Pia Moscow (F)

I first met Pia Moscow informally during a basketball game in the old field house at the community college.  I was diving for a loose ball and Pia was sitting on the front row with, coincidentally, two fellow English majors, Mary Thomas and Jackie Furst.

My forehead hit Pia’s right knee and in the moment I managed to grab both her ankles. The ball was in the second row.

I looked up at her from my knees and choked out a quick “Sorry”. Pia reached out her hands and held my face. “Oh, darling boy, you were wonderful.”

I heard a whistle and the crowd was roaring and still I could hear my coach—or in my head at least—“Peterson, get your ass up.”

To this day I swear I never looked at her the rest of the game.

She’s not really a Moscow. Her great grandfather came into Ellis Island a Gregoire Moskowitz and exited as Gregory Moscow. The immigration officer said he was doing him a favor. Some favor.

This nugget she shared with me when after the game—we lost despite my heroics—and after a shower, I ran into the trio at Ollie’s Pizza. Mary made the formal introduction as Jackie kept slapping my shoulder. “You’re a nut, Donnie. A nut.”

“Can it, Jackie. I hope I didn’t hurt you. My head is pretty hard.”

“He’s a nut.”

Pia looked up at me. Her eyes hazel, almond shaped.

“My career is ruined, but I am not that talented. Nothing lost, really.”

“Your career?”

Mary lowered her voice. “Pia is dancing with the city ballet. She is the next chosen one.”

I looked at Pia. “A chosen one? Do you like being chosen, or do you prefer choosing?”

Pia laughed. “You were right, he is a bright boy.”

“I do better on my feet.”

“He’s a nut.”

“Come sit with us, Donnie.”

I again looked at Pia. “If you’ll have me.”

Again, she laughed. She looked far off to the left and then to the right in a stagey kind of way. “Given my choices…please do.”

“Ouch.”

We slid into a booth on opposite sides. Jackie sat next to me.

“Is a cheese pizza okay? Two pizzas? Cokes?”

“Mary, get us some breadsticks. They have the best breadsticks.”

Pia smiled. “I won’t eat more than a slice, maybe two. I dance tomorrow night.”

“Get us two,” I said. “I’m hungry. Here’s towards the bill.”

Jackie leaned in a bit toward Pia. “Donny is the smartest one in our class.”

“And what class would that be?”

“Literary Criticism in the 19th Century.”

“Well that certainly sounds enthralling.”

“It’s no Literary Criticism in the 20^th Century,” I said.

“A difficult choice, no doubt.”

Jackie sat back, shoulders slumped. “It’s Friday and no one’s here tonight.”

“We’re here, Jackie.”

“No, no one is here. See, he is a nut.”

Mary came back with our cokes on a tray. “The pizza will be only twelve minutes.”

“That’s because no one’s here.”

“So, you dance tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Sold out I suppose.”

“I can leave you a ticket and a backstage pass.”

“Hey, what about us?”

Mary reached across the table and slapped Jackie’s hand. “Hush.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Jackie!”

“Ooo, our breadsticks.”

I looked at Pia. She was smiling. “I’ll take them.”

“Good choice.”

Lyman 2024