CHAPTER 17
Lisa and Ryan climb into the back seat of a yellow taxi. Ryan says, “Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
“Are we in a hurry today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll do my best.” The cab driver speeds out of the parking lot and onto Interstate 95 south. “If the traffic’s kind, we’ll reach the museum in an hour.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan rests his hand on Lisa’s. “How’re you doing?”
“Okay. Better, now that you’re traveling with me. It’s been quite a journey. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real—like I’ll wake up soon. But, of course, that doesn’t happen.”
“I know I tease a lot, but I do it to lift some of the heaviness. I hope you don’t think I’m minimizing your experience.”
“Not at all, and I’m grateful for the levity. There’s too little in our lives right now. What does surprise me are the memories that
