He dialed in the frequency he had spoken to Lauren on. He did it in much the same way that he sometimes looked at souvenirs he’d kept from other women: a forgotten pair of sunglasses, a pencil, a candy wrapper. He didn’t really expect to hear from her again. But he also wasn’t sure if it would be such a good thing if he did, given his unusual work situation. She hadn’t called him, though he’d given her his number. She was probably too busy finding a room and a job in New York. Then suddenly he heard her voice.

“W2!” he cried.

She’d been at home with her parents for the past two days, explaining her decision to go to New York. Her parents wouldn’t let her leave. She wasn’t exactly locked up, it wasn’t house arrest, no, but tears and yelling, her mother hysterical, her father calm and sensible as usual, but on her mother’s side. It was horrible. Her mother had called her irresponsible, inconsiderate, ungrateful, she had everything here, she could just as easily go to college in Poughkeepsie if she absolutely insisted on going to college, what in heaven’s name did she hope to find in New York, that godless city, nothing but noise and violence.

She didn’t know, was all she could ever say to her mother. She just knew that she wanted to live in New York.

Tomorrow she was hopping a bus to Manhattan. Next week she was starting a job as a night nurse at Manhattan General—just a training position at first. Definitely not an easy job, but she had to make money somehow, her own money. She talked as if they were alone, but the whole world was listening in. It was against radio etiquette to talk about personal matters, and of course she knew this and kept stammering out apologies—“Sorry, sorry”—which only made her sob even louder.

“Can we see each other?”

He was alarmed. He thought of the men turning up regularly at his apartment of late, and how unpleasant it would be to have to lie to Lauren when she asked about his work, to tell her everything was great. “I have to be out of town for a while, traveling,” he said. “I’ve got this new job.”

“Oh.” He heard her sniffle. “How long?”

“Two months,” he was pained to answer. Emptiness. Static.

“I’ll call you in two months, Joe.” He heard voices in the background. Someone knocked on the door, then Lauren broke the connection.