was pretty easy, stripping the place. All I left behind was some stuff in the closet. Way before my rent advance ran out, Margo would find some excuse to stick her nose in.
The weather report said tomorrow was going to be in the nineties. Swell time to be going to Florida.
I waited until the husband’s car pulled off. He drove a big white Lexus, and he was real careful with it, always checking when he backed out of the driveway. I didn’t want him to look up one day and see the shades move, so I just poked a tiny hole in one of them with an ice pick. I could see out fine.
When I was sure, I packed the trunk of my car like I was going away for a long time.
She came outside while I was stowing away the last of my stuff. Leaned over the rail and looked down, putting on a show.
“I think I’ll start working out anyway. You think that’s a good idea?”
“Like I said, the way you can tell, if it makes you feel better.”
“And, like I said before, all that matters is that you look better, Stan. It’s all right to call you that, isn’t it? I mean, you don’t look like a ‘Stanley,’ somehow.”
“You don’t look like a Mary Margaret,” I said.
“Margo, remember?”
“Sure, I do. I was just saying … it’s like we have something in common.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that. Well, you have a good time, okay?”
“It’s work.”
“Some things are hard work and fun, too, aren’t they?”
“I … I think that’s right.”
She turned and walked back inside.
I had already asked the guy who ran the gas station a few blocks from the railroad if I could rent a space for my car.
He was surprised at first. “You could just leave it over in the commuter lot. It’s pretty safe around here.”
“No, I mean for a couple, three months. You know how people are. They see a car sitting alone for more than a few days, they come back at night.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” he said, like it made him sad. “So why don’t you just leave it at home?”
“I don’t have a house. Just an apartment. I have to park on the street. That’s okay for overnight, but …”
“I get it. But I couldn’t guarantee you indoor space. It just depends on whatever comes in, you know? I mean, I could park it out back; there’s the chain-link, and the dogs, too. Anybody would have to want your car pretty bad to risk that.”
I knew what he was saying: who’d want my car that bad?
“That sounds good enough. This way, I can catch the train, jump off in Queens, and I’ll be at JFK pretty quick. You got any idea what those long-term lots at the airport are getting now?”
“Yeah. Everything in the city’s gone through the goddamn roof. How about a hundred a month?”
“That’s fair. For both of us, I think.”
I gave him three months in front. Took my suitcases and the shoulder duffel out of the trunk, and gave him the keys—I had another set.
“I’d give you a lift to the station, but …”
“That’s okay. I only need to catch the ten-fifty-five.”
That’s the train I caught. It didn’t matter where I switched—I think every subway line stops somewhere near the Port Authority. Forty-second Street, Times Square, Grand Central—they’re all close enough to walk.
There were a lot of kids on the subway for that time of day. All different kinds; I guess with summer vacation, they didn’t have anything to do. A couple of times, I wished I hadn’t been hauling all that baggage around. It made me uneasy, no matter what I did. If I put down the suitcases, one of them could be snatched. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have my hands free.
A seat would be better, but I never saw an open one.
When the train finally stopped, I told myself I’d been worrying about nothing.
I made it over to Port Authority with more than two hours to spare. After I paid, I asked the tired-looking black girl on the other side of the counter what platform my bus would be leaving from. She pointed up at this huge monitor. Not real friendly, but I could see it wasn’t anything personal.
They told me I had to check the suitcases. One of the bus people said something about my duffel, too, but another one said the bus was going to be half empty, so what was the big deal?