Like every other Barnes & Noble I’d ever been in, this one was the size of a football field, or a cathedral, and had the high-ceilinged decor of a well-kept lobby in an expensive retirement home. The perfectly geometric layout of fake Oriental rugs and brand-new armchairs, and spotlessly gleaming tables with shiny, clean lamps, insisted upon silence, and made me want to scream. When we stepped inside, Anne’s eyes went straight to the glossy magazines lined up against the wall. “Magazines, Brucie!” Heads turned at this disturbance: eyes leaped from books cracked open, and narrowed upon us. “Shhh…” I said, steering Anne toward the magazines.
Anne grabbed a Washingtonian and clutched it to her chest, her gaze jumping onto one magazine after another. I told her she could have two more. Her face lit up. The first magazine fell to the floor, and she promptly snatched up two more Washingtonians. Same blue cover. Same issue. “I’ll take these, buddy!”
A tall, purposeful-looking man with his beaklike nose buried in a newspaper glanced up and gave us a frown of disapproval.
Anne was now studying a Cosmopolitan that featured “Find Your G-Spot Today.” The cover girl, a Barbie doll look-alike with a come-hither expression in her eyes, sported a cleavage like twin cantaloupes. Did she want the Cosmo? Anne, nodding uncertainly, reached for the magazine, brought it to her nose, and sniffed. “Ummmm…this smells good.” Then she added it to her collection.
A few minutes later, I was glancing through some books and keeping an eye on Anne at the same time. She flopped into an enormous leather armchair nearby. The Washingtonians crushed against her thigh, the Cosmopolitan splayed open in her lap, she began muttering to herself, punctuating her words with little yelps of laughter. Oblivious to the curious stares of passersby, she seemed to have drifted into some other dimension. But her gaze was on me. She was as watchful of me as I of her.