“Are you warm enough?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “Are you? Would you like my chapeau?”
“Your what?”
“My hat. He’s a beret, so I usually speak to him in French.”
“You speak French?”
“Only a little. I can say, like, ‘Chocolat chaud avec chantilly’ and ‘C’est cool mais c’est fou.’”
“What does that mean?”
“‘Hot chocolate with whipped cream’ and ‘It’s cool but it’s crazy.’ Both surprisingly useful phrases. So, do you want him?”
“I don’t think I was built to pull off a beret.”
“Nonsense,” said Cleo. “The world is your chapeau.”
“You know what?” Frank plucked the hat from Cleo’s head and pulled it gamely over his own. “You’re right.”
“Magnifique,” she said. “Allez!”
They walked east toward Chinatown. A group of women all wearing silver top hats and novelty 2007 sunglasses wobbled past them. One blew a party horn by Frank’s head, and the group exploded into whoops of delight. He pulled the beret back off his head.
“Would it be unfestive of me to say I hate New Year’s?” he asked.
Cleo shrugged. “I usually only celebrate Lunar New Year.”
Frank waited, but she didn’t elaborate.
“So, what was the best part of last year for you?” he asked.
“Just one thing?”
“It can be anything.”
“Gosh, let me think. Well, I switched to an antidepressant that actually allows me to achieve orgasm again. That felt like a win.”
“Wow. Okay. I was not expecting that. That’s great news.”
“Both clitoral and penetrative.” Cleo gave him two thumbs. “What about you? What was your favorite thing that happened last year?”
“God, nothing that can compare to that.”
“It doesn’t have to be that personal! Sorry, mine was weird. I’m embarrassed.”
“Yours was great! That’s a big deal. I just treat my misery the old-fashioned way, with large doses of alcohol and repression.”
“How’s that working for you?”
Frank mimicked her two thumbs up and kept walking.
“Anyway, I think it’s really impressive that you’re taking care of yourself,” he said.
Another group of revelers had broken between them, drowning out this last statement. He clambered around them to return to her side, repeating himself.
“That’s a kind thing to say. I just have a lot of …” She waved vaguely toward a pile of trash spilling onto the sidewalk next to them. “Stuff in my family. I have to be careful.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway. Tell me about your year.”
“Best moment from last year? Probably just work things. I won an award for an ad I directed. That felt really good.”
“How wonderful! Which award?”
“It’s called a Cannes Lion. They’re kind of a big deal in my industry. It’s stupid, really.”
“No, it’s not. I’d love to win an award for something.”
“You will,” he said confidently.
They passed two men, ostensibly strangers, pissing against a wall in comfortable silence. Frank offered Cleo his hand as she hopped over the twin streams of urine. She shook her head.
“Men!”
Her hand lingered in his, and then she pulled it away to rummage in her bag.
“So,” he said. “Do you have someone in particular you’re, um, having these orgasms with?”
Frank was straining for the tone of “curious friend,” but worried he’d ended up more “concerned sexual health clinic counselor.”
“Both clitoral and vaginal?” Cleo teased.
Frank cleared his throat.
“Yes … those.”
Cleo gave him a sly, sidelong glance.
“Just myself right now.”
His face cracked involuntarily into a grin. She laughed.
“Oh, you like that thought, do you? What about you? Isn’t everyone your age supposed to be married?”
“No, they changed that law,” said Frank. “It’s optional now.”
“Thank god,” said Cleo and lit a cigarette.
They wound their way north to Broome Street, past storefronts selling houseplants and psychic readings, chandeliers and industrial-size kitchen mixers. They talked about New Year’s resolutions and what’s in an old-fashioned and who they’d known at the party （Cleo: one person; Frank: everyone）。 They talked about the host of the party, a celebrated Peruvian chef named Santiago, who Frank had known for twenty years. Cleo’s roommate was a hostess at Santiago’s restaurant, which was how she’d been invited, though that roommate had absconded with an Icelandic performance artist soon after she arrived. They talked about Pina Bausch and Kara Walker and Paul Arden and Stevie Nicks and James Baldwin.