Maybe her best bet was to go in the opposite direction—knock Nathan’s socks off. Then when she pulled out after a few face-to-faces, Lorelei and her coach would seem stale. And if Nathan ever found out Veronika was the voice behind his first scintillating encounters with Lorelei, he’d look at Veronika with new eyes. Like Roxane with Cyrano.
She stayed for the entire meal, positioning her screen just over Lorelei’s head facing Nathan so she wouldn’t have to see Lorelei, and could feel like she was the one sitting across from Nathan.
After a while she fell into a rhythm, and almost forgot Lorelei was there. Almost. It reminded her of those blissful few hours when Nathan had pretended to be her boyfriend for the benefit of her family, rekindling that heady mix of joy and longing.
When dinner ended, Veronika followed them out, trailed behind as they glided along Chan Avenue. They ended up walking along the Harlem River, the glowing colors of High Town reflecting off the water, creating a stained-glass tapestry.
“So did you ever walk here with Winter?” Lorelei asked. It was the first thing Lorelei had said in a couple of hours that didn’t come from Veronika, and Veronika sent a frown. Bringing up exes, especially dead ones, was not the way to end a face-to-face.
“Here?” Nathan said. He thought about it. “I think I do remember coming here with her. Why?”
“No reason. It’s just that she’s what connects us, if you think about it. You were seeing Winter and I was seeing Rob the day before the accident. There’s an interesting harmonic that we should be walking here.”
Correction: these weren’t Veronika’s words, they were her coach’s. Interesting harmonics. It was definitely a man, a man who read books about Carl Jung, but wasn’t smart enough to read books by Jung.
“It’s touching, what Rob is doing. Don’t you think?” Lorelei said.
“Rob’s not a better angel, he’s the best angel.” Nathan put his arm around Lorelei, drew her close in one deft, casual motion. “You know what amazes me most about him?”
“What?”
“He doesn’t even know it. He doesn’t know he’s a saint.”
Sometimes Veronika forgot that Nathan was a dating coach himself. He was good. Not as good as she, but very, very good. What a lovely thing to say. Lorelei’s screen count was soaring, and Veronika suspected that the path to Lorelei’s heart was through that screen count. If Nathan was good television, he’d get a second face-to-face, and soon he’d get into her indigo undies. Veronika would bet money they were indigo. Nathan had a head start to being good television, because the situation was so compelling. Lorelei had laid out the context for her dimmer viewers with that harmonics comment.
Maybe it was unfair to assume Nathan said what he said about Rob to improve his chances with Lorelei. Veronika was sure he genuinely believed it. She wondered if it unsettled him, if he compared himself to Rob and felt diminished by that comparison. It unsettled Veronika, but she was used to comparing herself to others and feeling diminished.
A soft rap on Veronika’s door startled her out of her zone. Veronika waved the door open. Lycan looked crestfallen; she’d gotten so sucked in she’d forgotten he was out there.
“I’m going to go home,” he said.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” Veronika said. “Can we go another time?”
Lycan managed a smile. “Yeah. Sure.” He turned to leave.
“Lycan?”
He paused.
“I still don’t get why you wouldn’t visit Winter.”
Lycan’s brow clenched. “I’m not talking to a dead person. I’m just not.” He left before she could reply, not that there was much to say after a pronouncement like that.
Lorelei and Nathan were saying good night on the corner of Chan and Thirty-Ninth, which, Veronika quickly confirmed, was the midpoint between their apartments. Standard etiquette, though Veronika didn’t peg Lorelei as a traditionalist. Veronika blocked her screen so she wouldn’t see the kiss. Watching it would hurt way too much.
Then Nathan was off, and it was just Veronika, Lorelei, twenty-two hundred fifty-four viewers, and Lorelei’s invisible coach.
Well, that went swimmingly, don’t you think? Veronika sent.
Lorelei was carrying on so many conversations at once that there was a delay before her reply.
Perfect. Can I count on you for our next face-to-face?
Veronika had planned to express her outrage at being blindsided when the face-to-face was over. She’d planned to say she’d only gone along because she was a consummate professional, that she was now terminating their professional relationship. If she agreed to work a second one, then she was complicit. If she didn’t, she would be on the outside, looking in.
If my schedule is open.
How would Nathan react, if he found out? Knowing Nathan, he’d be amused. Maybe flattered. It wasn’t as if she was spying on him; if she wanted to watch, she could join Lorelei’s throng. It was all public.
32
Rob
As they rose in the tube from the parking lot deep below the Cryomed facility, past floor after floor of underground crèches holding Cryomed’s non-bridesicle clientele, Veronika looked up at Rob and smiled her odd, square smile, obviously striving to be reassuring. Rob nodded. He was glad she’d offered to come. She was proving to be a good friend. Winter was their reason for becoming friends, but he hoped they’d remain friends after Winter was gone.
The thought caused his stomach to clench. Two days. How could a person’s existence or nonexistence be so clearly and coldly determined? Today, Winter existed; the day after tomorrow, she wouldn’t.
“You okay?” Veronika asked.
“Mm-hm. I’m okay.”
What do you say to someone, when you know this is the last time you’ll ever speak to her, but she doesn’t? There were things Rob wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that over the months, his reason for coming had shifted. He wasn’t visiting out of guilt or obligation, he was visiting because being with her was worth every dollar, worth all the work and sacrifice. Could he say that? Would she suspect something was wrong?
“What are you going to talk about? Have you thought about it?” Veronika asked.
“I was just pondering that. I have a whole fourteen minutes, but I can’t use it to say good-bye, because I don’t want her to know what’s happening.” Was that the right thing? Until that moment, he’d been certain hiding the truth from her was the right thing to do. Now he felt uncertain. “I don’t, right?”
The tube came to a stop on the main floor. They stepped out.
“You don’t. If she had six months to live, maybe you could make a case for her right to know. But telling someone they have fourteen minutes to live? I think that would be cruel.” Veronika tsked. “And it’s not technically fourteen minutes to live, is it? She’s not technically alive.”
“Fourteen minutes awake. That’s how Cryomed phrases it, anyway. I keep expecting them to change their mind, to suddenly realize they can’t simply drag Winter out of that crèche. But they’re not going to change their mind, are they?”
“No, I don’t think they are.” Veronika squeezed Rob’s forearm. “I’ll be here.”