He had no luggage, only a backpack he filled with toiletries and a change of underwear. He booked an afternoon ticket home. When he reached the terminal he pulled out his phone and found a bench. The picture on the screen was of his family in what he at least thought was a happy time.
It was about a quarter to nine. He stared at that photo before opening the messaging app. William scrolled down his contact list until he got to “Suzanne.” He opened it and saw the last message was in July 2018. He hoped Suzanne would be working from home. He thought it likely, given what he knew about her company’s business.
He typed.
{William: Suzanne. I am in new york to see you. Please tell me whether you will see me. And where. Father.}
He stared at the draft. Would she understand? Would she respond?
He added “Love” before “Father” and hit send.
He had come this far, but there was no response immediately. He had her address. By an accident of the post office, though she lived in Tuckahoe her address said Bronxville. He went to the sidewalk outside the terminal. There was no taxi line so he got in one that was waiting and asked to be taken to Bronxville. When the cabbie asked how to get there, William said he did not know. The driver found it in Waze, and they began the trip.
Passing the time, the cabbie spoke of how difficult things had been with the virus.
“We have suffered so much. Uber was bad, but this is worse. No one is traveling. This will be a good trip for me.”
William was often gregarious with cabbies, but now he spoke just to keep the conversation going. The expressway was almost empty though it was Monday, and William never got out of JFK so quickly. Or so anxiously. He held his phone in his hand on his leg, glancing at it as if his will would cause the receipt of a message.
As the cab climbed the bridge to the Bronx and William was looking out over the Sound, the phone chirped. He hesitated and took a breath before lifting it. He opened the message.
{Suzanne: You should drive to Bronxville. When will you get there?}
William stared at the words. He asked the cabbie when they would get to town.
“Waze says it will be only seventeen minutes.”
William, his hands shaking, typed and sent the information.
{Suzanne: There are benches by the train station. Across from Starbucks. Near the movie theater. I will be there in 25.}
Suzanne had, in fact, seen her father’s first message shortly after it was sent. She was working remotely, as was Kerry, and was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She rushed to the bedroom and showed it to Kerry.
“What do you think?” she asked.