Marion has worked at the café for over three years when she meets Nathan. She is now the night manager, and an integral part of the operation. She does the front-of-house schedule as well as preliminary training of new waitstaff. More important, she’s in charge of ordering for the bar, which means developing relationships with suppliers. She rotates a few personalities to get the best deal: brassy New Yorker, good-time girl/alcoholic, and idiot.
She and the head chef drink regularly together in the basement as Marion pays bills and he works out the specials for the upcoming week. At first it was a glass of wine or two, and now they are sipping tequila out of small plastic cups meant for sauce-on-the-side takeout orders. The head chef is dour and yells to communicate but is essentially a pushover. They gossip about the owner, narrating to each other the latest crazy thing Gabrielle did or said. There is always something new. However, Gabrielle now trusts Marion unconditionally. She still screams at her in a mix of Portuguese and English, but more often than not ends by collapsing into Marion’s arms. I’m so unhappy, the owner says.
Marion earns a little more than minimum wage for managing the restaurant. She transitions from petty theft to full embezzlement when Gabrielle, overwhelmed, hands her the books. Marion promises to do the best she can and teaches herself to forge Gabrielle’s signature. She gives herself a raise.
Nathan comes into the café after work. Nathan at thirty-three wears his hair short and his glasses large. He smiles often. He works part-time at an anarchist bookstore near Marion’s café. Nathan is not an anarchist, not even that political, but he is good at sounding political. Still, it’s exhausting to feign indignation, so when he’s finished for the day, he likes to get a little drunk at the café where Marion works.
He chooses Marion’s café because it’s nearby and because of the large windows. It is the kind of room that looks pleasant in all weather. He doesn’t like bars because he doesn’t like televisions; he can’t not watch them. This café is quiet around four and five, and so Nathan comes in to drink wine. Between four and five is when Marion likes to check inventory and write fictitious receipts.
At thirty-three, Nathan is not great with women. He’ll be better when he’s in his forties. Marion will be part of the reason that he’s better.
The first conversations happen about wine. Nathan knows nothing except that he likes it, and Marion knows a lot but doesn’t judge. He tries new wines with her, and they talk. Marion lets her hair be big, and has wide hips but a slender waist, which is accentuated by the apron. Her breasts are large, and if Marion’s mother taught her anything, it was how to purchase and maintain a bra.
Marion manages the conversation, because Nathan is first a customer and then a regular. She knows how to deal with regulars at this point, has developed her own style of familiarity, which is warm but cautious. She harbors no animosity toward the customers, she says with her voice. Nathan responds to her persona by tipping well.
At first he sits at a table by the window, and the conversations happen with Marion standing and cradling an open bottle of wine. This is awkward for Nathan, so he sits at the bar, even though it is away from the window. Marion notices the move and begins to shift the persona slightly. She doesn’t do this often, preferring the distance, but there is something about Nathan that is trustworthy. It may be the age difference; Nathan has mentioned that he is in his thirties. But she also thinks he might see her as a person. If they saw each other on the street, Nathan would greet her easily, Marion believes.
Nathan keeps a notebook open as if he is going to write, but it is a prop. He is aware, though, that he wants to write in front of her. He wants to impress her, and the only thing he finds impressive about himself is his ability to focus. He sometimes claims he isn’t even that smart but he is able to concentrate in a way that other people aren’t.
He will say this later to Marion, after they are married, and he will say it often when he is feeling expansive. It is only after Jane is born that Marion will admit how patronizing she finds this statement, but her anger comes later. At the café, the notebook works, and when he eventually summons up the courage to ask her out, Marion accepts. Nathan seems interesting. Also rich. Marion looks at the label of his jacket when he’s in the bathroom. It’s not that she’s looking for a wealthy boyfriend. There is another waitress at the café, and she is absolutely out to marry a rich man. Marion looks at the label because there is something unrecognizable in Nathan that he is trying to hide, but he’s also impossibly familiar. She’s not surprised by anything he may do or say.
She can’t lie: on the subway home after he asks her out, she envisions her life with him and how money would make things much easier. A possible future clicks smoothly into place.
Nathan in Bed with Denise
Every day since the police came and went, Denise arrives at the Palm brownstone around ten, searches the basement, and then joins Nathan in his bed. The first time, Nathan had to remove her clothes for her, even her shoes. Now, days later, she undresses herself but is still distracted.
Denise says, “Explain to me, where do you think that money came from? Why do you think she left it there?”
Anna Fisher stands in her foyer and tells Nathan that Marion has been stealing. “To be honest,” Nathan says to Denise, “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Incredible,” Denise says, and leaves unspoken: It is incredible what you, Nathan Palm, don’t think about.
How can he explain that his wife’s secrets are strange, severe, vast, and undiscoverable? He’s more troubled by the phone, because it could mean that Marion isn’t coming back this time. He can’t say this sort of thing to Denise. He’s sure of that, at least.
She stands to put on her clothes.
“Please don’t go yet,” he says.
“Why not?” Denise says.
Nathan is ashamed of his answer, so he doesn’t say it.
“Incredible,” she says.
Brighton Beach