“Not just this apartment.”
“No.”
He almost sounded offended she still needed to ask.
Then remembered why she did.
Danny touched the wall.
“You ordered this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we damaged it.”
She looked at him.
“You really mean that?”
“I do.”
No speech.
No attempt to turn responsibility into romance.
That helped.
“Thank you.”
Ethan nodded.
Then:
“Danny.”
“What?”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
She almost laughed.
“You are persistent.”
“Occupational defect.”
“We’ll see.”
“Don't get carried away.”
“I’ll interpret that as maybe.”
“It was exactly maybe.”
Walter waited longer.
Nearly six weeks.
Then one evening near closing, he walked into Gus’s wearing an ordinary wool coat.
Not the navy thrift-store one.
Gus saw him.
Pointed a spatula.
“If you are poor today, coffee is twelve dollars.”
Walter smiled.
“Fair.”
Danny was wiping tables.
She looked up.
Her face became unreadable.
“May I sit?”
“It’s a diner.”
Walter took the same stool near the radiator.
Danny did not approach for several minutes.
Finally:
“What do you want?”
“To apologize.”
“You've already sent letters.”
“I know.”
She had returned every check.
Walter never sent another.
He had written three letters instead.
No excuses.
Danny kept them.
She did not answer.
Walter put seven dollars on the counter.
The same bills.
Folded.
Danny recognized them.
“You kept that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they were the most expensive money anyone ever gave me.”
Danny said nothing.
Walter continued.
“You looked at me and saw somebody who needed help.”
“I looked at you and saw a way to answer a question.”
“That difference is why I was wrong.”
Danny leaned against the counter.
“What question?”
“Whether people are still kind when they think nobody important is watching.”
She shook her head.
“You know what the problem is?”
“Many things.”
“You decided poor people exist to teach rich people lessons.”
Walter closed his eyes.
That was worse than anything he had said to himself.
Because it was true.
Danny continued.
“You wanted to feel hopeful about humanity.”
“So you put on a costume and let people reveal themselves.”
“You got to go home afterward.”
“You could take the coat off.”
“Some people don't.”
Walter nodded.
“Yes.”
She expected argument.
He offered none.
“I had been poor once.”
He said.
“That made me think I understood the difference.”
“I didn't.”
Danny looked at him.
“Why did you start doing it?”
Walter told her about Margaret.
His wife.
The sentence she used to say.
How wealth changed the way strangers treated him.
How after her death he wanted to know whether kindness remained.
Danny listened.
Then said:
“Your wife sounds smarter than you.”
Walter smiled faintly.
“She was.”
“Did she tell you to lie to waitresses?”
“No.”
“Then stop blaming her.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Walter pushed the seven dollars toward her.
“Please.”
Danny looked.
“I don't want your money.”
“It isn't mine.”