EXCERPT II

EXCERPT II (Page 3 of 5)

“There’s no rule against drinking a cardboard cup of coffee with a friend in a public place,” he says, leading the way.

After they are seated at a white-topped table in the Petrie Court, Maya arcs her cup toward the Burghers of Calais. It must be fifteen or twenty feet high and seven feet wide. "Why not pick, say, this heroic wonder? Or, that?" She gestures toward the far wall where a Maillol nude, the head dropped to the raised knees, sits in exquisite repose. One of Maya's favorites.

Immediately she blushes. If he's not allowed to shake a woman's hand, is he even allowed to view a naked statue?

Gerry is unaware. The steam from his coffee has fogged his glasses, which he flicks off, wipes, and replaces, eyes fixed on her. "Because those are ideals," he says.

"But that's a good thing. Isn't it?"

He shakes his head. "But you can only stare in awe at an ideal. It doesn't move you to action. In fact, it could paralyze you. Whereas, the old courtesan upstairs..." He points an index finger toward the floor above. "Remember the full title? Who Was Once the Helmet Maker's Beautiful Wife.' From this you know she lived fully, and changed dramatically. You know she coped with whatever hardships befell her. From her harrowed body you know that it was through her own drive and effort that she survived."

Maya is nonplussed again.

His voice drops. "Like we all must. But to do that, we need to face the truth. For that, we need courage. So I come to her on the eve of the Sabbath to pray for that courage so that I can continue believing."

Maya gazes outside at Central Park through the wall of windows. The trees are stripped bare, skeletal and sapless as the old woman's statue upstairs. Maya turns back to him. "Well, then I'm a coward."
"No. You're not." He shakes his head, revealing red cheek curls, uncut and twisted behind his ears, hidden from view till now by the thick frames. "Sam tells me you're well into the diaries. That takes courage."