'I recently took a job with a new firm,' I told her, making it appear more substantial than it was, and Judith made a sound of surprised appreciation.
'But it's not a situation where you end up with $852 million,' I added.
'Yeah, well,' she sighed. But she didn't elaborate.
I tried to think of something to say.
'You know, Bill,' she began again, 'basically I freaked out.'
'Right.'
'Are you seeing anyone?' she ventured.
I waited to answer this. 'Yes,' I finally said.
'Oh,' she responded, a little flustered. 'Do you mind- I mean, it's not my business, Bill- but do you mind telling me who you're seeing?'
'I don't mind.'
'Well… who?'
'You,' I said. 'I'm seeing you. Tomorrow, at 3 p.m., in the tearoom of the Plaza Hotel.'
Judith was pleased to hear this, I could tell. I still knew her, still heard everything in each breath. 'Good… that's good,' she answered, and I thought to myself that it might be very nice to see her, to look her in the eyes, to find her in the bustle and hurry of the city, to pick her out of the crowd and to stop in front of herand embrace.
And I was right. There they were the next day, coming toward me. Judith walked resolutely, I could tell, and Timothy had a baseball glove on his hand, the one I'd sent him, and was tossing and catching a ball. I stood to greet them. Judith's body felt familiar. So did Timothy's, though he was much taller. I crushed him to my chest, as Judith watched. It'd be a matter of forgiveness, on all sides. Maybe it wasn't likely. Maybe it was beyond us. But maybe it also wasn't unthinkable. Things stranger than that have happened, after all, things much stranger than that.
