thinking: who are all these people? The party swelled up with them, some I recognized, others seemed familiar as if from another life. By midnight, it was crowded and chaotic, and I loved it.
âYou collect people, Artie,â Lily Hanes had once said to me. âYou are a wanton collector of friends. Women, but not just women. Promiscuous,â she said, laughing. âIt makes you feel secure, having so many friends and you do things for them, and you ask them for favors and thereâs always a trade-off, isnât there, but you know that, donât you?â I remembered her saying it now, and then someone tugged at my sleeve; it was Millie Crabbe, and I turned to talk to her, and thought to myself: Itâs your wedding, let it all go!
âArtie! Artie, hi! Artemy.â
More people. People speaking English. Russian. People I knew from Brighton Beach, and their children, little kids, kids in their teens who trailed out on the terrace for cigarettes, Millie and Maria, following thebigger girls and looking awestruck by the attention they got. In a pack, they moved outdoors and their laughter seemed to linger in their wake.
The laughter grew. There was a rise in the voices, and the heat from the crowd and the band playing something Brazilian. I was hazy with wine and trying not to think about Sid when I heard a familiar voice.
Ricky Tae.
It was Ricky, wearing a perfect black summer suit, incredibly handsome, smooth and lean, now in his late thirties. He lived upstairs from me. His parents had owned the building, they had helped me buy my loft. We had been close, Ricky and I, but we had somehow drifted apart. He was always on and off planes, always doing business in Asia. I hugged him. I missed him.
âYou got married,â he said. âYou really did it.â He handed me a package wrapped in red paper. âFrom the parents,â he added. âMy pop was too sick to come and my mother wonât leave him. My mother was miserable, though, not being here.â
âI know. I talked to her. Listen, I didnât ask anyone to the ceremony, you know, no one, itâs how Maxine wanted it.â
âDarling, I know that,â he said. âLot of people here,â he added, scanning the room.
âYeah, itâs great.â
Rick hesitated.
âBy the way, is Sid McKay coming?â he finally asked.
I was startled. âWhy?â
âIâm just asking. Youâre friends with Sid, arenât you? Pretty good friends. I thought heâd come to yourwedding. I just thought youâd have asked him. Or maybe your Russian pal, Sverdloff, doesnât like aging faggots.â
âWhatâs with you? Sure I asked Sid. He said he didnât feel like coming into the city. Of course I asked him. I didnât even know Sid was a friend of yours anyhow,â I said.
âIâm sorry. Iâm a little bit drunk.â
âSo you know Sid?â
âYou introduced us.â
âWhat? When? I donât remember that.â
âForget it,â Rick said.
I leaned closer to him.
âListen to me. I saw Sid this morning. He called me, he was worried, there was a guy who died off Red Hook, you know anything about it?â
âNo,â Rick said, making to move away. âHow would I know? I need a drink. Talk to my sister, she came all the way from Hong Kong just for you.â
âDarling, Artie. Congratulations!â
Her face near mine, her hand on my arm, the heavy sexy smell of Joy that she had always worn clung to Dawn Tae.
âDawn.â
âHello, Artie.â
âWe kissed and then she drew back slightly and I saw how much she had aged. The incredible girl Iâd once known was now a middle-aged woman. She glanced around and a waiter appeared with her drink. Dawn was still imperious, a commanding presence.People noticed when she wanted something. She kissed me again.
I smiled at her. âHello, Dawn, I canât
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