Ten Thousand Saints Page 0,136

scarf. Scattered across the marble vanity were the various toiletries he’d left behind. Noxzema, shaving cream. Like the skeletons of some spiny-backed mollusc, his retainers.

“You’re not going to ask me to marry you, are you?”

“Do you want me to?” Jude asked. The scarf around his shoulders looked like the shawl Johnny had worn on their wedding day, the shawl she had tied to her own.

“Not anymore,” she said. “Sometimes I wished we were the ones who were married, though.”

“You did?”

“It’s stupid.”

Jude tried to hide his smile by playing with his lip. “Well, sometimes I wished the same thing.”

She was rubbing her shaved head, and now she took another look at it in the mirror. “What were you going to ask, then?” she asked his reflection.

“If you’re sure,” he said, rubbing his own head reflexively. “About the baby.”

“I’m sure,” she said. Her other hand was on her belly, and, reflexively, she began to rub it, too. He copied her. They rubbed their bellies and their heads.

“Is it pat your belly, rub your head?” he asked.

“No, it’s rub your belly, pat your head.”

They attempted this for a minute, watching each other in the mirror. He kept messing up and patting his belly. “It’s not that hard!” Eliza said, laughing. He gave up and reached for the handful of charms hanging from her neck. He fingered the subway token. Teddy used to hold it up to his glasses and peer through the hole at Jude.

“What’s in this locket, anyway?”

Gently, she took it back from him. “It’s a secret.”

Empty-handed now, he dropped his hands to her belly. She closed her eyes. He held his hand over her T-shirt and he rubbed. It was a Green Mountain Boys T-shirt, extra large. Clockwise, he polished her belly. He leaned in to kiss her and closed his own eyes, and no one but the mirror was there to witness their image, their profiles locked at belly and mouth.

They remained in this position until, at the distant door of the apartment, there was another knock.

“Maybe Neena forgot her key,” she said.

It was Johnny. Linen jacket, tie. The bridge of his nose was bruised, and beneath his left eye was a jagged cord of skin, not yet a scar. Beside him, smaller than Johnny, also in jacket and tie, was an Indian man with a briefcase.

“Oh my God,” Johnny said to Eliza. “Did they do that at the hospital?”

“Jude did it.”

“She had hair before,” Johnny said to the man. To Eliza, he said, “The doorman let me up. But I thought I should knock.”

“Thoughtful,” said Eliza. Over her shoulder, Johnny caught Jude’s eye, then abruptly dropped it. He was not here to return any punches, Jude saw. He had some more formal method of retaliation in mind.

“He might as well hear this, too. Can I come in?”

The visitors did not sit down. Jude stood by the piano, arms crossed, the foliage of Eliza’s hair scattered at his feet.

“Who’s this?” Eliza asked, nodding to the man with the briefcase. Whoever he was, Jude was grateful for his presence, for the excuse not to get into another confrontation with Johnny. He wore a precise mustache, a pair of metal-framed glasses, and too much of an expensive cologne. Where had Jude seen him before? The temple? He recognized some feature, the narrow span of his shoulders, the controlled way he moved his body, as though he hoped he would appear not to be moving at all.

“This is Ravi Milan,” said Johnny. “He’s a lawyer. He’s Teddy’s dad.”

Eliza and Jude didn’t move from where they stood. Ravi did not extend his hand but nodded politely at each of them. “I have great respect for the life you’re carrying,” he said to Eliza.

“That’s his friend Jude,” said Johnny.

“That’s not his dad,” Jude said. “Teddy’s dad’s dead.” But the eyes, the small, fragile hands . . .

“I’m sure you have many questions,” said Ravi. “I’m happy to answer them—”

“But we have business first,” Johnny finished.

Ravi stepped over to the piano bench, set down his briefcase, and opened it. Out of it he produced a handful of printed pages, bound with a black plastic clip, which he handed to Eliza. Over her shoulder, Jude squinted to read the letters: PETITION FOR ADOPTION.

“What is this?” she asked Johnny. “You put on a tie and you think you can adopt my kid?”

“That’s not what it says,” said Johnny.

“Did he tell you we didn’t sleep together?” Eliza asked Ravi. “That we’re husband and wife, but he’s been sleeping with