Dani Shapiro

The world felt unreal, hallucinatory.

Yes, she called me a liar.

She told me she has a happy marriage to a man who travels a lot, that he's on his way to California, and I said, no, he's on his way to see my daughter.

My mother sounded proud of herself, immersed in the drama of the moment.

How did she seem, I asked.

What do you mean?

Lenny's wife, was she angry?

No, my mother said slowly.

She just didn't believe me, Danny.

I spent the rest of that day in a state of awful excitement.

Something was going to happen.

And when Lenny showed up that evening at the apartment we were still sharing in the West Village, I was ready.

He put his bags down and gave me a hug.

The phone rang.

My mother had given Mrs. Klein the number at the apartment and suggested she find out for herself what her husband was up to.

Lenny picked up the phone on the kitchen wall.

"'Hello?'

I watched him, and for the first and only time in the years I knew him, he looked genuinely surprised.

He didn't say a word.

He just listened for a few minutes, then hung up the phone.