Tuesday, November 25, 2008

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."

Sunday, November 23, 2008

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.”

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

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.'