Mrs. Friedlin refused to leave until she heard from Max, while Mr. Friedlin insisted on forging ahead without him, partly on principle, but mainly as a courtesy to Ted, Sang, and me. He scoffed at our assurances that we’d be just as happy ordering a couple of pizzas. “Forget pizza,” he said. “You can have pizza anytime you want. Tonight we’re going to eat some real food.” “Maybe we should wait a few more minutes,” Sang suggested, glancing at Mrs. Friedlin for support. “Go ahead,” she told us, breaking the stalemate with a wan smile of encouragement. I got the feeling she’d be just as happy to do her worrying in private. “There’s no sense ruining everyone’s night. When Max gets back, we’ll catch up with you at the restaurant.” It was a little weird to just leave her there and head out into the night, but it was also a relief to finally get moving. Mr. Friedlin must have felt it too. As soon as we stepped outside, he closed his eyes and inhaled the New Haven damp like a man who had just been released from prison.
