CHAPTER 33 STEADY AS SHE GOES
STEADY AS SHE GOES
Phoenix
“Do you want me to calculate the chances of you laughing at me before we arrive at the Marquis?” Rina asked from the back of the car.
“One hundred percent?” Phoenix said.
She followed him into the theater. First time in a crowd on a custom-made stilt made him feel vulnerable. “Think I need a second crutch,” he said, putting his left arm around her.
“Would you like sparkling water or something?” he asked at the concessions stand.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to have to go to the bathroom during the performance.”
Which, of course, elicited guffaws of laughter from Phoenix.
Clutching both Playbill programs, Rina followed Phoenix to their seats, located stage right. A young couple slouched in two seats adjacent to theirs. The woman looked at Phoenix’s cane and stepped into the aisle, pulling the guy with her.
“Sorry,” she said. Phoenix followed her stare down toward his feet.
“It’s okay,” he mumbled. When did the aisles get so damn narrow? And he had never noticed the slant before.
He managed to land in the upholstery, not on the ground. The older gentleman on the other side touched his elbow.
“Thank you for your service. Were you in Iraq? Or Afghanistan?”
“Neither. This was just a bad accident.”
The man’s wife craned her neck towards them. “Frank served in Vietnam. He always wants to make sure our military are appreciated, unlike the Vietnam vets.”
“Well, then, thank you for your service.” Phoenix leaned forward to lay his cane beneath his and Rina’s seats.
“What happened? If I may ask?”
“You know that exhibition of mechanical dinosaurs they’ve built over in Jersey?” he asked the couple.
The wife put a hand over her mouth. “You don’t mean?” her voice trailed off, her expression reflecting some imagined horror.
Rina smacked his arm.
The theater dimmed. Phoenix turned to face front.
The stage lights shone to reveal a minimalist set: a blood-red sofa, plain table with hard-backed chairs and a Ming dynasty porcelain dog.
Three characters played out a love triangle, where each party pined for an impossible relationship.
The girl’s heart belonged to her best guy friend, who mainly hung around to be with her roommate.
The roommate, in turn, was in love with the girl.
“Unrequited love. That sucked,” Phoenix joked as the final curtain fell. He pushed to a standing position.
The Vietnam vet extended a hand, forcing Phoenix to tuck his cane under his left elbow to grasp it.
“You’re a nice-looking couple.” The veteran’s wife twisted around the guys to tell Rina.
“Thanks,” she returned, smoothing her ash-shaded suit.
They shuffled out into the street with the crowd, his left arm around her. The driver awaited them curbside, as planned.
In the back of the car, Rina leaned against him.
“So, how’d you like your first show?”
“It was an experience. Artsy. Live theater is definitely different than a movie.”
They arrived at her rented brownstone on a quiet street. Phoenix pulled himself out of the car to accompany Rina to the door and kissed her cheek.
“Wouldn’t things be easier without that cane?” she asked.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
She turned to him. “Next time, it’s my turn to take you to a hockey game.”
The next weekend, they sat bundled in coats just behind the protective glass at Madison Square Garden’s ice rink. Phoenix swigged beer from a plastic cup.
“This place is packed,” Rina noted, swiveling her head to take in the crowd of thousands in the arena.
“Did you know the Knicks play basketball here?”
“On ice?”
“That’d be a sight, but no. Stadiums have some high-tech floor that they disassemble between sports. Sometimes they get a double header and have to change right from one to the other.”
“That’s inventive.”
After a particularly vicious goal and a loud shout of approval from Rina, Phoenix turned to her. “This is fun.”
“Yup, Canadian actuaries are a laugh a minute.”
He downed the rest of the beer and put his hand up for another one, then turned to her. “You know, it’s only fair to let you know that it’s not just my arm that was injured—I’m a double-amputee.” Despite the alcohol-induced buzz, Phoenix was gripped by a sudden reluctance to see her reaction.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“You mean you already knew?”
“Yeah. Your mom filled me in pretty good. Why?”
“Well, doesn’t it matter to you?”
“Nope.” She stood to shout at the referee then sat and turned to Phoenix. “Did you see how unfair that call was?”
“Yeah, totally unfair.”
“You’re not even watching the game.”
“And you don’t even care about my leg.”
“Um, you know, actuaries don’t make great therapists. Are you having a PTSD moment or something?”
He nearly choked laughing, floored by her lack of compunction over the thing he thought would be deal-breaking for any woman.
“This game is totally wasted on you,” Rina said.
They shared an uber home that night. He told her about his new account. “So, the VP says that he’s choosing between us and one of the Big Four ad agencies. And I tell him that going boutique gives you individualized service, fresh thinking and breakthrough creativity.”
Rina nodded.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“I cannot believe we lost. That was brutal.”
“Yea, brutal,” he echoed. “So, we find out next week if we won the pitch.”
“Who wouldn’t hire you?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She stared out the window. “Did you want to talk about your leg or something?” she asked.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
She said goodbye with an admonition that he’d have to try harder to take the game seriously if he wanted to attend more hockey matches. Then, she put a hand on his forearm, before exiting the car. “Next time, you’ll have to come up to my place.”
At home, as Phoenix contemplated Rina, his mind drifted to Orchid. He shook his head. If only Orchid could be as nonchalant over his injuries. . . .