Summer and the City

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d ever be able to leave New York,” he adds, his words causing another jolt of despair.

All morning we’ve been saying the wrong things to each other, when we’ve managed to say anything at all.

I’ve been studiously trying to bring up the future, while Capote keeps studiously avoiding it.

Hence the history lesson about Penn Station.

“Listen,” I begin.

“Look at the time,” he says quickly, nodding at the clock. “You don’t want to miss your train.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to get rid of me.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” I venture, shuffling in line to buy my ticket.

“Yeah. It was great.” For a moment he yields, and I see the little boy in him.

“You could come and visit me in Providence-”

“Sure,” he says. I can tell by the way his eyes dart to the side that it’s never going to happen, though. He’ll have found another girl by then. But if I weren’t leaving, maybe I could have been The One.

He has to find her someday, right?

I purchase my ticket. Capote picks up my suitcase as I buy copies of The New York Times and the Post . I won’t be doing that for a while, I think sourly. We find the escalator to my gate. As we descend, I’m filled with a blinding emptiness. This is it, I think. The End.

“All aboard,” the conductor shouts.

I place one foot on the step and pause. If only Capote would rush forward, grab my arm, and pull me back to him. If only there was a sudden blackout. If only something would happen-anything-to prevent me from getting on that train.

I look back over my shoulder and find Capote in the crowd.

He waves.

The trip to Hartford is three hours. For the first hour, I’m a puddle of misery. I can’t believe I’ve left New York. I can’t believe I’ve left Capote. What if I never see him again?

It isn’t right. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. Capote should have declared his undying love.

“Should,” I suddenly recall myself saying to Samantha and Miranda, “is the worst word in the English language. People always think things ‘should’ be a certain way, and when they’re not, they’re disappointed.”

“What happened to you?” Samantha asked. “You had sex and now you know everything?”

“I not only had sex, I had an orgasm,” I said proudly.

“Oh, honey, welcome to the club,” Samantha exclaimed. And then she turned to Miranda. “Don’t worry. Someday you’ll have one too.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” Miranda shrieked.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. Maybe it’s okay about Capote. Just because something doesn’t last forever, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t meaningful while it did last. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.

And what’s more important than your first guy? Hey, I could have done a lot worse.

And suddenly, I feel free.

I shuffle through my newspapers and open the New York Post . And that’s when I spot my name.

I frown. It can’t be. Why is my name in Page Six? Then I look at the title of the piece: “Disaster and Plaster.”

I drop the paper like I’ve been bitten.

When the train pulls into New Haven for a twenty-minute layover, I race out of my compartment and run to the nearest phone booth. I catch Samantha in her office, and shaking and spluttering manage to ask if she’s seen the Post .

“Yes, Carrie, I did. And I thought it was terrific.”

“What?” I scream.

“Calm down. You can’t take these things so personally. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“They said my reading was the worst thing they’ve seen since their high school Christmas pageant.”

“Who cares?” she purrs. “They’re probably jealous. You got a mention for your first play in New York City. Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m mortified .”

“That’s too bad. Because Cholly Hammond called. He’s been trying to get in touch with you for days. He wants you to call him immediately.”

“Why?”

“Oh, Sparrow,” she sighs. “How should I know? But he said it was important. I’ve got to go. I’ve got Harry Mills in my office-” And she hangs up.

I stare at the phone. Cholly Hammond? What can he want?

I count out more change. Normally, the cost of making a long-distance call from a pay phone would be a problem, but I happen to be kind of flush right now. In the spirit of Samantha, I sold my brand-new, never used Chanel bag to the nice man at the vintage shop for two hundred and fifty dollars. I knew the money wasn’t near what it was worth, but I wouldn’t need the bag at Brown. And besides, I was kind of happy to get rid of it.

Baggage.

I drop several quarters into the slot. The phone is answered by a bright young thing.

“Is Cholly there?” I ask, giving my name.

Cholly immediately gets on the line.

“Little one!” he exclaims, like I’m his long-lost friend.

“Cholly!” I reply.

“I saw your mention in the Post and found it very intriguing,” he enthuses. “Especially as I’ve been thinking about you for weeks. Ever since I sat next to you at Barry Jessen’s opening.”

My heart sinks. Here we go again. Another old geezer who wants to get into my pants.

“I kept musing about our oh-so-amusing conversation. Pun intended.”

“Is that so?” I ask, trying to recall what I might have said that could be so memorable.

“And since I’m always on the lookout for something new, I thought, wouldn’t it be interesting to try to get some younger readers to The New Review ? And who better to capture them than a young woman herself? In a sort of column, if you will. New York through the eyes of an ingenue.”

“I don’t know how good it would be. Given how badly my play went over.”

“Goodness gracious,” he exclaims. “But that’s the whole point. If it had been a swimming success, I wouldn’t be calling you. Because the whole idea behind this enterprise is that Carrie Bradshaw never wins.”

“Excuse me?” I gasp.

“Carrie never wins. That’s the fun of it, don’t you see? It’s what keeps her going.”

“But what about love? Does she ever win at love?”

“Especially not at love.”

I hesitate. “That sounds like a curse, Cholly.”

He laughs loud and long. “You know what they say: One man’s curse is another man’s opportunity. So what do you say? Can we meet in my office this afternoon at three?”

“In New York?”

“Where else?” he says.