Bridge of Sighs

brown gravy that came with their burgers, though she was soon lapping them up. Living so recklessly seemed to have improved her spirits, but in no time she was back to recounting her tale of woe for—what?—the fourth time? “Oh, I forgot to tell you this part,” she’d say to propel it forward, her face pink with recollected outrage, despite the fact that she
had
told him, twice. Confident he could recite the complete narrative himself, Noonan allowed his mind to drift back to the dark landing. That Sarah considered what happened there “just a kiss” was as unnerving as the kiss itself. He’d long ago recognized that Sarah either had no aura or had found a means of cloaking it, but this reaction was taking ambivalence too far. He’d kissed her when he shouldn’t have, and in doing so betrayed both his best friend and his own girlfriend, if that’s what the girl chattering at him across the booth actually was. At the very least, kissing Sarah should’ve clarified matters. Instead he was more confused than ever. He couldn’t tell if she’d wanted him to kiss her, nor if she wanted him to do it again. On the one hand, she didn’t look like she did, particularly. But neither did she look like she didn’t. She hadn’t slapped him, or pushed him away. She’d even said it was nice, though this was hardly a ringing endorsement.
    The most infuriating thing was that he couldn’t remember whether she’d kissed him back. He hadn’t known he was going to kiss her until he did, and somehow at the critical moment managed not to pay attention. It was a little like reading a passage in a book, then realizing your mind had wandered and that you couldn’t remember a single thing about what you’d just read, though your eyes had passed dutifully over every word. If the kiss had been a paragraph, he’d have gone back and read it again to see if anything rang a bell. But it wasn’t a paragraph, and nothing did.
    The kiss did have one unforeseen and deeply mysterious consequence, however. As he sat in the Cayoga Diner listening to Nan retrace the day’s events, he felt a softening toward her. Back at Ikey’s, she’d truly seemed ugly in her rage and sorrow, but now her beauty was largely restored and she was once again the prettiest girl in town. It made exactly no sense to Noonan that kissing one girl should make another more attractive, though right then a lot of things made no sense. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the girl he’d kissed and wanted to kiss again, paying closer attention next time, had specifically asked him to be nice to this other girl, and Lucy—the friend he’d betrayed by kissing the girl he wanted to kiss again—had implied as much himself. By granting their wish, that is, he could make amends for his betrayal. Grant them that much, at least. Because, okay, maybe Nan
was
vulnerable. She’d had what was for her a rough year. Sarah and Noonan were veteran observers of marital dysfunction, and Lucy’s parents had struggled mightily for a long time to keep Ikey’s afloat. But to Nan economic uncertainty and parental discord were brand-new. They’d thrown her for a loop, and why not? Sure, she’d been coddled and protected and encouraged to be self-centered, but she wasn’t stupid. Though most of the books Sarah’s father had assigned for honors were subversive to everything she’d been raised to take comfort in, she’d read them diligently, with more wide-eyed innocence than outrage, and occasionally had interesting things to say about them. Take away the trappings of her Borough upbringing, and she was more daring than Lucy, which admittedly wasn’t saying much. Still, if Lucy and Sarah wanted him to be nice to Nan tonight, he would.
    By the time they finished their burgers and had several cups of coffee, the street outside was deserted except for the groaning snowplows. Larry, who worked the grill and liked chatting with his customers when it was slow, came over and, without invitation, slid into their half-moon booth, confident of a warm reception but not offended in the least when Nan scooted all the way around to Noonan’s side. He hated to see good food go to waste, so he finished the last of their soggy fries. He was wearing a gravy-stained T-shirt so thin that his nipples and belly button were plainly visible underneath, and Nan regarded him with undisguised wonderment. What he thought he’d probably do tonight, he confided, was close up early and curl up on a