I follow behind her into the kitchen. "Today I'm prepared. I've got my Social Security card, my driver's license, my passport, a Xerox copy of my birth certificate, every piece of mail I've ever received from NYU, and my letter of acceptance. This time I won't be told I don't go there, haven't completed the last semester, haven't paid my tuition from last year, haven't paid my library fees, don't have the correct ID number, Social Security number, proof of my address, the right forms, or simply don't exist."

"My, my, my." She opens the fridge. "Bourbon?"

"Orange juice would be great."

"Kids." She rolls her eyes and points me to her old air conditioner sitting on the floor. "Darling, let me get the doorman to help you carry it."

"No, Gran, I got it," I say, trying valiantly to heave the machine into my arms before slamming it back down on the tile. "Yeah, okay, I think I'm going to have to come back later with Josh and get this."

"Joshua?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Your little blue-haired friend? He weighs five pounds soaking wet."

"Well, unless we want Dad throwing his back out again, that's about all I have to choose from in the boy department."

"I chant for you every morning, darling," she says, reaching for a glass. "Come on. Let me whip you up some Eggs Benedict."

I glance up at the old Nelson wall clock. "I wish I had time, but I've gotta get downtown before the line at the registrar is around the block."

She gives me a kiss on both cheeks. "Well, then bring that Joshua by at seven and I'll feed you both a proper meal-you're disappearing!"

Josh groans and rolls slowly onto his back from where he has nearly

blacked out after dropping the air conditioner outside my front door. "You lied to me," he wheezes. "You said it was on the third floor." "Yeah?" I say, shaking out my lower arms while leaning back against the top stair.

He lifts his head an inch off the floor. "Nan, that was six flights.

Two flights a floor, which makes this technically, like, the sixth floor."

"You helped me move out of the dorm-"

"Yeah, why was that? Oh, right, because it has an el-e-va-tor."

"Well, the good news is that I'm not planning on moving out of here, ever. This is it. You can visit me up here when we're old and gray." I wipe the sweat off my forehead.

"Forget it-I'll be hanging out on your front stoop with the rest of the blue hairs." He drops his head back down.

"Come on." I pull myself up by the banister. "Cold beers await." I unlock all three locks and open the door. The apartment feels like a car that's been sitting in the hot sun and we have to step back to let the scorching air blow past us into the hallway.

"Charlene must have closed the windows before she left this morning," I say.

"And left the oven on," he adds, stepping behind me into the tiny entryway that also does double duty as a kitchen.

"Welcome to my fully equipped closet. Can I toast you a bagel?" I drop my keys next to the two-burner stove.

"What are you paying for this place?" he asks.

"You don't want to know," I say, as we push the air conditioner across the room together in little shoves.

"So, where's the hot roommate?" he asks.

"Josh, not all stewardesses are hot. Some are the matronly type."

"Is she?" He stops.

"Don't stop." We resume pushing. "No-she's hot, but I don't like you assuming she's hot. She flew to France or Spain or something this morning," I huff as we round the corner to my end of the L-shaped studio.

"George!" Josh cries out in greeting to my cat, who's sprawled out on the warm wooden floor in despair. He lifts his gray, furry head half an inch and meows plaintively. Josh straightens up and wipes his forehead with the bottom of his Mr. Bubble T-shirt. "Where do you want this sucker?"

I point to the top of the window.

"What? You a crazy lady."

"It's a trick I learned on the Avenue, 'so as not to interfere with the view.' Those without central air go to great lengths to hide it, darling," I explain as I kick off my sandals.

"What view?"

"If you smoosh your face against the window and look left you can see the river."

"Hey, you're right." He pulls back from the glass. "Listen- this whole Josh-heaving-heavy-machinery-up-to-balance-on-sheet-of-glass-thing, not gonna happen, Nan. I'm getting a beer. Come on, George."

He heads back to the "kitchen" and George stretches up to follow him. I use the moment alone to grab a clean tank top out of an open box and pull off my sweaty one. As I crouch behind the boxes to change I catch sight of the red light from my answering mac

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