In the hallway, she met Hugh, who was stepping off the elevator.
“Hey, I got ice cream. And they had Mallomars.”
“I have to go.”
“Where?”
“This was a terrible mistake.”
“What are you talking about? It was great. Where are you going? Come back in. I have rum raisin and vanilla Swiss almond. Don’t be silly, Casey Cat.”
“I saw Pearl Necklace. The thing in your closet. I thought it would be funny to watch it with you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I had no business doing that. I went to get a shirt to wear. You said the same thing that. . . guy says to the girl. ‘Can you finish me off?’ ”
“What are you talking about?” He looked incredulous.
“I can’t talk about this.”
“So I watch porn. I never thought of you like that girl. She’s like a hundred. I use it to jerk off, I don’t actually follow the story.” Hugh looked at her incredulously. “Why are we having this discussion in the hallway? Come back inside.”
She shook her head slowly, unable to move from her spot. “I’m sorry. Never mind. You’re not a bad guy, Hugh. I shouldn’t have called. I just will never forget. . . that picture. You know? I’ll always think of it when I’m with you.” Casey had never felt so viscerally revolted before. It wasn’t Hugh’s fault, was it? This was something he had every right to do, but she couldn’t imagine him ever touching her without thinking of that woman in her fake pearls making those over-the-top sex groans.
“Casey. C’mon, Casey. Don’t be ridiculous. We can talk about this.” He unlocked his door. With his free hand, he gestured for her to come to him. His brow wrinkled with concern. “Casey—”
“I know you’re not like that, that’s not what I’m saying.” Casey closed her eyes, trying to forget what she’d seen, but she couldn’t. The image only seemed to burn brighter. Men had these fetishes, she knew that, but she’d never imagined it would be so ugly.
“Casey. I don’t see you that way. You’re my friend. You must know that.” Her disbelief was apparent, however.
“We are friends, Hugh. I know. I’m sorry about this evening.”
“Okay,” he said. Casey was now pushing the button for the elevator. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I have to go. Bye.” The elevator door opened, and she disappeared into it.
In front of Hugh’s place, there were many cabs, but Casey walked back to the Gottesmans’， moving briskly through the clammy air.
15 SKETCH
CHARLES HONG DID NOT KNOW WHO SHE WAS. The only reason he answered the door at this hour in the morning was that he’d seen from the window that it was a young Korean woman.
“I’m Casey,” she said, wondering if he’d let her in. “May I?” She peeped into his living room. His house was enormous.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” Charles was getting annoyed. Was she a former student from Juilliard? “And this isn’t a good time. Maybe you can come by tomorrow. I’m home on Saturdays.” He checked his watch: 7:10 on the dot.
“I’m Leah Han’s daughter. You know, Deaconess Cho? She sings in your choir. I realize that it’s very early, but I have to get to my office, and this was the only time I—”
“Oh.” Charles opened the door wider. “Is she all right?”
Casey walked into the living room. She didn’t sit down but stood by the grand piano near the front window. On top of the dusty piano was a thick pile of handwritten sheet music.
“My mother told me that you’re a composer. Besides directing the choir.”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“This? Did you write this?” Casey smiled at him almost flirtatiously, touching the papers on the piano. The markings were beautiful.
Charles smiled at the young woman. She was attractive, but she didn’t look anything like Leah. Maybe her open brow and the fair coloring. The height threw him off.
“It’s a song cycle. The world premiere is in—”
“Where are you?” Kyung-ah called out, descending the stairs. “Professor—” She laughed.
It was her mother’s friend, Kyung-ah ahjumma. She was wearing a tight black skirt, a rose-colored lace brassiere, and no panty hose. Her toenails were dark pink against her powdery white skin. Casey had never realized how beautiful Kyung-ah ahjumma was. Dishabille, she was ravishing in a dangerous sort of way. The choir director’s teeth were clenched, as if he were trying to lock up his mouth. In contrast, he was fully dressed: jeans, white shirt, and navy socks.