I could hear the tone of his voice even from several feet away. Seething with vitriol, almost tangible in its righteous anger. He wasn’t even speaking too loudly; it was the body language, his clenched fist, the way his jaw moved. I could see it all from the lights lining the promenade. Whoever had called him wasn’t letting him off the phone, either. And after about ten minutes I started walking away, out of the park, taking out my phone and studying Google Maps to figure out where the nearest subway station was.

I was walking toward Court Street when I heard my name. He was a block behind me, jogging toward me, in too good shape, too close to evade. I stood by the subway entrance and waited. He didn’t even have to catch his breath once he stopped short in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about that, Vera. It was my ex-wife. Penelope has the sniffles. She wanted me to check the name of some kid medication back at the house, so she could buy it. But I shouldn’t have picked up. I was spending time with you. Come back to my place? I’ll make it up to you.”

I felt my lobe. One of my hoops had fallen out. “I hope she feels better. But I think I want to go home tonight.” I started making my way down the stairs, but he grabbed my arm.

“Please, Vera? I fucked up, I said I shouldn’t have picked up. Forgive me?” His eyes were wide and moist, almost manic in the light filtering out from the subway station.

“How long ago did you separate from your wife?” I asked before I could think.

He stepped up a stair, away from me, but still holding my arm, his grip tense, reddening my skin. “About a year ago. We’d taken breaks before that, though.” In the light I could see his razor burn.

“Well, she doesn’t deserve to be talked to like that, especially if she’s saddled with your sick kid.” I shook his hand off my arm and continued down to the station.

He walked behind me, his shoes scuffing the backs of my feet. “Come on, Vera, don’t be like this. It’s one fight you overheard. You have no idea what she was saying on the other end.”

I turned to face him before going through the turnstiles onto the platform. “Can you leave me alone? I just want to go home for the night. I’ve had a long day.” His face tautened, his lips twisting into a grimace. I backed farther away, the ghost of his hand still gripping my arm, tapped my debit card at the turnstile and pushed my way toward the other end of the station.