1200 PM Mia #2
Mia’s phone buzzed again: a nervous-looking emoji from Lev, followed by a flurry of texts.
Lev Archaki: oh god
Lev Archaki: Im so sorry
Lev Archaki: I thought thats what young people do?????
Lev Archaki: pls don’t tell the NY Post
“What’s that sound?” Adam asked.
“He’s texting me.”
“What’s he saying?”
“He’s apologizing for sending the dick pic. He said that’s what he thought young people do.”
“Oh my God, Mia, he called you young.”
“I know.”
“You have to send him a picture now.”
“I’m aware.”
“Text me options if you need help deciding.”
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“Well, in that case, good luck.”
It took her half an hour. The lighting was always wrong, and the angle always wonky.
Each time she looked at the phone’s screen, she saw a new wrinkle or spot betraying her age.
How was Lev, who was fifty, able to fire one off so readily?
How did he not care that his hand was curved like a claw, and there were gray hairs sprouting all over his thighs?
Eventually she managed to take a picture that was serviceable, or that at least didn’t cause her to squirm violently.
Then, after trying every single one of her phone’s filters on it, she held one hand over her mouth and pressed send.
Four minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
A thick white cloud passed before the sun.
The grocery store’s parking lot was filled with BMWs, Audis, Porsches, Maseratis.
Ten yards away, Mia saw the two women from the pasta aisle, filling the trunk of a Range Rover with bags of groceries, their arms tan and taut in their polos. Lev put his arm around her shoulders.
“I already forgot where we parked,” he said.
Mia pointed to the far corner of the parking lot. “We’re over there.”
A week ago they’d discussed renting a car for the weekend.
It was the end of summer—neither of them wanted to deal with crowds on the train—and Lev said he could get a discount on something nice through work.
Mia had imagined a convertible. She’d seen herself driving across Long Island, the breeze kissing her cheeks.
She would wrap her hair beneath a scarf, and large sunglasses she didn’t own would obscure half her face.
But this morning Lev had showed up in a giant SUV that looked like it was meant to rove the moon, or invade Iraq.
Standing outside her apartment, Mia had smiled and waved; she’d stuffed her scarf in her bag, and tried to stop calculating the car’s carbon footprint.
As gamely as she could she asked Lev if she could drive.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said. “This is too big a car for such a little lady.”
Mia pressed her lips together. But then Lev laughed and took her bag. He walked her around to the passenger side, and made a show of opening the door.
Now she rolled down the window, setting her elbow on its sill.
There was no wind—they were going three miles an hour, inching along with an endless gnarl of traffic toward Amagansett.
Along the sides of the road she saw miniature versions of the same stores she knew from the city, Ralph Lauren and Theory and Lululemon.
Outside them were women in caftans, sandals, sun hats, large straw bags hanging from their arms. Small dogs baking in the heat, children eating ice cream, teenage girls wearing bikini tops and white denim shorts.
Sweat beaded on Mia’s forehead. She removed the top from an old cup of cold brew, then slid some of its melted ice into her mouth.
“Remind me what I’m getting into,” Lev said.
“We’ve been through this, like, four times. They’re some old friends from college.”
“I know.” He reached his hand behind her neck and squeezed it. “But I’m old and senile. Humor me.”
The car inched forward. Lev braked abruptly and Mia’s head lurched forward.
“So, I’m not totally sure who all’s going to be there, but I can tell you the people who matter.”
“I only ever want to know the people who matter.”
“Well, it’s Richie’s birthday. That’s who we bought the cake for.”
“And he’s the mess—”
“Was the mess? I guess we’ll see. And you’ve met Adam.”
“I think so.”
“You have. We had dinner with him in Williamsburg two months ago.”
“Ah, yes. Gay, dead parents, works at a law firm.”
“Did work at a law firm. He just started a new job as counsel at the Robin Hood Foundation.”
“Why on earth would he do that?” Again Lev braked suddenly. The seat belt tightened across Mia’s chest, cutting into her skin.
“Who else will be there?”
“Sasha.”
“Have I met Sasha?”
Mia tried to remember, placing Lev and Sasha at various dinner tables and bars together, but found she was unable to. Now that she thought about it, she was having a difficult time recalling the last time she saw Sasha too.
“No,” she said, “I don’t think you have. But listen, Sasha is married to Theo, and they have a little boy named Ethan.”
“There are going to be children there?”
“Yes. Wait, there’s Windmill Lane—I think you want to turn left.” Mia looked at the small blue dot gliding along the screen of her phone. “You’re going to take this to Town Lane, then make a right and take Town Lane to Stony Hill Road.”
“Okay.”
Lev flipped on the turn signal. The car began chiming.
Then he said: “Children require a different kind of preparation.”
Lev made the left onto Windmill Lane and the road opened up.
Then he adjusted the turn signal again and the chiming stopped.
A minute passed—they were both quiet. For the first time since they’d left the grocery store Mia felt the breeze in her face.
She reached down to scan the radio, landing on Cardi B’s “I Like It,” which had begun playing at the beginning of the summer and since then hadn’t stopped, haunting her in bodegas and bars and via Spotify’s algorithm, searing its lyrics into her brain.
Cardi said, “I run this shit like cardio”; Mia crossed and recrossed her legs. Lev cleared his throat. The car hit a divot in the road and he turned up the stereo’s volume before taking hold of Mia’s hand.