Sin Sin

It was dark, the red paint of the walls turning the yellow glow of the lamps fiery orange .  Only a few people had yet arrived, but the music already made it difficult to navigate.  The beat seemed to deepen the haze that seemed to permeate the club, though smoking had been banned indoors for awhile now.

Emma made her way to the top floor, where Cameron was likely to be found.  She preferred the music played on the second floor, but she was not about to hang out alone.  She came to avoid that loneliness, after all.

She found him sitting at the bar, nursing what was most likely a Tokyo Iced Tea – more or less a Long Island plus Midori.  He was watching the bartenders prepare for the upcoming Saturday night.  She went to stand next to him in his line of sight, arms folded casually on the bar.

“Hey.”

“Well, hello.”  He smirked, turning his gaze to her.  “So—“

“Yes, I changed my mind.  Don’t start.”  She lifted herself up onto the barstool and waved over one of the bartenders.  “I’m here, and that’s what matters, right?”

Cameron raised his hands defensively, though the smirk still curled his lips.  “I wasn’t going to say anything!  Just wondering what you wanted to drink, that’s all.”

The bartender was tall and lanky, with red curls tickling just the tips of his ears and a splash of freckles coloring the bridge of his nose.  He flashed an easy grin as he drawled in a thick Irish brogue, “Hello, love, what can I do you for?”

Emma eyed Cameron’s drink.  “What are you drinking?”

“Midori Sour.”

She blinked, surprised.  “Oh!  Huh.”

“I’m promoting tonight.  I need to last.”  Cameron gave her a knowing grin.  “But you can go ahead and get the Tokyo Iced Tea.”

She shrugged, turning to the bartender and nodding.  “Well, why not?  I’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

Allen Street

Emma hummed softly to herself, dodging the miscellaneous debris scattered haphazardly on the sidewalk -- discarded items left over from the open hours of the Chinese grocery store that spanned the block.  It wasn't that late yet -- there were people lined up, waiting for the next bus to Boston, or Philly, or somewhere -- and the companionship of such strangers passing her on the street comforted her.

She loved NYC.  She spent quite a bit of her time on her own, and preferred it that way when wandering the streets of Manhattan.  Given, she had traced this path up to the East Village many times before, but even tired old routes were a welcome solitude.  Yet with the sounds and crowds, and other varying stimuli, it was often difficult to feel so alone as to be lonely.  Not impossible though, she conceded.  There were times it was difficult to be a single digit when it seemed everyone passing by were in twos or threes, or any number greater than one.  She sighed at her train of thought, pausing briefly at the intersection of Delancey to wait for the light to change.  Great, was she going to delve into self-pity now?  Again?

Biting her lip, she trotted across the street.  She knew better than to be so overdramatic.  She was far from hermetic, far from an introvert -- she was on her way to meet a bunch of friends for her Tuesday night weekly rendezvous at the Sly Fox.  She ought to feel ashamed to even remotely consider herself isolated.

Or maybe her situation was just ironic?

Shifting her purse to the other arm, she fingered the keys in her pocket to reassure herself that she didn't lock herself out of her apartment.  Maybe she ought to see a therapist.  Maybe he'd be cute.  She snickered to herself.

Feeling more than hearing her cellphone ring, she pulled it out of her pocket.  "Hey Cameron!"

"Heya, doll!"  Doll?  He was on tonight.  "Change of plans..."

Midtown West

Emma yawned, rubbing Thatcher gently between the ears as he purred next to her.  She had arrived nearly an hour ago at Cameron's apartment for a bit of house cleaning and to feed the kitten while he was away.  Of course, most of the time was actually spent cuddling Thatcher and watching TV -- cable was a luxury that she did not care much to indulge in on an everyday basis and so did not have it at home.  Unfortunately, when she did find herself in one of those rare instances that she had access to cable, she also ended up finding herself a living zombie.

Emma jumped, startled by the sudden ringing of her cellphone.  The abrupt movement sent Thatcher skittering off of the couch with a plaintive, accusing yowl and she spared him an apologetic glance as she reached over for the noisy electronic.  It was Julie.  "Hey!  How are you?"

"Hi! I'm good, how are you doing?"

Emma cradled the phone in her ear as she finally began the house cleaning she had originally arrived to do.  "Mm, could be worse."  She dug underneath the sink for the watering can and shoved it underneath the faucet.  "I'm at Cameron's.  House cleaning."

"Ha! You, domestic?"

"I know, right?"  She switched the phone to her other ear as she lifted the can to begin watering Cameron's plants.  "He's out of town for the week.  I figured it was the least I could do.  Though, to be honest, it's thanks to you that I'm getting anything done.  I was zoning out in front of the TV when you called."

"You're welcome!"

"So how are things," Emma drawled, pausing by the kitchen table.  "Adjusting to California?  I still can't believe you moved so far away!  I miss you!"

"I miss you too!  Cali is alright.  Weather is fantastic, but I think I'm more used to East coast hustle.  I'm still in a city, but it's no New York.  Though maybe it'd be different if I actually left the house once in awhile.  Rich is always at work and he's the one with the friends out here."

"I imagine a professional photographer would have quite the network."

"... Yeah," Julie muttered.  Emma could hear the scowl on her best friend's face.  "Models and important people -- let me tell you, I think they're all trained to be able to make you feel plain and insignificant."

"Julie, you're gorgeous!  Rich loves putting pictures of you up everywhere!"

"Pfft."  Emma imagined Julie waving her hand dismissively in the air.  "Let me tell you, it's not so much flattering as irritating when you're the only one being surrounded by pictures of yourself.  I'm the only one spending any time at home!"

Emma rolled her eyes, moving to pour the remaining liquid in the watering can into the sink.  "It probably just seems that way because you spend so much time there alone."

"True.  I can't wait until I find a job."

"I can't wait until I can come visit you!  Did I mention I miss you?"

"Emma, the wedding was not even a month ago, when we spent an entire week pretty much living and breathing each other.  And I only just moved out here last week.  Give me some time to live and breathe my actual significant other."

"I knew it, you're cheating on me!"

Julie laughed.  "You're a kook, you know that?  Anyway, the reason I called was to see if you received anymore packages for us."

"Uh," Emma faltered.

Sheepshead Meadow

The sun was shining, warming the field enough to draw out enough New Yorkers to people watch without getting caught.  The weather had been temperate enough that the grass was beginning to take on its more healthy spring green, and the winter wind had already eased into a more breezy tickle than a disarming gust.

The sky was clear, as was the trait of a more wintry season -- fitting as it was only late February -- and the startling blue brought forth nearly forgotten memories of the previous summer days.  And then the ensuing summer nights.

Emma shivered a little, drawing her coat tighter around her.  She sat in the middle of the field, only somewhat concerned with being trampled by the kids playing Frisbee.  She drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms snugly around her legs.  She was more concerned with what was now only minutes away.

It had been months since she had seen him face to face.  A week since she had heard of his return.  Of course, he didn't look her up -- she had been the one to give in and make the call.  While he seemed enthusiastic to see her, she had to sigh at the undeniable fact that he just did not really ever think of her.  It no longer caused her the incapacitating grief it did a year ago, but it still evoked a melancholy she had difficulty shrugging off.

She picked at a piece of grass by her feet, shredding the innocent blade in a matter of moments.  Suddenly, she did not even know why she got in touch with him.  Nor why she had decided to meet him here, of all places, surrounded by memory and heartache.  Not that it meant anything to him, of course.  Just her.  She was such a masochist.

The sound of steps approaching her sent her heart into palpitations that she fought to calm in the seconds she had before turning to face him.  Sufficiently numbed, she raised her gaze to his.  "Hi Jesse."

Think Coffee

"... And then he just walked away."  Emma stared mournfully down into her coffee.

Cameron hummed as he took a bite of his sandwich, pausing to wipe a bit of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth.  "Well, what else was there to say?"

"I know, but.. How could he just walk away so easily?"

"Easy," Cameron shrugged, pulling an extra piece of lettuce from his lunch.  "He had to catch a train.  And you hurt him. "

"I know..."  Silence overtook the table, dominating the conversation while Emma obsessed over her mug and Cameron toyed with the rest of his plate.  Next to them, a couple of students were poring over their books - a tutoring session.  The tutor was a sturdy blond, blue-eyed perfection; the student was no less gorgeous but brunette and full-lipped.  She giggled a bit too loud; he lingered a bit too long over her shoulder.  Emma envied their courtship.

Their romance would be perfect, whereas she would always be alone and desperate.  What was worse was that it was all her fault.

Emma pushed her mug away.  "God, I'm sick of this."  She brought her hands to her face, pressing her fingers against her puffy eyes.  "I don't want to think about him anymore.  I don't want to feel like this anymore." 

"Emma..."

She stood up, abruptly.  "Let's go.  I've got to get out of here."  Without waiting for Cameron to gather his things, she edged her way through the crowded maze of tables.  Despite her efforts to pass by unnoticed, she still disturbed a number of the other cafe patrons, interrupting conversations to squeeze between seats and getting increasingly impatient to just leave.  Her frustration came to a head when she nimbly sidled by a table, only to trip on the strap of a messenger bag strewn haphazardly in her way.  With a startled squeak and a brief struggle against gravity, she shot her arms out in a last ditch effort to brace herself against the fall.

Consequently, she found herself awkwardly draped across the lap of a dark-haired stranger, gripping the edge of his seat -- she'd managed to avoid grabbing his thigh -- and braced against his table.  He had reached up to hold her upper arm instinctively, so it was with his free hand that he helped her regain her balance.

"You okay?"

Emma blushed, avoiding his gaze.  He was cute, in an academic kind of way.  "I'm sorry!"  She pulled away, feeling mortified.

He gave her a lopsided grin, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and tossing long dark bangs out of his eyes.  "No worries.  Take it easy, yeah?"

"Y-yeah."  She reddened even further, turning away to finally escape into the open area of the cafe.   Just what she needed -- bad enough she was already feeling generally horrid, even worse that she made a clumsy fool of herself. 

Cameron caught up to her then.  "Have a nice trip?"

Emma rolled her eyes, smacking his arm with the back of her hand.  "You, shut up."  She began taking angry strides down Mercer Street.  "You know, it wasn't entirely my fault," she muttered, more to herself than to Cameron.

"What, being clumsy?"

"No," she sighed, rolling her eyes.  Her frustration seemed to want to burst through her chest.  "Look, I don't want to talk anymore.  I'm going home." 

"Lame.  You said you were coming with me to Sin Sin!"

Emma shook her head as she turned into the entrance of the subway station.  "I'll see you later.  I just want to be alone right now."  Not waiting for a response, she escaped into the depths of the subway station. 

It was almost soothing, finding a bit of solace in the heat and muffled noises of the metro system.  The mechanical buzzing seemed to reverberate within her, forcing the chaos of her mind into a sort of rhythmic pattern.  She felt the ball of frustration ease up in her chest.

She shuffled her feet, off-beat, as she peered down the tunnel.  The platform was mostly empty, which seemed to match the sudden clarity of her her thoughts.  Wait, where was she going?  Home?  Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alone.  Maybe she should have accompanied Cameron to the club.

But then, what would she have done there?

She felt the tell-tale breeze from the oncoming train before even the sound announced its arrival.  Well, what would she do at home?  Mope, no doubt.  Why was she so eager to be alone with her thoughts? 

What a waste of train fare.  With a self-deprecating roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and headed back towards the turnstiles, dodging people who were rushing towards the open doors of the train that had arrived.  She rummaged through her pockets for her cell phone as she pushed through the gate.  Hopefully, Cameron was not too mad at her for blowing him off. 

She turned too late.  In her hurry through the turnstile, she felt more than saw the person standing on the other side and found herself being steadied for the second time by the dark-haired stranger from the coffee shop.  They blinked at each other for a second before a bemused smirk appeared on his face.  She reddened.  What was it with New York City and its chance meetings?

Breaking free, she fled, mumbling her apologies without listening for a response.  She just could not catch a break!  Stumbling a little up the stairs, she snuck a peek back towards where she left him but he was no longer there.  He must have caught the train.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she slowed as she emerged from the station.  Smooth.

Shaking her head, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Cameron’s number.  “Hey, Cam.  I changed my mind.”

Reflecting

Said to the mirror, slightly cracked and cliche

'Who?'

She answers in like, but I insist on her lead and she pauses to consider as I wait,
Silence.
I hold this conversation often, with every reflection, usually in passing
But this time the correspondence is savored.
Much like the dream while it lasted.

'I am dark. Seeking solitude.'

The world moves.

The room is hushed, the only movement coming from the stage, casting shadows
That dance to the discordant lack of Rhythm.

The sound is moving,

But she holds herself still --
Except for her spirit which drops heavy and then rises in turn
Chasing the guitar but tethered by the drums,

And occasionally the cello.

She wishes to stand but fears for lacking.

'I have no past.'

Penn Station

Her steps sent sharp splashes of water, dousing everyone she ran by.  She herself was thoroughly soaked, her clothing clinging to her like a second skin and hampering her movements.  Yet she maintained her desperate pace, barely registering the plaintive protests of the people she raced by.  He could not leave.  She could not let him leave.

Shoving her way through the doors of Penn Station, she barely skidded to a stop to avoid tumbling bodily down the stairs and had to grip the handrail tightly to steady herself.  Ignoring the bemused gazes of the crowd around her, she made her way to the timetable that hung in the center of the station.  It took a few agonizing seconds -- desperation and hopelessness destroying her concentration -- but she found his train.

Chicago.  4:15pm.  Track 2.

Shivering, she rubbed her drenched arms uselessly to try to incite warmth and willed her body into a brisk run.  Only ten minutes to catch him.  Fleeting thoughts of futility spun through her head as she briefly considered how she would even find him, what she would even say.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she nearly ran face-first into the station official standing in front of platform two.  For a moment they mirrored the impatient gaze of the other until the man cleared his throat.

"Ticket?"

She gasped slightly, hands moving automatically to each of her pockets to search for a ticket she knew did not exist.  "Oh yeah.  Um," she bit her lip, sneaking a quick peek past him to confirm that the train had not left.  "I-I..."  So close!  "I don't..." she choked, frustration beginning to show in the tears that, held back for so long, were now threatening to spill onto her cheeks.  After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head.

The official again mirrored her movement, shaking his head.  "I can't let you pass," he said, not unkindly.  "I'm sorry."

She remained standing there for a moment longer, considering.  Was there nothing she could do?  He pursed his lips, shaking his head and apologizing once more.  Finally, she nodded, her face reddening as she backed away.  How embarrassing -- to run all the way here ultimately for no reason.  She knew it was too late, that there was no point.  She grimaced.  But at least she tried, right?

She surveyed the station briefly before heading to the exit, cutting a dejected figure with her head bowed and shoulders slightly hunched over.  It was over, really over.  This wasn't anything new, of course, but she would be lying if she said she never hoped for a reconciliation.  She swallowed, taking a deep breath to ease the lump that had formed in her throat.

Maybe if she had told the station official, maybe if she explained -- maybe he might have let her through?  She shook her head.  Destructive thinking, let it go.  Let him go.  Maybe this was better anyway.  What was it that they say?  Out of sight, out of --

"Emma?"

She froze, her heart jumping immediately back into her throat.  He wasn't on the train?  "Jesse?"  She felt her mouth go dry as she slowly turned and she discovered that she should have rehearsed this reunion -- suddenly she didn't know what to say.

He stood there, duffel bag in hand, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and -- her heart dropped -- not a little hostility.  She had to avert her gaze.  "What are you doing here?"

"I... couldn't let you leave."

"As if you had any say in that."

"No - I mean, I just wanted to talk.”  She raised her eyes, pleading.  "I didn't want to leave it like it was."

He shook his head but his voice softened. "What else is there to say?"

She shut her eyes, turning her head away to hide the sudden tears that now escaped them as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.  "I don't... I don't know..."  He had to still care. Didn't this hurt him too?

"Look -- we tried the friend thing, but it's not working. It will be better for both of us to just..." He sighed. "Emma, we tried."

"But..." Emma crumpled into herself, trailing into silence.  What else WAS there to say?

"It's not going to change."

"Why not?"

"We can't be friends.  You're not okay with being just friends.  It hurts you even when you say it doesn't." He strode over to her, setting his bag down to hold her by the shoulders - but still at arms-length. "You need to move on.”

"..." She wanted to scream at him, but instead released more of her tears.  “I meant nothing to you, huh?” she said, almost inaudibly.

He shook his head with a sigh, pulling her to him. "Emma, that’s not…."

"Don't touch me!" She stepped back, shaking her head. "You’re giving up, you're letting go.  How was I at all important to you?"

"Emma, be reasonable-"

"How could it have meant anything?"

"It meant - you do mean something to me."

“But you’re leaving.  We will never talk again.”  She lifted her eyes to his, challenging him to deny her words.

"Emma…" he swallowed, turning his gaze away.  He couldn’t deny it.  He bit his lip as she began crying, softly to herself this time. "Oh, come on!  How many times are we going to do this?."  He threw his arms up in the air, shifting his weight impatiently.  “It never changes.  It’s never going to change!  What do you think is going to change?”

She moaned, only sobbing harder.  At a loss for anything more to say, Jesse stood there in silence, awkwardly watching her cry.

After a few moments, he shuffled his feet sheepishly, hesitantly going to retrieve his bag.  "Emma?" he ventured gently.  "I have to go, my train is leaving in fifteen minutes."  She didn't even look up at him, dropping her face into her hands.  He hesitated briefly before turning away.  "Goodbye."  When his steps started fading, Emma finally lifted her gaze to watch him walk away from her until he disappeared amongst the throngs of people who were also taking the trip from NYC to Chicago.

She didn't dare to voice the farewell that tightened her chest and turned her stomach.  Instead, she too turned away, grappling with a deep sense of loss as she escaped out the door to go back home.