Lion's Share by Rochelle Rattner Page B

before last, hoping to get Ed talking about music and learn more of his interests.
    â€œI haven’t been to a concert in months,” Ed said. “This summer’s been extremely hectic. Frank’s family’s on Fire Island, and he goes out there Thursday afternoons, which means extra work for Marsha and myself. Today’s the first chance I’ve gotten to enjoy the daylight.”
    He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it very much, Jana observed. Her conversation with Terry had confirmed what she’d already guessed—muscles that tense could never have been adept at playing jazz. Either Ed was trying to put one over on her, or the corporate world had changed him more than he’d realized. “I can get caught up in the pace of the city, too,” she said, trying to get an intense conversation started. “But now that I’m away I’ve been painting street scenes, and the figures are in sharper focus than when I’m seeing them all the time.” Jana stretched the truth, this was how her painting progressed other summers.
    Ed seemed preoccupied with getting her to the meeting on time. “Just because I’m continually running late doesn’t mean I should detain you. Don’t pick up my bad habits.” It was only twenty to seven when he gulped the rest of his gin and tonic. “Better get you off.” He reached for the check he’d asked the waitress to bring with the second round of drinks, then found Jana holding it.
    â€œI invited you this time, remember?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous; women were born to be treated.”
    â€œNot this woman,” Jana said. The ambiguity of that statement did not slip by her. She pulled a twenty out of her wallet and left it with the check under the ashtray.
    Ed hugged her at the corner, though not even long enough to see if their bodies fit any better than they did that last time. “You don’t want to take a walk up to Columbia with me, do you?” she asked. “We could probably both use the air.”
    â€œI brought a pile of work home, and I’d better get back to it.” He gave her one more brief hug then took a step into the street and stuck his arm out. A Checker cab was right there. She slid in easily despite the portfolio which contained not art but her new nightgown—she’d wanted something lacy on hand tonight, just in case.
    She leaned back against the hard seat and recalled the day she’d been in Ed’s car—his sheepskin seat covers seemed strangely comforting in retrospect. Two months ago she would have traded anything to be able to relate to Ed as naturally as she did to other people; tonight she was upset because being with him was no different than if she’d met Marilyn for a drink. Dwelling on these thoughts, she managed to thoroughly disorient herself by the time she headed halfheartedly through the courtyard toward Ferris Booth Hall. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to see other people: they would be nothing more than reminders of the woman she’d never become. She’d pulled away from Ed once, and it didn’t appear he was about to give her another chance. She quickened her pace, jolting at every step, her portfolio swinging at her side, its expensive, lush calfskin brushing against her thin summer slacks.
    She was barely in the door when two women accosted her. “We hear you’re curating a city-wide environmental art exhibition,” they began.
    â€œThat’s right.” Word certainly gets around quickly, Jana thought, bracing herself.
    â€œSounds like a great idea. Especially for a show sponsored by APL.”
    â€œI painted some Central Park scenes a few years ago,” the first woman said excitedly. “In several of them I incorporated pieces of rubbish I found lying about. I’ve got the sketches I did for them at my studio, if you’d care to take a look. I live only a few blocks from The