No
I didn’t want to go. It was almost an afterthought. Packing was always such a hassle and I had never bothered to travel light. But I couldn’t stay anymore. Being there was choking me. I felt strangled and I couldn’t breathe. I had to leave; else I would cease to exist. I wanted to live, live in my own way and I couldn’t do it over there.
Minute Friends
Waiting for the subway anywhere in New York City can be boring. Someone approaches a person, starts a conversation. That someone tells the other person something that perhaps they wouldn’t tell anyone else. It is all about being listened to—nothing else matters. The train arrives; the one-way conversation ends. Each person tells the other: Have a nice day. Take care.
Looking
Someone (it was difficult to tell the gender) was stretched out on the seat. The person had been covered with a blanket. A woman took a seat near him or her, almost on the edge. She shook her head. That something like this should be happening here in New York, she thought. A voice came from under the covers. What are you looking at? It was a woman’s voice, sharp and clear. I am sorry the other subway passenger wanted to say. I am sorry. I feel for you. I know what your life must be like.
The Visit
I go there, to the place where I used to live. I can’t help it. It has been such a long time since that time! But something inside me takes me back. I have to walk the streets, see the people; go to my favorite stores. My feet are eager for me to visit every single one of my memories. On the outside, everything looks the same—everything except me. My heart—my heart is the one that hasn’t changed. When I am where I really want to be, even if it’s only for a few hours, my soul is the soul of a woman who is not hard or bitter. It is the woman I like and admire, who believes that dreams can come true. I am the real me again.
The Visit
It was you. It was you all along. Years have gone by, more years than I dare count. Something reminds me of you. My heart whispers your name. It is the only name I care about. Yours is the only name that has ever counted. This amazes me. How can it be? How can feelings that were so alive long ago be alive still as if it was yesterday all over again?
The Scent
The street is dark. It is still summer; the heat is nowhere near over. A woman and her dog walk together. They stop at a modest one-story house with a wire fence. “Can you tell what this is, Baby? It’s jasmine. This flower is jasmine.” A dog barks from inside the house. “Shush. Don’t make a fuss. It’s probably nobody,” a man says.
“It is somebody. It’s my dog and me.”
Feet
Stop! You are holding me by my feet. You are holding me hard. My feet hurt. I know you are taking me to die. I am aware of this. I don’t want to die. I don’t need this stress. What have I done to you that you should want to end my life? What are you going to do with my poor body after I’m gone? I want no part of it, none at all. I want to live and be free to run, to be around those like me.
No Use Again
How many times did I tell myself that I could do it? How often did I say that without you everything would be fine and good? I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I thought I would be over you by now. It’s been such a long time, so many years. The times with you were unique, one of a kind. I wouldn’t have missed them for anything. But later, later without your physical presence, that’s the hard part. I cannot make my life easier when there no you in it. It’s just not possible. I think about us in the past. I get the reminders, things that speak of you. That keeps me going. I still see the sadness in your eyes the day we said no more of this. I wish I could have taken the sadness away.
The Wheels, Part 2
The noise they made. It was like a dentist’s drill, sharp and unbearable to have to listen to. The physical strength to push the cart up and down the streets was amazing. Where did it come from? All the stuff she had piled up in the cart, the red cart first; then the black suitcase. The stuff just kept coming, free stuff, useful stuff. Some of the stuff let her fantasize. When she saw it, she pretended her life was different—different and better. She wasn’t out there anymore; she wasn’t getting caught in the rain most of the time.
No Use
It is no use. There is no getting over you. I thought I could. I did my best
. I tried to get over it and move on. Nothing worked. Your image was everywhere. No matter what I did, where I went, something about you always followed me.
