15

NOW

Maxie found the baby mice under the sink just two days later. There were four of them. Four of the tiniest animals she'd ever seen. Hairless, and vulnerable, and motionless. "Are they dead?" Van asked, peering over Maxie's shoulder.

Maxie stared down at them. Poor little babies. "Yes," she said.

"Throw them out," Van said.

"Van!"

"What? They're dead rodents!"

"What's going on?" Isaac asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Maxie found mice under the sink!"

"They're babies," said Maxie.

"They're dead," said Van. "They might be diseased, Max. Throw them away."

She stared down at the tiny animals a moment before standing. "I'll bury them," she decided. "In the garden on the roof."

Van rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious."

Nodding, Maxie made her way to her bedroom to find a shoebox for them. "Funeral at one PM sharp!" she called.

 

When Charlie made it up to the roof of Maxie's building, he let out a long, exhausted sigh. "This better be fucking good, kid. Dragging me all the way up here."

"Actually, Charlie—" Maxie said, leading him to the garden where only Gnar stood. She stopped short. "Where's everyone else?"

Gnar frowned. "There isn't anyone else, Max. People don't usually attend rat funerals."

"Attend what?" Charlie cried, spinning around to face her. "You dragged me all the way up here for what?"

Ignoring Charlie, Maxie looked at her watch. "Well, we are a little early. Maybe they're on their way up."

"I doubt it," Gnar replied.

Deflated, Maxie turned to Charlie only to find he wasn't standing beside her anymore, but heading back toward the exit. "Hey!" she called, hurrying to catch him. "Where are you going?"

"Home!" he shot back. "A rat funeral? What does that even mean?"

"Van found some baby rats next to the refrigerator," she explained. "Their mother left them there a few days ago, and they died. They were orphans, Charlie."

"What the hell's that got to do with me?" he demanded.

"I just wanted to give them a proper burial."

"They're fucking rodents! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sighing, she lowered her eyes. "They had no one, Charlie."

Rolling his eyes, he huffed and turned back to join Gnar in front of the garden. Maxie waited for Bea, Isaac, and Van a little while longer before finally accepting they weren't coming. Gnar and Charlie watched—Gnar amused, Charlie annoyed—as Maxie kneeled in the soil of the garden and carefully placed the tiny creatures there to rest. She even closed her eyes and said a prayer before shoveling the dirt on top of them.

Once their bodies were gone beneath the dirt, they were silent for a moment.

"One day," Maxie said, at last, "I'm going to die without any family, too. But at least they had each other."

Gnar and Charlie exchanged glances.

"Hey, kid, it's time for me to take my meds," Charlie said. "Get me the hell off of this."

Maxie nodded and stood. Stealing one last glance at the tiny grave, she followed Gnar and Charlie to the exit.

 

In front of his apartment, Charlie shook Gnar's hand. "Thanks again for the ride, young man," he said.

"No, problem, sir," Gnar replied politely. Maxie had enjoyed the ride back to Charlie's. She sat in the back of Gnar's car while he and Charlie sat in front, chatting about sports, and traveling, and politics, and even Charlie's son, Mr. Woodson.

"How often's he in the gym?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not often, I bet."

Gnar shrugged. "Often enough, I guess."

"Does he lift weights? Real weights, I mean, not those pansy twenty-pounders. You know when I was his age, I could bench my own body weight."

"That's pretty impressive," Gnar said with a laugh.

"How 'bout you?" Charlie asked him, eyeing Gnar's muscular arm as he held the steering wheel.

"Me? Oh, I stick to those aforementioned twenty-pounders."

At that, they'd both laughed loudly.

"Are you sure you don't want to come up for a drink?" Charlie asked. "I have sixty-five-year-old brandy. That stuff ain't for the pussies."

"Gnar can't drink, Charlie, he has to drive home," Maxie interjected.

Charlie frowned. "Look at the size of the man! He can handle a drink or two!"

"Maybe another time," Gnar said. "Definitely another time."

Nodding, Charlie said goodbye again and started for the lobby of his building.

"I'll be here waiting," Gnar told Maxie.

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I can just hop on the train home."

"I'll be waiting, Max," he said.

She knew there would be no convincing him otherwise, so she hurried to get Charlie upstairs. "Hey, hey, what's the rush?" he asked as she jabbed at the elevator button impatiently. "In a hurry to get back to him, huh?"

Maxie rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. He's only driving me home."

"Mm hmm," Charlie said, still eyeing her skeptically.

"Anyway, thanks again for coming, Charlie. I hope you had a good time." She shook her head. "I still can't believe Van and Isaac didn't show."

"It was a fucking rat funeral," Charlie snapped.

"So what. They could've come. It isn't like the service didn't take place just an elevator ride away from them."

"And yet that Gnar fellow came all the way from Brooklyn, huh?"

"He came from downtown," Maxie corrected. "Don't give him any more credit than he deserves, Charlie."

Charlie shrugged. "Hey, he deserves some credit. You're not giving him any."

Before Maxie could reply, the elevator door slid open. Charlie stepped on but stopped her as she tried to move in behind him. "I think I can make it on my own, kid. Don't keep him waiting."

"He can wait," Maxie said, stubbornly.

"Hey!" Charlie snapped. "Stop being an asshole and get out there!"

Sighing, Maxie smiled and quickly dropped a peck on Charlie's cheek before stepping out of the elevator. "See you later, Charlie."

She stood and watched as the doors slid shut but Charlie jammed his cane in between them before they could meet. "Oh, and kid," he said. "You've got a decent enough guy waiting out there for you right now. Yours for the taking. And I'm sure he ain't the only one. Enough with the dying alone stuff, alright? It's fucking depressing."

With a grin, Maxie nodded and hurried back to Gnar when Charlie disappeared behind the elevator door.

 

"He's a real character," Gnar said as they made their way back to her apartment. "I bet he gives his son a hell of a time."

Maxie chuckled. "He absolutely does. I almost feel bad for the young Mr. Woodson."

"Don't. He is an asshole. I'd take Charlie over his son any day of the week."

"Maybe we can all have dinner with him sometime," Maxie suggested. "I mean, for Charlie's sake. He'd probably really enjoy that. I could invite Milla, the woman he likes."

Gnar raised an eyebrow. "Charlie has a girlfriend?"

Laughing, Maxie replied, "No. He likes her, though. And she likes him, too. Sometimes he tells me about his wife. About how much he loved her and how well they fit. He thought he would never find anyone as perfect for him again, and then he finds Milla. She balances him out completely, you know. Soft enough to balance out his roughness. Imagine that. Finding true love again at his age."

"Does it give you hope?" Gnar asked.

She looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

With a tight grin, he shrugged. "You know. That you can find true love twice."

"Why would I need to hope that?"

"I don't know, Max. Do you need to hope that?" Without waiting for her to reply, he said, "Anyway, my answer is yes to the double date."

"It won't be a date."

He chuckled, shaking his head at her obstinacy. "You know, between rat funerals and your cute relationship with a lonely old man and his girlfriend, I must say, you're pretty unpredictable."

"I could say the same about you," she replied, turning up the volume of his radio. Classical music blared from the speakers. "Chopin?" she asked.

He grinned. "You're familiar."

"Familiar enough."

"Then you can appreciate this," he said. "Why do you smoke, Maxie?"

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know I smoke?"

Looking at the road, he shrugged. "I saw you the night of Isaac's surprise party. I was watching you."

"Creepy."

With a grin, he repeated, "Why do you smoke?"

"To get high," she replied.

"Why do you get high?"

"Because I like the feeling," she said.

He nodded and turned the radio up louder, as loud as it would go. She looked at him, puzzled. "Close your eyes," he instructed. "Go ahead. Lean back and close your eyes." Reluctantly, she did.

She could hear nothing but the stroke of the piano keys, harder sometimes, softer others, always melodic and graceful. After just a moment, it seemed to carry her away. Out of the car, out of the city, off to nowhere. She floated there for a while, suspended in nothingness.

She didn't even realize they'd turned down her street, she didn't even notice when the car came to a complete stop. She remained there, her eyes shut, her mind adrift. Finally, the music stopped.

"Hey!" Maxie cried.

Gnar was grinning. "You're home."

She blinked, a bit dazed, and peered around. Sure enough, they were sitting in front of her building. "Oh," she said.

"You know, you don't have to go upstairs if you don't want," he said. "I could show you something."

"Show me what?" she asked. He smiled and turned the car back on, and they were off.

 

"Ah, very clever," Maxie said as they arrived at Gnar's apartment building. "The least you could do is take me to dinner first."

Gnar threw back his head and laughed. "I've been trying to take you to dinner for months," he reminded her.

Gnar's apartment was the only one on the ground floor of the building. When he led her inside, Maxie took in the large space. It was like two of her and Van's apartments, only completely open. His kitchen, his living room, the dining room area were separated by nothing but furniture and more space. The only closed rooms were the small bedroom and bathroom.

"Wow," Maxie said, gazing around the place breathlessly. Gnar's dwelling was the complete opposite of Isaac's. It was bigger, darker, and filled with character. Paintings and photographs decorated the walls, each piece of furniture was different from the rest. Hanging bookshelves lined the tops of walls, full to capacity, and there were dozens of shelves with all kinds of odds and ends on them, gadgets, knickknacks, random assortments. Everywhere Maxie's eyes went, there was something to look at, something she'd missed before.

Gnar stood by the door and watched her as she made his way around the room, carefully running her fingers over everything, taking it all in. And then she spotted the piano. Big and old yet shiny and cared for, sitting at the corner of the dining room. Her eyes widened and she gazed at him. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" she asked. He nodded. "Wow," she said, caressing the keys. "It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"It came with the place," he said. "It was the only thing in here when I moved in. It was pretty beat up, though. Dusty and out of key. Looks good as new though, now, doesn't it?"

"It does," she agreed. "Do you play?"

His smiled widened and he made his way across the room to her. "Let's do this properly, shall we?" he said, stepping right up to her. He paused and for a moment they simply stood there, Maxie staring up at him, waiting. Waiting for what? She was afraid of the answer. Finally, he bent and gently lifted her atop the piano, pausing again between her legs. "There," he said, his voice hoarse. Unable to take her eyes off of him, she watched as he turned and lowered himself down on the stool.

She waited a moment, and just when she thought he would start, he didn't. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything," she replied before her brain could even process the question.

He grinned at her. "The next time you decide to smoke, just listen to this first, alright? If it doesn't help, then by all means, do what you have to do."

She nodded. "Alright."

He, too, nodded, and then he began to play. Maxie watched him in awe; his fingers moved swiftly and fluidly across the keys and the music flowed from the instrument so gracefully, so beautifully. Gnar bowed his head, his eyes drifted shut, he rocked back and forth, back and forth. He lost himself in the notes, much the same way Maxie had once lost herself dance.

Climbing down off of the piano, Maxie kicked off her shoes and made her way to the middle of room, where she began to dance. She let the music wrap itself around her, flow through her, move her. Soon, Gnar was watching her as intently as she'd watched him, and she was watching him back, her eyes falling back on him after every step, every leap, every twirl.

At last, the music slowed to a stop and Maxie followed suit, concluding her impromptu routine with a small bow. Smiling, Gnar stood to applaud her. "Encore," he said.

"Ditto," she replied, lowering her eyes as her cheeks reddened.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her again, so close she could smell his cologne. He raised his finger to her cheek and lightly pinched it. "You're beautiful," he said.

Suddenly she felt that familiar shortness of breath, that lurch of her stomach, that palpitation of her heart. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt it for anyone but Isaac; she didn't think she ever had.

Taking a step back, she said, "I should probably be getting home now."

Biting down on his bottom lip, he stared at her a moment longer before saying, "Or you can stay."

She lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head. "No. I can't."

 

"He has this great apartment," Maxie told Bea later that night. She stood over the stove holding her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stirred a pot of boiling chicken soup. "It's big and open and filled with all of these amazing things. He collects everything," she said. "And he played the piano for me. God, Bea, he plays it so well. Watching him was just like... like..." She couldn't find the word to describe the elation she'd felt earlier with Gnar.

"Wow," Bea gushed. "How do you find these men? Maybe I should join Isaac's gym."

Maxie laughed. "I can't believe how much I—" Like him. Want him. "Enjoyed his company," she said. "It's like a part of me feels guilty for enjoying it, you know? A huge part of me. But another part of me is relieved. He just seems like a breath of fresh air."

"So give him a chance, Max."

She sighed. "It just doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean? Everything you just described sounds exactly right."

"I know, but—"

"He's Isaac's best friend."

"Why am I the only one who thinks that matters?"

"Because it doesn't," Bea said firmly. "Maxie, I'm going to try and put this as gently as I possibly can, okay? Isaac doesn't remember. As far as he's concerned, you and him never even happened. Do you understand that?"

Maxie said nothing. She knew this, she already knew it, and still, hearing the words was like a stab in the chest.

"I'm sorry," Bea said. "I know it hurts. But you have to stop punishing yourself, and you have to start moving on. Gnar is a great catch. One hell of a rebound, if I do say so myself."

Sighing, Maxie said, "I know. But you need to understand that even though Isaac doesn't have to live with the memories of what we had, the feelings, the promises..." The love, the happiness, the beauty. The frustration, the torture, guilt. She cleared her throat. "Even though he doesn't have to live with it, Bea," she went on, "I still have to live with it."

Their conversation ended, and Maxie set the phone down beside her. For a moment, she simply stood there, head back, breathing deeply and willing the tears welling behind her eyelids to cease and desist. Finally, she turned around, and there stood Isaac. She jumped, slapping her hand over chest. Her heart nearly jumped out of it and into her palm. "Isaac!" she cried. "You scared me."

But he said nothing and just stood there. His gaze unblinking, locked on her.

 

That night, as Maxie gathered her wooden box to climb out onto the fire escape, she remembered her promise to Gnar. The promise. The music. His eyes on her, her name passing over the threshold of his full lips. His fingers against the skin of her cheek.

Setting the box back down, she grabbed her computer instead, pulled up the same song Gnar had played for her earlier, and played it as loud as it would go in her ear buds.

Noelle grabs the keys of her husband's 1973 Porsche. It's his most prized possession, even more prized than her, she suspects. It sits in the garage, undisturbed except for the rare occasions when he takes it for short drives.

Shaking the keys in front of her daughter, Noelle smiles wickedly. 'Want to take a ride, Maximilienne?'

With wide eyes, Maxie shakes her head. 'We're not allowed to drive daddy's car!' she cries.

'But Daddy's not here,' Noelle says.

'He'll be mad.'

Running her hand through Maxie's curls, Noelle replies, 'Baby, if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around to hear it, does it really make a sound?'