A Five-Minute Life

We continued through the museum and to the Egyptian galleries I’d been so excited to see. But once there, I wasn’t as moved as I’d been by the Vermeer.

“I love the artifacts,” I said as we passed a bright blue hippo in its glass case. “I love the history and rituals. That’s all still there but…”

“But what?” Jimmy asked.

I put my hand to the glass display that held a fragmented stone sculpture of a king’s face, nothing left of his eyes or head.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “It feels different. Like that part of me that was obsessed with Egypt is gone now.”

I couldn’t describe it any further until we headed to the Sackler wing and stood in front of the Temple of Dendur that had been moved from Egypt, brick by brick, across the Atlantic and reassembled here.

I expected my breath to be stolen away at the sight of the temple

and the two huge statues that sat guard over it. But I shivered and rubbed my arms.

“A tomb.”

Jimmy glanced down at me.

“It’s not,” I said. “That’s a sanctuary, not a tomb, but the amnesia… That’s what it felt like. A tomb, and Blue Ridge was the pyramid in which all things I needed for life were stored. But it wasn’t life. This is life, and I don’t need the pyramid anymore. I’m free.”

We stood side by side in front of the monument. I inhaled through my nose and let it out.

“Okay,” I said, slipping my hand into Jimmy’s. “I’m ready to go.”

We headed to the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit and stayed until we’d seen as much as I felt Jimmy could take before he grew bored—and we headed back into the brilliant sunshine, and the space between us didn’t seem so far anymore.

“Item number two on my list,” I said. “Have a picnic in Central Park, then walk across the Bow Bridge. I’m starved.”

“How about a hot dog?” Jimmy asked with a nod at a vendor on the street a little way from the museum.

“I am in desperate need of a hot dog.” I gasped, and I gripped Jimmy’s arm, staring at him with wide eyes. “That’s what she said.”

He smirked. “Let me guess. The Office?”

“I’ve been waiting two years to say that,” I said. “My life is complete.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, woman. Let’s go get you a hot dog.”

We bought two hot dogs, two lemonades and two little bags of chips, and took them to a bench shaded by a huge oak tree to eat.

After we ate, Jimmy balled up his napkin. “I think I need seconds.”

“I’m on the job,” I said, jumping to my feet.

“No, I got it.”

“Not this time.” I kissed his cheek. “B-R-B.”

I came back with another hot dog for him, extra mustard and relish, like his first.

“Shit, I forgot napkins.”

“Thea, wait. I’ll go.”

“Nope. You’re eating.”

I went back to the vendor, practically skipping with happiness and returned with a pile of napkins.