A young kid without a shirt stood in front of me and shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody live in there?" he said, pointing to Quin’s house.
I shrugged my shoulders too as something clicked begin me. I turned and stared at the corner of an index card sticking out of the mail slot. Glancing back to the kid, then the card, I pulled it out and read aloud. "I'll talk when you talk."
I pushed the mail slot open and yelled inside, "You can't do this forever. We need to face this.”
Annoyed, I stood and kicked the door, then turned back to the kid. He shrugged.
"You want a few dollars for ice cream or something?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Here, kid." I handed him a twenty. "Have fun. Treat your friends."
I walked around before calling a cab. Darkness already settled over the city, making it a lot louder and neon-colored. I missed my pond. Winter. The ice.
A little boutique caught my eye, so I went inside to find Danielle a gift. Things were still new and fresh, so I looked at simple shirts instead of fancy stuff like jewelry. Hadn't talked to her for a few days and of course it bothered me that it didn't bother me, but she was cute and funny and sexy. Not to mention I'd been wanting to date her since I first saw her, but maybe Chris was right. Maybe I'd never be happy with a woman if I didn't stop building them up so much in my head before talking to them. Asking for disappointment I guess.
"Can I help you, sir?" a man said from behind me.
I picked up a size medium of the shirt in front of me and handed it to him. "I'll take this, thanks."
He tried to convince me to buy a few other pricey things, but I politely declined and stood at the register.
"That'll be $126.97. On sale today."
I didn't flinch at the price as I reached for my wallet and handed him my check card.
He swiped and handed it back to me. "Your card expired, sir."
I pulled out the only cash I had left. "Do you have change for this?"
He smiled as he took the $500 bill and handed me my change, followed by a pink and mauve striped bag. I thanked him and left. As I put the change back in my wallet I saw red marker on one of the hundreds. For a second I thought it was that strange girl's number, but it wasn't. That would've been bizarre.
I hailed a cab and took it to Central Park, where I sat on a bench and wondered what to do about my brother. He wanted me to fix what I had broken years ago, but too many years passed. It shouldn't have mattered to him so much. I considered doing what he wanted. Telling the truth to some lucky news reporter. I considered it for an hour, then called Danielle.
I heard her tell someone else in a whisper that I was just some guy, then she asked if she could call me back tomorrow. I agreed and hung up, not wanting to be "some guy," but not wanting to be Sawyer Reed either.
I leaned back with my arms over my head and felt something crunch in my shirt pocket. I pat over the fabric, then pulled out a crumpled, washed $100 bill with faded red ink.
Nora. Either my lack of attention to detail played in her favor or she'd make a great pick-pocketer.
I debated calling for a while. Half of me wanted to talk to a stranger, the other half ... didn't. Eventually midnight rolled around and I figured she wouldn't pick up anyway, which is exactly why I decided to call. I walked to Bow Bridge, near Central Park. A beautiful, old, ornate bridge that looked even better covered in snow.
When the phone rang instead of going to voicemail I paced the bridge. It stopped ringing, but no one said a word.
"Hello?" I said, clamping my other ear shut.
"Orion, I'm going to call you William Wallace," a barely audible voice whispered. "You kinda look like him."
"Hello?" I said, louder.
Rustling. Buttons pushed. More rustling.
"Hello?" she said.
I laughed. "Hello."
"Who is this?" she said. "I don't recognize the number. You better not be—”
"I'm the weird guy you saw at the restaurant and you're the weird girl who hid your number in my clothes."
A few seconds of silence toured through the phone in between her quiet breaths.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello."
"You called,” she whispered.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I waited.
"I mean, why now?"
I paced in the grass. "Bored, I guess."
"Do you have a habit of calling people in the middle of the night when you're bored?"
"It's actually morning." I smiled. "And no. I don't. Do you?"
"No." I could hear her smiling too. "I don't. Just myself."
"Yourself?"
"Well, I stay up a lot at night and think. Kinda talk to myself a little."
"Or Orion."
She laughed. "You heard that?"
"How did you get your number in my pocket?"
"I didn't. I asked the waitress to do it when you handed her your plate. Thought for sure you'd notice. You must be as oblivious as I am."
"Why me? Or do you have a habit of giving strangers your number?"
"First time since a few years ago. You seemed lonely and I guess ... I guess I am too."
A minute or so of silence went by as I stared at the moon. Definitely one of the more interesting nights of my life, but I kind of liked it.
"Nora?" I disrupted the silence.
"Strange man?"
"It's Sawyer. Why do people think it's only the ones who endure tragedies who need help? We're normal, right? But we need help too." I paused. "Sorry. Don't know where that came from."
"We're not normal. We're our own kind of tragedy. We're all a tragedy somehow."
It took me a few minutes to think of a response, but I lost it when she yelled, "Oh my gosh. No. I'm sorry. Oh my gosh. I didn't know. I'm leaving."
"What are you talking about?"
Something slammed. "Oh my gosh." She laughed. "I pulled over to watch the sunset and I fell asleep until right before you called. Apparently it was someone's private property."
"Oblivious."
"Oblivious to our own demise."
We spent the next few hours talking about everything from favorite colors to philosophies of life. Time snuck by so naturally that I was genuinely shocked when I saw the first signs of the sun making its way back around again.
"It's morning," I said.
"I know," she said. "5:57 to be precise."
"Wow. Well, I guess we should hang up now."
"I guess so. It's been fun, Sawyer. Have a good morning."
"You too. See ya."
"See ya."
I waited a few seconds to see if she'd hang up first, but I could still hear her breathing, so I waited a minute then ended the call. Staring at my phone, I tried to make sense of what happened, but I couldn't. So I stared my phone down until the battery died, then finally decided to hail a cab and make my way home. As much as I tried to ignore it, the thought—or feeling, I couldn't tell—stuck with me. A little on the indescribable side, so I'll just leave you with this.
I couldn't wait to talk to her again.
CH. 8 - Nora
My drive back to New York (still refused to call it home) went too fast. Perhaps it was my dreadful interview pulling me into its claws or I suppose it could've been that charming conversation I had with Sawyer. Six hours long and it didn't seem long enough. Spencer and I never talked for that many hours in the entire however many months we lasted together, if together is what you want to call it. With all of my might, I tried to stop thinking about the voice that filled my mind for the first few hours of the day. He needed to stay a friend. That Sawyer. One, I needed to find the guy on my keychain or I'd always wonder "what if." And two, as nice as he was he just wouldn't be able to handle my lifestyle. I barely could.
Which is why I spent my entire morning and afternoon ignoring my impending doom. See, this wasn't just any interview. It was the kind that you walk into knowing the woman sitting across from you is going to a
sk you difficult questions while that camera stands inches from your face, waiting for you to crack into a million pieces. The kind of interview where you want to smile and nod, never actually answering the questions. While Genevieve curled my hair in long elegant twists, I considered manipulating my interviewer by answering the questions in metaphors, but having already been labeled the crazy girl, I figured it wouldn't be the best idea. After pulling a million ideas out of my head, I decided to do the easiest thing. I'd be myself. The real me. And the world could do whatever they wanted with that.
I sat across from Penelope, my dreaded interviewer. She smiled weakly as I made myself comfortable in front of the cameras. I didn't trust her.
She shook my hand and made small talk as the crew busied themselves around us. I focused on her, not them. My hands wanted to tremble, so I folded them in my lap. My foot wanted to shake a mile a minute, so I crossed my legs and placed one foot behind the other, locking them in place.
The lights dimmed. Candles flickered all around us. A crystal chandelier, barely on, sparkled to my left. Genevieve put my hair behind my right shoulder, touched up my makeup, and stepped away. I wanted to reel her back in before this lady sunk her teeth into me.
I swallowed hard and tried to smile as the interview began. Finally. A few minutes of torture and I'd be on my way to Europe.
"Nora, you've had quite an eventful year," she started. "People are beginning to wonder if you are incapable of staying in a relationship. What do you think about this?"
I didn't smile. "You know, I don't think about it. My life doesn't revolve around men. When I think about this last year I think of the great films I've been lucky enough to be a part of and the wonderful people who have taught me so much about the art of acting."
"There are rumors that you dated Spencer Parks purely to get famous, that you intentionally used him to gain exposure. Do you feel like this is a respectable way to gain roles in films?"
"No, I do not, but when you're young and new and people all around you are telling you how to be and act you forget how to be yourself."
"And who are you exactly? People are a bit upset. They call you a fraud and say that not only did you lie to them, but you lied to a man who loved you, just to get famous."
"Spencer didn't love me. Anyway, if my career depends on which guy I'm dating, then yeah, I did something wrong. That's not the kind of actress I want to be."
"Are you acting now?"
A cameraman inched as close to me as possible. "No," I said, scooting away from the lens.
"How do we know?" She narrowed her eyes.
"Perhaps the fact that you don't know is to my advantage." I remained in the same position since the interview started. Clasped and tucked.
"What are you hiding? I get the impression that you are keeping something from us."
"Yes, I am. I'm keeping myself." I uncrossed my legs. “What does my personal life have to do with my acting?”
She leaned in and her notepad crinkled beneath her hands. "Who are you exactly? Many of us are curious."
The camera inched closer again. I stared at the chandelier, then thought of Sawyer. "I guess," I finally said. "I guess I'm my own kind of tragedy. Just like you." I looked right into the camera lens. "Just like all of us."
Maury called me on my way back to my place, gave me a vocal pat on the back, and told me to prepare myself for multiple reactions. "Some people will love you for that," he said. "And some will hate you."
That's what I expected, but hearing him say it gave me some sort of courage.
London texted me when I got into my house. Nora so sorry. My dad just found out he has to have an emergency open heart surgery next week. Can we reschedule?
Of course, of course. How about I come there? It'd be nice to visit home again, my family.
Is this about mystery picture boy?
Nooooooo.
Mmmmhmmmm.
I'll fly out tomorrow. Call ya when I get there.
I fed Niles, cleaned his water bowl, and made myself a gourmet dinner. Ella taught me a few things last time I visited. That girl can cook. My attempt at her baked ziti recipe was nowhere near as good as hers, but good enough. I set my dining room table for one, picked out a red wine, and sat down as Niles rested by my bare feet. The silence bothered me, so I dimmed the lights, set another place at the table, another glass of wine, and played a little light romantic music on my record player. For the next twenty minutes I pretended, with my very best acting, to be on the most romantic date ever with the most charming man in the world. The one who had my picture in his wallet. We talked and laughed and I think I even embarrassed Niles, who stared at me with a cocked head and big eyes.
I cleaned up the mess from dinner and walked onto my balcony. The cloudy night reflected my mood. A slight breeze played with my hair as I leaned against the iron railing.
I wondered if I'd hear from Sawyer again and thought about texting him, but felt weird about it. He already thought I was weird enough, but the conversation would be nice. The company.
I shoved the idea away and grabbed a book from my shelf, took a few candles outside, and opened up to the first page, but I couldn't concentrate, so I watched the lights throughout the city as they sparkled like the stars the sky didn't show tonight. Hotel lights turned on, some off. Midnight slowly approached and the city was still as busy as ever. I missed the quiet of Ella's house. Growing up in Chicago wasn't the most peaceful place either.
My phone rang.
Sawyer.
My heart fluttered and I reprimanded it for doing so.
"Hello," he said.
"You called."
"Yeah, hey, I don't know, you know how when you meet someone of the opposite sex and you play these mind games. Should I call? Should I wait a few days? How many? Well, there's no pressure here, right? I wanted someone to talk to tonight and I guess I don't really care whether it's weird to call the next day or not." He breathed heavily into the phone. "Why are there always so many rules?"
"Something bothering you tonight, Sawyer?"
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
I laughed. "No."
"Is there anyone on your mind?"
"Well, I just got out of a ridiculous relationship, so I'm not running around looking for love or anything, but there's something kinda ... promise you won't laugh?"
"Nope."
I smiled as I leaned against the railing again. "I have this ... I have a ... never mind. Now I feel stupid."
"I have a thing for this girl, but maybe I built it up too much in my head. She's really nice and our conversations are fine. We get along. It's just kind of an odd friendship but we're kind of dating or are we? She doesn't act like it. I think she's still going on dates with other guys. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much.”
"Do you love her?"
He didn't respond. I waited a few minutes. Gave him some time to think about it while I watched the clouds roll by.
Finally he said, "I don't know if I've ever really loved a girl. How do I tell?"
I smiled. "Are you serious? How old are you?"
A dog barked. "Calm down, buddy."
"What kind of dog do you have?" I said as I rubbed Niles' head.
"Maltese. He gets a little excited about the ducks."
"Ducks?" I sat down again. "I have a Maltese too. I call him Niles."
"I have my own pond. Ducks abound. You have a Maltese named Niles?" He laughed. "This keeps getting stranger."
"What?" I realized I was pacing on the balcony again, so I went inside and sat on my couch.
"Is his name Niles as in Niles Crane? David Hyde Pierce?"
"Don't make fun of me," I joked.
"My all-time favorite show is Fraiser."
"Stop." I laughed. "Now you're being mean."
"I'm serious.”
"You are?"
"Dead serious."
"Weird."
"Very."
Hours piled up on top of each other again as
we talked about our favorite Fraiser episodes, the love story of Niles and Daphne, the time when Niles pretended to do some kind of kickboxing move and knocked Daphne into the table. We laughed and laughed, then drifted into a conversation about acting where I expressed my love for the art and he understood every word I said, without tiring explanations needed. Somehow that naturally drifted into sports, where he passionately explained to me how deep sports can be, depending on the players who make up the team. I can't say I fully knew the feeling, not being a huge sports person, but his passion took me to a place where I could see, taste, and feel every detail he described. And I got it. I understood.
At some point, the sun peeked through my curtains and I didn't remember hanging up the phone. I looked around me, rubbing my eyes. It had fallen beside the couch. Still on. I picked it up and listened. "Sawyer?" Only the sound of his breath, deep asleep. "Goodnight, Sawyer. Or good morning." After a few seconds more, I turned my phone off and fell back asleep as the rest of the city woke up.
When my plane touched down in Chicago I texted London. A few minutes later I met her outside the arrivals doors. She jogged to me and hugged me as though she hadn't seen me in years. I hugged back, pressing my cheek to hers, and thanked her for sticking by me through everything. I was never the type to have many girl friends. I didn't have enemies either, for the most part, until now. Really it came down to being raised around a ton of boys. Since eighth grade I referred to London as the sister I never had, eventually she became the sister I always had so much that I introduced her to others as my sister, not my friend.
We drove to Schaumburg, where she now lived, and sang along to 80's music as loud as possible. From Bon Jovi to MaDonna. Sunroof down, summer sun on our faces and her hair glowing orange. I smiled and leaned back into the seat, enjoying every moment of it.
I turned the music down when we parked in front of her house. "So do you think I can find him?"
She slapped my shoulder. "I knew it!"
I opened my door. "That's not why I came here."
Marilyn Grey - [Unspoken 06] Page 3
