A New York Romance

by Winters, Abigail

  There is a deeper love that does not require the ego to be pleased. This is the love I wish for people. It is a love that is beyond suffering and happiness, friends and enemies, self and other, she recalled his words.

  As Mary stormed out of the theater, Charlie happened to be passing by. The girl caught his eye as she was crying and quickly held a cab. He stopped to send her a wish of love. As her cab pulled away, he turned and looked at the marquee in front of the playhouse. Advertised was a play about an Irish family struggling in early New York and the man’s love for his Native American servant. He’s forced to choose between his status among the Irish immigrants and what felt right in his heart.

  Now that sounds like a good love story, Charlie thought to himself. He looked at the program containing the names of the actors and actresses and knew none of them. The stagehand had never got around to making the changes since the lead actress quit.

  Charlie proceeded to the building where Mr. Costea worked several blocks away. On the way he passed by a rather strange clothing store. Vintage clothes hung in the window and on the racks. He felt compelled to enter.

  “May I help you?” the woman asked.

  Charlie remembered he costume shop in the mall. There were no disco of cave girl outfits. It looked like the Partridge family was having a garage sale.

  “Are these costumes?”

  “No,” the owner replied. Charlie noticed the 70’s style of clothes she was wearing. “Everything here is vintage clothing. You look like a man who could use some help with a new style,” she stated, noticing the brown corduroy jacket among the worn out shoes.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Do you like the 70’s look?” which was obviously her favorite, and what she had most of in the store, as if the store was her own personal wardrobe.

  “I prefer something much older,” he said as he remembered Julie’s words, just be who you want to be, even if that means wearing clothes that have been outdated for over two-hundred years. He pointed to such an outfit on the wall and asked if it would fit.

  “I think I might have a few outfits for you,” she said with a smile.

  Charlie tried on a few outfits and purchased them all, choosing to wear one out the door. He noticed the way the clothes affected him. He felt as if he was finally becoming the human he wanted to be, despite the stares of strangers he passed on the street.

  After dropping the other clothes off at his room he proceeded to Mr. Costea’s building. There he confronted the doorman who turned him away so many months ago. Charlie hoped he would not recognize him, as he had been banned from the building again. He walked toward him slowly, aware of each step, looking deeply into the doorman’s eyes as he stood like a statue, greeting the workers and visitors with a smile and an occasional tip of the hat. Charlie looked away as he neared, trying to act like he belonged in the building, wearing his vintage clothes, and hoping the doorman would never really notice his face. The doorman felt his glare between the smiles he flashed at other visitors. Charlie kept walking, his head down, hands in his hip pockets. He approached the door as the doorman said good morning to the sharply dressed woman in front of him, who undoubtedly was a lawyer at one of the firms in the building. Her high heels stood out among the men’s polished loafers. Charlie reached for the door when suddenly the doorman stepped in front of him.

  Charlie looked him in the eye.

  “I know who you are and what you are up to,” the doorman said with a stern look of confidence. His hair was freshly trimmed; Charlie could smell his aftershave as he stood in front of him in his pressed uniform. “My wife showed me your picture in the paper of when you were in the hospital. But I need my job so I can’t let you in.”

  “I understand.” Charlie wished him and his wife a long, healthy, happy life together and turned away.

  “So you should enter through the docking area in the back of the building.” Charlie turned back around as the doorman continued. “You’ll be on camera, but they never check it that closely and that way I won’t get fired for letting you in. The workers are too busy during business hours to worry about you. I trust you’ll know where to go from there,” he instructed.

  Charlie reached into his pocket to give the doorman a tip, but the man waved it off. “Nice threads by the way,” he said. Charlie smiled, wished him well again, and took his leave.

  Charlie snuck into the building through the delivery entrance. Most people just looked at him strangely because of the clothes he was wearing, but he didn’t appear to be a threat. He took the back stairs to the fourth floor. He spotted Mr. Costea heading toward him in the hall. He waited in a deep doorway acting as if he belonged in the office then followed Mr. Costea into the bathroom where the adversary couldn’t call security so quickly.

  Mr. Costea was staring at his lines and judging the work of his razor when he saw a familiar stare in the mirror behind him.

  “What are you doing here?” He turned around overlooked Charlie’s attire. “And why are you wearing those clothes?” Back to his face. “This has gone far enough. Do you know how much trouble you’re…”

  “It’s almost over,” Charlie said with a strong, determined, and almost sinister look. There’s one more thing I’m going to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I tried to do this the easy way but you do not listen very well. So I am going to have to do this the hard way.”

  “Is this some kind of threat?” Mr. Costea said.

  “No it’s not a threat at all. I am going to tell you exactly what I am going to do.”

  “And what is that?” His nervousness crawled from his stomach to his throat. He didn’t know who or how this smaller, weaker man was getting under his skin, but he was.

  “I’m going to kill you at exactly 5:20 PM tomorrow evening. Don’t worry; it will be quick and painless. It will seem as if time is standing still.”

  “I’m calling security and the police,” Mr. Costea said as he headed for the door.

  “Don’t bother,” Charlie put his own arm on the door. “I’ll be gone before they get here,” then he left without another word, leaving Mr. Costea to ponder his fate in that silent bathroom.

  “Mom, I kissed him today.”

  From the tone of Julie’s voice her mother could tell it was something that she regretted, perhaps detested.

  “Who?”

  “Jason, the lead in the play, but only because the play calls for it. He’s such a jerk. I had to imagine he was Charlie. It was the only way I could act like I loved him. Now I know what hookers go through.”

  “Charlie’s been gone a long time and you still think of him that way,” her mother stated the obvious.

  Julie didn’t want to talk about it. She changed the subject saying, “Jason is dating Mary on the side. He’s just going to break her heart. It’s really rare to find a person you can fully trust.” She hesitated then bared her emotions to her mother saying, “I know I could trust Charlie. That says a lot.”

  “Sit down, Juliet.” Jill patted the cushion of the couch next to her. “I need to explain the truth to you. You deserve that much.”

  Julie was hesitant. She was uncertain she wanted to know the truth. She sat next to her mother.

  “One thing I know about love is that there are many kinds of love. Yes, I loved your father, but it was a selfish love. I was infatuated with him. I loved his eyes, his looks, his character. But after spending those years together I was unhappy with him. That kind of love always fades away. I left your father because no matter how much your father loved me, I still felt empty inside. I made the mistake of thinking your father was supposed to make me full and when he didn’t, I thought there must be something else out there. Your father knew of that deeper love. He didn’t need my love like I needed his. He was filled with love already. I saw it in the way he looked at you, at everyone.

  “But I was empty inside. After a while, every time I looked at him, I just felt that emptiness inside. I guess I bla
med him for it. I thought you were better off with him, and...” Jill paused and started to cry.

  Julie placed her hand on her mother’s hand as she continued, “When I look back, I realize I made a lot of assumptions that were mistakes. Your father could never make me happy. No one can. I had to find it in myself first. But I took too long. I missed out on being with your father, who was the perfect man for me all along.”

  Julie hugged her mother with the hope that all her mother’s pain and regrets would instantly fall away.

  “What should I do about Charlie? Should I give up on him?” Julie questioned.

  Jill looked her daughter in the eyes. “I’m saying that even if Charlie comes back, he cannot make you happy, like how your father could not make me happy. True love is something that pours out of you naturally, like how light naturally pours out of the sun. But if he does come back, let him be an ornament to the happiness that is already in you.”

  Her mother paused as she squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly and thought of her Sam again. “Love is the greatest illusion of all to finding true love. You gave up your anger and forgave me. Now you must do something even harder, give up love in order to find true love.”

  Julie paused for a long time then asked, “Did you ever see another man after dad?”

  “No, none that I loved. It took some men to realize your father was the one for me, but I loved no other.”

  They sat silent for a moment, with their eyes filled with tears, missing the man they both loved most in the world. Then Jill said as she petted her daughter’s hair, “Well, tomorrow night is your play. You better get some rest.”

  She kissed her daughter’s forehead, “I know you’ll do well.”

  Julie could feel the love from her mother in that kiss. She retired to her room and stared out the window at the moon. Charlie shared that vision of the moon as they thought of each other, wondering where the other was and if they would see each other again. Down on the street the violinist played a melody, soft and sweet, the kind of melody that could turn an angry, stone heart into a soft, relaxing beat, and tonight, he played for Juliet once again.

  The next morning, Mr. Costea paced his bedroom floor while his wife was downstairs cooking him breakfast. He was nervous about Charlie’s warning, even afraid, but he was not about to let a man like Charlie Daniels get the best of him.

  He dressed himself and went downstairs, passing the picture of his son, as if he never even noticed it, and went into the kitchen. He sat at the breakfast table, nervously tapped his fingers on the table. He abruptly stood up, and said, “I’m not hungry,” as his wife turned around with a plate of eggs, toast, grapes, orange slices, and a bowl of oatmeal.

  He grabbed his briefcase. “You should really eat something,” Mrs. Costea said.

  “I said I’m not hungry!”

  His irritated tone felt like a dagger in her heart. She was left holding the breakfast in her hands as she held back the tears. The kitchen door slammed in front of her.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Mr. Costea mumbled to himself as he put the keys to his Lincoln back in his pocket, opened the garage, and grabbed the spare keys to the hot rod he kept stored in the garage. Mrs. Costea watched as he sped down the driveway. She ran outside to talk to him again, but he was already on the street. She could feel something different today, some tragedy lingering through the air. A great change was in the wind and she was afraid. All she could do was watch the cloud of dust, smelling burnt rubber as he peeled away.

  He turned the corner and was halted by the swarm of taxis, like giant metal bees picking up passengers, as if they were valuable pollen.

  “All these damn taxis!” he screamed to himself as he pounded on the steering wheel. He suddenly thought that if this was the last day of his life, he surely did not want to spend it sitting in traffic.

  What would I rather be doing? was the question on his mind. Besides having Charlie Daniels thrown out his office window, he thought of his wife.

  I’m such an asshole, he thought to himself as he remembered vaguely how he left her, standing there with his breakfast in her hands without so much as a kiss on the cheek. I’ll make it up to her tonight. I’ll take her to dinner, maybe get her some flowers, and even tell her how much I love her. He suddenly thought of his son whom he had not seen in a long time. He wondered where he was and what he was doing. He began to feel a sorrow for their dissonance, then suddenly the traffic began to move again. Thoughts of facing the wrath of Charlie Daniels crept back into his mind, along with anger, nervousness, and a determination to get through the day without a scratch.

  Chapter 32

  By mid afternoon, Julie arrived at the playhouse to get ready for the 5pm show. The costumes had arrived along with the makeup artists. “I’m Gina,” she said, with a Long Island accent. “Wow, you’re kinda light for this part. I’m gonna need lots of darkener on you,” she said as she immediately began applying it to her face, arms, and hands.

  When Gina finished darkening her skin and placed the long black wig on her head she spun Julie around to see herself in the mirror. “So what do you think?” Gina asked Cattman, who had entered the room.

  “Gina, you never cease to amaze me. She looks as native as they come,” he replied.

  Julie did not hear a word. She stared at herself in the mirror and her reflection reminded her of Charlie’s words about the girl he falls in love with. He’s coming tonight, she thought to herself.

  As Gina and Cattman began to look at the costumes, Jason walked in the room. “You look just as pretty as a brunette as you do with your natural color.”

  Julie said nothing.

  He was about to leave the room then he turned to her and said, “Julie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you like to go get a drink after the play? It’s never a good idea to get involved with a co-star, but I think you’re one of the most beautiful, kind, and…”

  “What about Mary?” Julie interrupted. She had seen Mary kissing him when she arrived earlier, knowing that she was still trying to win his heart.

  “Mary? I told you I’m not interested in Mary. I’m interested in you,” he said, unaware that Mary was listening again.

  “And I told you I have someone. He’ll be here tonight,” Julie blurted out, just to get Jason away from her.

  As Jason left the room, Gina began putting the final touches on Julie’s costume and had her try it on. Julie looked at herself in the mirror again. She could not believe her eyes. She hardly recognized herself. Her hair was long and black, her skin darkened, and her body was decorated like an authentic native woman from years ago.

  Once again, the conversation she had with Charlie instantly raced through her mind. She was back in that motel room she shared with him, about to walk out the door,

  “Julie wait,” he said as he calmly placing his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the touch of his hand all over again.

  “Why Charlie? This has to end sometime right? Why not now?” she remembered asking him.

  “Tell me Charlie? Do you see yourself falling in love here in this lifetime? Do you see yourself spending your life with someone? Waking up each day next to the same face and going to sleep every night with her eyes as the last thing you see? Do you?”

  “Yes,” he had whispered to Julie’s surprise. She felt the joy of that ‘yes’ all over again.

  “What does she look like?” her question echoed through her mind.

  “What does she look like Charlie?”

  “She is beautiful. The moment I meet her she is dressed in a strange, long brown dress with red stitched symbols and wears no shoes.” Julie looked at her costume, the long brown dress with red stitched symbols. She remembered he hesitated then said, “She looks like you but her hair is long and black. Her skin is darken…”

  “Darkened!” Julie whispered to herself.

  “You won’t be wearing any shoes for the play,” Gina suddenly said, bringing Julie’s awareness back in
to the room. “They sent the wrong size. You’ll look ridiculous in these.” She held up a pair of moccasins. They were way too large.

  Julie saw Mary talking to Jason outside the door. She knew what she was going through. She wasted time on boys like that herself. She felt as if Mary’s pain was her pain. She remembered Charlie’s description of the girl again; “She is creative, energetic, and never stops reflecting on her love for others.” Julie felt that mature love flow out of her for everything, Nurse Betty, her boyfriend they embarrassed on the street in front of the restaurant, the spider that woke her up in a scream, her father, her mother, the couples she saw on the street, Gina, the homeless violinist, the cats, Mr. Cattman, Bob, and even Jason tangled in his own web of lies and selfishness.

  She noticed the red stitched symbols in her brown dress again and wondered if Charlie had seen into the future. She looked at her darkened skin in the mirror and the long black wig and began to believe her own words, saying to herself “He’s coming. I don’t know how, but I know he will.”

  “The play goes on in less than fifteen minutes.” Cattman burst through the door again. The papers in his hands were rattling. He appeared lost, his hair sticking up from nearly pulling it out. “Everybody calm down! Take a deep breath,” he ordered, although he was most in need of his own advice. “Is everyone ready?” he asked as he started breathing normally again. “If you’re not, then get ready. Get ready!” he screamed with no words of encouragement. He left the room, suddenly more nervous than when he entered.

  Nearly 5:00 PM, Mr. Costea began to think of leaving for home. He passed the day in the business of work, keeping his mind off his predicted fate. However, one sudden look at the clock changed all that. It was only a few minutes before five. Others were packing up and leaving. His secretary rang and asked, “Is there anything else you need before I leave, Mr. Costea?”