“Dinner uptown.” Rubio was caught in his reverie. “Lucky bastards. Holding out to the end. Like Murray Hill, where the remaining wealthy families diked up a private compound, betting their deep pockets that good walls will hold back the tide until things get better.”

“The old-money version of a den,” I said. “Seems crazy. With their means, they could go anywhere.”

He shrugged. “The stranglehold of tradition? Once-priceless real estate might be priceless once again? People get stuck in a way of living.”

“You’d like to be them.” Hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but it must’ve come out that way, ’cause Rubio got huffy.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you?”

“No! I mean, you know . . .” I wriggled my shoulders. “Just doesn’t feel like me.”

“What do you know about it? You don’t even know who you are!”

“Hey!”

He glanced away, ashamed. “I didn’t . . .”

“Yeah, you did, and by the way, it’s not true. There’s a me inside that doesn’t need memories to know who she is! Sort of.”

He peered down at me like I’d grown another ear. “This is new.”

“Maybe. Well, yes. And that me thinks it’s not so great to wall up and keep all the good stuff for yourself!”

“Like we do in the dens?”

Well, he had me there.

“You see? Everything’s relative.” Rube leaned in to press his point. “Like the Causeway. Murray Hill built it as a public facility, following the old-style mandate of fulfilling civic duty. They preserved vintage buildings. They planted hardy trees and salt-tolerant shrubs. They drone in food and merchandise. They’re trying to keep the city alive!”

“Alive for anyone who can afford it!” We learned about the Causeway in our training: an elevated boulevard above Lexington, from 31st all the way to 45th, the full width of the avenue. A sort of mall, only still functioning, with stores and restaurants, thirty feet in the air. “They just needed somewhere close by to shop!”

“Listen to you!” Rubio eased back, like my words had nudged him. “That old you must’ve been a Democrat.”

“Is that bad?” My outburst surprised me, too. Where’d that all come from?

“It was a political stance. Brilliant in theory. Inefficient in practice.” He looked me over. “Maybe you should’ve got some real clothes from Jenn, to blend in better.”

I glared at him. “These are my besties!”

“At least they’re clean.” He pushed off from the fence. I thought the lecture was over, but he pointed to the weathered stone façades ringing Gramercy Park. “In buildings of a certain vintage, the second story was often the more formal story. Columns, tall windows, elaborate casings, heavy cornices, you see? On the Causeway, they turned the grandest ones into second-floor entrances from the raised street.”

The sky had gone dead black.