Page 54 of Bad Words

“Wow. Hard question. I suppose my favorites tend to be books about people who feel lost, or people undergoing ego death.”

“Well, and comedies,” Parker said, looking annoyed. “She likes farces and satires.”

I blinked at him, lost for words.

“I’ve read a lot of Selina’s reviews,” Parker added to Juliette. “She wants to look so serious, but she writes about funny books like they reinvented the wheel.”

Juliette laughed. “Selina, you’ve been rustled.”

“Apparently,” I said. He was right, of course. A book without humor was like a full day without a smile.

The night felt dreamlike all of a sudden, the fact that I was sitting here with these two people under a swing trombone cover of “A Holly Jolly Christmas.”

“How about this one?” Juliette asked me, circling the point of her index finger in Parker’s direction. “What’s Parker’s style?”

Parker’s shoulders tensed.

“Well,” I said slowly, “I found out that he likes Anna Kavan, which is a point in his favor.”

“Oh, what a wonderful writer,” said Juliette. “I know Ice has been gaining some readership recently.”

“Finally,” said Parker.

I glanced at him before I knew what I was doing. “There was a good article about Anna Kavan in Harper’s on Monday.”

He gave me a startled look. “Oh. Um, I didn’t see it.”

A beat of silence. Then the waitress appeared bearing enormous platters of steaming food. “All right! Waffles … steak frites … veggie burger.”

As she set the burger in front of Parker, he leaned back to accommodate her. When she’d gone, we began to eat, fresh gusts of wind making the window wobble again. I glanced out at the nearly empty street. “Juliette, were you supposed to fly out tomorrow?”

“Luckily, no. I’m staying with my sister until the twenty-seventh, just around the corner. But were either of you traveling?”

In the corner of my eye, Parker was watching me again. Warmth tickled my collarbones. I wasn’t ashamed of my life, but I remained acutely aware that it was not a normal life.

“No,” I said. “I always stay in the city for the holidays.”

I waited to see smugness on Parker’s face. Pathetic, he’d think. Terminally alone, like the woman in his story.

Instead I caught fleeting curiosity in his expression.

Feeling abruptly uncomfortable, I worked open the silver dispenser and drowned my waffles in syrup.

Juliette said, “What about you, Parker? Traveling?”

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to fly to San Franscisco to meet up with my family tomorrow morning, but JetBlue canceled.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Juliette set down her fork and knife. “What a disappointment.”

“It was worth it,” Parker said quickly. “I mean, even if I’d known the storm was coming, I would have stayed for the event.”

“Well, I’m glad you feel that way, but I wish it hadn’t compromised your plans.”

“Yeah.” Parker picked up his burger, but he studied the grease-slick bun without biting into it.

“What is it?” Juliette asked gently.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. I mean—” Parker’s eyes strayed to me. I sawed into my waffles and fixed my gaze downward, but it was impossible not to listen.