimlich?’ Brice asked, a bit too hopefully.

      Bina, still sobbing, violently shook her head no.

      ‘I never get to do the Heimlich,’ Brice sighed. ‘Do you?’ he asked, turning to Michael, who was now folding and unfolding a napkin, obviously completely unnerved by the situation.

      It was unnerving to anyone who didn’t know Bina, but Kate had witnessed many a hysterical outburst like this before, once over the dress Bina’s mother had selected for the prom. Now Kate took Bina’s hands in her own and spoke to her firmly but gently. ‘Who choked? Who’s choking, Bina?’ She turned to Elliot. ‘Would you please get her a glass of water?’

      Elliot, turning to Brice, repeated the request. ‘Brice, get her a glass of water. This is better than One Life to Live.’

      Brice didn’t budge. ‘One Life to Live? This is better than The Young and the Restless.’ He turned to Michael, still in the corner behind the table. ‘Put down the linen,’ Brice told him. ‘You get the water.’

      Michael seemed all too happy to leave the scene and disappeared