Delores walked slowly west down 14th St, staring down at the pavement, seeing nothing, automatically moving around the rush hour people hurrying to subway, bus, train, hurrying home to loved ones. Loved ones. Thinking of the loving man who no longer waited at her apartment made her freeze for a moment. A scurrying New Yorker bumped into her and brushed by with a "Watchit, lady."

A phrase on the sidewalk, lettered in yellow chalk, with three blue flowers by it, caught her eye. She stopped to read it:  Today is the first day of the rest of your life. The old hippie slogan almost made her groan; her mother quoted it so often. She walked on, and stopped to read another phrase, chalked in yellow  in the same hand. This one had four blue flowers. One had a green stem and leaf. It read, Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace. W. Shakespeare. She stood still, letting the cold wind cut at her eyes until she was sure she wouldn't cry out loud, right there on the street. Tony got a laugh from reading graffiti, and sometimes tipped the artists if he saw them making one. She wondered if he'd seen these. She remembered he wouldn't be coming this way tonight. He was going somewhere else, as he had for the past two weeks. Ever since the fight she refused to settle.

Delores walked across Union Square, past the pizza restaurant where they liked to grab a slice on some nights when they came home late. The smell of pepperoni made her mouth water, but she had no appetite. She'd heat a can of soup at home. She considered Union Square her home neighborhood, although her apartment was several blocks away. She had lived there for ten years, the last four with Antonio. Her Tony. Hers and hers alone. Until two weeks ago.

He came home from work excited, bringing her a bouquet of yellow and orange Gerbera daisies. He'd been offered a job he had not expected to get. A transfer to manage the Greenbaum's grocery store in the Brooklyn neighborhood where he had grown up. He was full of plans. The old manager had decided to retire unexpectedly. Mr. Greenbaum offered Tony the job as soon as he applied for it. It had happened that very day. She knew of his desire to leave the corporate offices of Greenbaum's Groceries and manage his own store. To get the store in his old neighborhood was like a winning lottery ticket.

His parents wanted to sell their house and move in with his sister, who had two young children and an apartment in her house where they could live. They would sell their house to him at a good price. He would have his dream job, and he spoke of his plans for the Greenbaum's he would manage. They would have a house; they could get married and start their family. He went on and on, as she sat there, numb, until he said he was going to call his parents to tell them the good news.

"Stop," she said, so quietly he asked her to repeat what she said.

"I said, 'Stop'."

"Why? What's wrong? Delores, we want to get married. This is a great opportunity for us."

"I don't want to move to Brooklyn. We never discussed Brooklyn. We've been so happy downtown."

"But, baby, this apartment is only two bedrooms. We need a bigger place to raise a family. And you know you can get a transfer from the Department of Motor Vehicles. That job drives you nuts, the lines, the grouchy people."

"But Brooklyn. I thought Queens." Queens, where she had grown up in a quiet neighborhood, and lived until she was 22, when she got the place on 8th Street.

"Queens, Brooklyn. If they'd offered me a store in Queens, I'd have taken it."

"I..."

"Yes," he looked at her kindly, the look that had first attracted her to him, five years ago, when he was assistant manager at the Greenbaum's near her apartment. It was an attraction that  brought her back to Greenbaum's again and again, although the store was often too expensive for her budget. It was all worth it when Tony noticed her too, and asked her out. Now, they were living in her apartment on 8th, and he wanted to go to Brooklyn!

"Brooklyn is so far out! Your parents' house is nice, but it's almost out to Coney Island."

"You like Coney Island. You like my parents' house. Four bedrooms. I can walk to the grocery store from there."

"You made plans, got another job, bought a house, all without thinking of me," she began to cry.

"Now, sweetie, don't cry. Think it over for a day. You'll see how good an idea it is. Both of us want to stay in New York City, and we'll always be struggling in Manhattan. In Brooklyn, we can get ahead. Junior Greenbaum likes me."

She stopped crying. "Is that all you can think of? Your career,"  knowing it was unfair as she said it. This would be a good move for his career, but moving to Brooklyn, giving up her Manhattan apartment, dinky as it was, the life they led there, felt like the end of her youth, her life, her hopes.

"You know how much I like Manhattan. How good it is here for us. We go to the Farmer's Market at Union Square, the movies, a play occasionally. We go to brunch on Sundays. If you go to Brooklyn, you'll have to work Sundays."

"I worked Sundays when we met, remember. It's only the last two years I've been in the Corporate Office. Who knows, in five or ten years I may be back in Corporate. My parents' house—our future home—is only half a block from the subway."

"You've just settled everything, haven't you? I may not be able to get a transfer. What makes you think I want to ride into Manhattan every day? From Brooklyn?"

"Hon, you want to change jobs. There are city jobs in Brooklyn if you don't get a transfer from the DMV. You could work at Greenbaum's."

"Oh, no, no, no. Not in a grocery store again. I did that all through high school and junior college."

"Ok, just temporary, I meant, if you needed to."

"I don't need to. I've worked eleven years for the State and I don't want to leave."

"Sweetie—"

The argument got worse, until finally Tony left. He returned the next day, packed a suitcase and left again. She sat in the living room, watching him in a stony silence, with Daisy, their mutt, on her lap. Daisy trotted over to the door, thinking it was time for her walk and the man was going to take her out. After he left, she took Daisy out, watching him diminish and disappear in the distance. She hadn't seen or heard from him since.

Oh, Tony, why don't you come back home?

Somebody jostled her, and she came back to the present. She hurried home, and took Daisy out briefly. When they returned, she threw out the dried remnants of the Gerbera daisies. She fed Daisy and heated a can of soup for herself. She hadn't been shopping since Tony left. This was the last can left, and it was his favorite--Italian Wedding Soup. She couldn't taste anything. As she washed the pot and spoon and bowl, Daisy went over to the door and sat by it. It was almost the time when Tony used to come home, and Daisy was waiting for him to come up the stairs, give his familiar knock, which was knock-knock...knock-knock, on the door before opening it, and take her for her walk. Delores called the dog away and watched TV until it was time to walk her before going to a half empty bed.

The next morning was Saturday, and Delores had the day off. She rode the subway out to Brooklyn, to the stop Tony would use if, no, when he moved out there. Her heart ached at the thought he'd be there without her. She didn't walk past the house, but she knew it well, and looked at it from the corner. Two story white house, basement, tiny front yard, garage, tiny back yard. A yard would be good for Daisy. Maybe he'll take her with him. She walked around block after block, as though she were seeing the neighborhood for the first time. She walked past the Greenbaum's he would manage. She walked past clothing stores, restaurants, and little food stores. Churches and a synagogue. Schools. A police station. Coney Island not too far away, and Brighton Beach beyond that. Manhattan just a subway ride away. After a few hours she rode the subway home to Manhattan. She walked home slowly, past grocery stores, churches, schools, and shops. The same cold wind that blew in Brooklyn. Not too different from Brooklyn. And she didn't have Tony, who brought her roses or daisies or some exotic flower whenever he had great news or just because.

In her apartment she began to cry. She cried for an hour. Daisy nudged her, trying to comfort her. Finally, the tears stopped. I want him back. Home is with him, in Manhattan or Brooklyn or wherever. I don't know where he is. He's not in the office much, and I don't want his co-workers gossiping about this. I could call his parents, but they might be mad at me. Suppose he doesn't want to call back? What to do?

She thought and thought but nothing came to mind. The next morning was Sunday. She shopped, getting some of Tony's favorites, just in case. She walked Daisy and cleaned the apartment. She stopped to read a grafitto.  Home, that's where the heart is, with two blue flowers under a roof, holding leaves. She got an idea. She bought a box of sidewalk chalks, hurried home and spent hours planning what she would write and where she would write it.

On Sunday afternoon, she went to the building where Greenbaum's had its corporate offices. She drew a picture of Daisy on the sidewalk, holding flowers in her teeth. It was a lousy picture, but he would recognize Daisy. In a bubble from Daisy's head she wrote, How do I get to Brooklyn?

At the next corner in the direction of her apartment, she drew another picture of Daisy holding flowers. Daisy was pointing in the direction of her apartment, six blocks away. She drew a picture on every corner, and then went home.

Monday evening she got home early, rushed Daisy through her walk and sat down to wait. Daisy went to sit by the door at the time Tony was expected, waiting for a knock-knock...knock-knock that didn't come. The next night she and Daisy waited in vain again, and she began to worry. What if he had left the corporate offices, already? What if he was mad and didn't want to come back? She jumped every time the phone rang and ran to answer it, but none of the calls were from him. Eventually she went to bed but slept badly.

The third night she resolved to find him some way if he didn't contact her. Apologize. Beg. She would write him at his parents' house, or call his office, or go to the Greenbaum's in Brooklyn where he would be. Until she was sure, one way or the other, that they could get back together or that it was truly over. Daisy went and sat by the door at her usual time, and Delores watched the door almost as eagerly. Well past the time when he would come, she decided to walk Daisy early and go to bed, for she was tired from the sleepless night before.

Daisy stood up and pawed at the door. Her tail wagged furiously. Knock-knock...knock-knock.