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man, tall, slim, holding the hand of a small child. He waved
at her, looking both ways before crossing First Avenue. The
little girl ran to keep up with the man s long churning legs.
Ilene! Hey! he said, upon them. You remember
Stephanie?
Ilene said, Yes, of course. Hello, Stephanie. I m a work
friend of your dad s. Betty, Frieda, this is David Isen, a
writer at Cash.
They all exchanged greetings. David reminded Frieda
didn t need to that he d seen Oliver! with her last fall.
Betty recalled having met David on the street once.
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The Not-So-Perfect Man
Ilene was pleased to see her friend. David had made a
quick recovery from his divorce. His usual amicable, easy-
going demeanor was fully restored. If she were to confide
in anyone about her separation from Peter, she would
choose David. But he d been out of the office, first on a
business trip, and last week on vacation. She couldn t call
him at home or show up at his apartment because his
daughter was visiting from Vermont for a couple of weeks.
The girl held firmly to her father s hand. Her eyes scanned
the three women at the table distrustfully and with the
solipsistic impatience of a seven-year-old.
David seemed a bit frantic. Overly excited to see them.
He said, Grown-ups! I ve been adult deprived for days.
What are you doing down here? asked Ilene, wonder-
ing how and why he d bring a child into this seedy neigh-
borhood.
We had dinner at the Second Avenue Deli.
Ilene looked at pretty Stephanie with her auburn hair
and sparkly pink T-shirt. That must have been fun, she
said, inviting a response.
Stephanie ignored the comment. David sighed. He said,
She s been with me a week. Another week to go. We ve
seen every G-rated movie in the theaters. I ve taken her to
the Bronx Zoo, the Planetarium, Chelsea Piers. We ve hit
four museums.
Dad, let s go, said Stephanie.
I think she s bored, he said.
Bored at museums? asked Frieda with feigned shock
and horror. She leaned forward conspiratorially and whis-
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V
alerie Frankel
pered, I don t blame you. Stephanie, sensing that Frieda
was child-friendly, smiled back. The presence of a child
an innocent distracted them from the tense topic of Sam.
David said, I made a huge list of things to do, and I m
trying to avoid TV dependency. But I m running out of
ideas. You can go to the park for only so long. I think she
misses her friends. And her mom. I ve tried to set up a play
date with kids from her old school, but I haven t been able
to reach anyone.
Ilene knew full well that Justin, too, was currently be-
tween school and camp and that Frieda struggled to keep
him occupied during the day. That the two children were
just one grade apart. For months, she d been soft-selling
David to her sister as the man she should be seeing, a
golden alternative to Sam. This was a handcrafted ideal
opportunity to arrange for her favorite sister and good
friend to spend time together, help each other out, let the
kids meet. It was a wide-open door, the flawless scenario,
one Ilene couldn t have dreamed up in her wildest
machinations. But and it shamed Ilene to let such a
dastardly thought enter her alcohol-addled brain;
shamed her deeply, to the core, but the thought popped
up nonetheless she wanted David for herself. Not for a
boyfriend (if anything, Peter s leaving made her realize
how much she wanted to stay married to him). She
needed David s attention in the uncertain months ahead.
If David and Frieda started dating, she d lose both of them
to each other.
Betty said to Stephanie, I bet you think boys are yucky.
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The Not-So-Perfect Man
Please, said Stephanie. That attitude is so kinder-
garten.
Betty raised one eyebrow and laughed. Well,
Stephanie, if you think boys are okay, I m sure you ll like
my nephew Justin. He s going into first grade, but is very
mature for his age.
David turned abruptly toward Frieda. Your son is free?
he asked eagerly. We would love to set something up.
How about tomorrow? Tomorrow morning? You live in
Brooklyn Heights, right? We ll come to you.
Frieda said, Are you really that desperate? You d cross
water for a play date?
David said, Do I have to beg?
I promised Justin that I d take him to the Transit Mu-
seum tomorrow. It s right in my neighborhood, and you
have to go underground to get there. I m not sure
Stephanie could stomach another museum. This one,
though, has rows and rows of old-fashioned subway cars
and a big city bus you can pretend to drive. No paintings or
sculptures, though.
David said, Stephanie loves trains!
His daughter said, That doesn t sound too boring.
Frieda and David exchanged phone numbers, a sight
Ilene had longed to see for months. But now, it made her
stomach clench, the ants marching double-time. Ilene ac-
tually felt herself gag.
Betty asked, Are you all right?
Ilene waved her off, and excused herself. She went into
the bar, recoiled from the eardrum-splitting techno music.
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alerie Frankel
She made her way toward the back of the bar, down a nar-
row stairway and made it into the ladies room just in time.
After rinsing her mouth, she felt better. She was less
drunk now. And hungry. Ravenous. She walked back up-
stairs to the bar and bought three bags of barbecue potato
chips and three hard-boiled eggs. The only food on the
premises. Oddly, the salt and protein were exactly what she
wanted.
Ilene brought the food back outside. David had left, hav-
ing instructed Frieda and Betty to say his goodbyes for him.
Frieda tucked the piece of paper with David s phone num-
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