Who Killed Steve (part two)

(For those of you who asked which bookstore on 8th street

never enough details for me: it was Eighth Street Bookshop

closed in 1979)

Naomi did not like the name Steve especially. Still

there was something about This Particular Steve - his

combination of familiar and un. She was, on the first day

of their meeting, wearing three kimonos of different lengths

one on top of the other. How this came to be - this outfit

in particular, was entirely happenstance, but she liked it.

Steve, on the other hand, was dressed in nothing more or less.

Loose cotton shirt, pants the color of no color - maybe beige,

maybe grey. His face is what mattered. Steve had one of those

faces, strong, all emotion right there in front of anyone who

looked. He looked like any age at all. Both young

enough that no one thought in numbers. In his hands was Rilke.

In hers, Djuana Barnes. They each, in surreptitious ways,

examined one another’s books. The first full sentence that

Steve said to Naomi was this: I’ll buy you a cup of coffee

at Cafe Reggio. OK, Naomi said. But she thought to herself

He didn’t mention biscotti. Just coffee. Maybe

it was just a metaphor. But for what?