Turning right on Houston Street, he slices warm air with his hand. “There isn’t anything about marriage I want.”
“You’re not ready for it, that’s why.”
“Not ready for it? I’ll never be ready for it! Ever!” I’ve kept walking, so he picks up the pace, adding a loud, “Because I don’t want it!”
Pedestrians pass us in a hurry to God knows where. Millions of people make New York City electric, and sometimes tiring. This street in particular is always hectic, it cuts the city at the two thirds mark, designating ‘lower Manhattan’ and has multiple lanes driving in both directions, East and West.
Houston is pronounced How-ston, not Hew-ston, like they do in Texans. And we don’t know why. Maybe because New York was first and then Texas took it over and put their southern accent on it? Either way, if someone asks you where Hewston Street is here, you know they’re a tourist.
Can’t wait to get away, listen to the birds, watch my naked wife make cereal for us, red hair messy from all the sex, cheeks rosy for the same reason.
Can’t. Wait.
As Barry and I cross Houston, the pedestrian-signal counts down how long we’ve got before the light changes.
10…9…8…
Barry grumbles, “The thing about Lorna is she’d be awesome if she wasn’t a fucking bitch.”
I chuckle, because it’s true, but remind him, “She needs patience, you know that. Remember what Abby put me through?”
“I’ve been patient!”
“You’ve been invasive.”
“Invasive? Me?” He points at himself as we reach the sidewalk. “I’m invasive?!”
“Insistent. Rude. Mean. You want me to go on?”
Barry side-eyeballs me, and breaks into a grin. “I think I’ve been patient.”
“You keep thinking that.”
“I will!”
“Good,” I chuckle, and steal a glance at the bar where I met Abs, though it’s changed names and owners several times over the decade since.
I’d like to tell Barry that it feels like it’s flown by, all that time, but I don’t feel like talking to the wall booze built around his psyche.
We’re here on the first block, our old place, apartments leased above a shop that’s not there anymore. Takes no time before we arrive. They painted it. Looks good. Now it’s a locksmith which is amusing because Barry is having trouble with his key.
“You going to stay here or sneak out when I leave?”
His shoulders slump a little. “Fuck you.”
I laugh, “I know you, Barry!”
“You do. I know. But fuck you anyway.”
“Stay here, Barry. Promise!”
The key gets shoved at the lock again on a mumbled, “I’m tired anyway.”
“That’s good. Get some sleep.” My eyebrows twist as he struggles. “Hey Barry?” He blinks to me. “I love you, man. You know that.”
He swats the air like he wants me to leave. The door swings open, and he disappears.
Strolling away I glance around, remembering packing up and moving in with Abs. She had her hair in a ponytail, tight jeans and a white t-shirt, directing the movers and reminding me what a luxury it was to hire them.
At Houston, I see her smiling, “You won’t be sorry, Max. They’re worth it!”
She was right.
7…6…
I dig for my phone to call her.
5…4…
Open the screen.
3…2…
Walk out onto Houston, my head down to dial.
1.
Chapter 6
Max
What are policemen doing here?
I walk up to our apartment, glancing back because I don’t remember getting here.
Entering the building.
Using my key.
Nothing.
The door swings open, and there’s Abs, smiling for a second until she realizes it wasn’t me at the door, locked out or playing games.
“Mrs. O’Connell?”
“Yes?” she frowns.
I laugh, “Abby, you’re not Mrs. O’Connell. You kept your last name in honor of your parents.”
Nobody hears me.
I feel heavy.
Frozen.
I call out, “Mom…Dad!” as they appear on either side of my wife.
My voice disappears as the policemen explain, “There’s been an accident, Ma’am. Your husband was hit by…”
His words lose their volume as I reel backward, and experience the reality of weightlessness for the first time.
“No!”
I can’t be dead.
It can’t be over.
Not this young.
Not tonight! Our anniversary. And another party ending in tragedy for Abby.
She reels backward at the same time I do, stricken, and collapses into Mom’s stunned arms. Dad’s trying to speak, but can’t. Mom reaches for him, and he grabs her hand, breaks down in tears with them.
Suddenly I’m not in the hallway anymore. I’m above our deck, hovering over triangles of twinkle lights I hung myself when we moved in and have replaced twice.
I look down.
But can’t see my body.
My legs, feet, torso, arms, hands.
Things I’ve taken for granted.
Gone.
What am I?
I’m just…here.
There’s Mom running out whispering to Lorna before she falls into the chair Lorna abandons to tell Arthur so he’ll stop playing music. Arthur passes the news to Tom and Jen. The domino effect continues as I fly higher and higher watching them grow smaller and smaller, a gathered circle of despair.
Abby…
No…
Please!
Don’t take me from her.
She can’t lose me like this.
Abs’ll never recover.
Chapter 7
Max
Darkness.
All I see is darkness.
If seeing is really the right word.
Empty is better.
Yeah.
Wait.
There’s our deck.
I’m not gone.
It’s getting closer.
Am I doing this?
What is this anyway?
Flight?
I can’t feel anything.
Must be me though.
Wait.
That’s not her grey dress, the one she chose because it matched my button-up. She’s in black.
Oh.
So is everyone.
This isn’t our anniversary.
It’s my wake.
Should be called sleep.
Fucking bullshit.
I can’t believe this.
“Abby! I’m sorry.” She’s staring off at nothing, sitting here by herself in the same place Lorna was. “Abby! Please look at me. I’m so sorry, Abs. I want to fix this.”
A tug pulls on me and I see Barry heading into the apartment. Suddenly I’m inside, watching him enter from the deck.
Lorna.
Arthur.
Jen.
Tom.
They don’t see him.
Not at first.
They’re lost in grief. Jen and Tom embracing. Lorna cleaning like Mom does. Arthur, cross-armed, leaning against our fridge, head down.
“Guys! It’s Max! I’m right here!”
Arthur looks up but not in my direction, and not because he heard me. He didn’t.
It was Barry he feels in the room. His head careens backward on his neck in shock. “What kind of balls does this take?” He pushes off the fridge. “I mean wow!”
“Hey. Arthur. He was my best friend.”
“Lot of good that did him!”
Tom steps forward with rage in his eyes.
Never seen him like this before.
Normally so passive.
Are they gonna fight?
Here?
“No, guys. Don’t do it. Abby will hate that. Think about her for a se
cond!”
Tom’s eyes narrow. “You really gonna say that now, Barry?”
Lorna tries to wedge between them, “Okay, cut it out! We're all hurting here!” but they’re not budging.
Arthur throws an accusing finger at Barry. “We wouldn't be, if this guy could hold a drink down.”
Barry shoots back, “Fuck you!”
Tom jumps in front of him as Arthur loses his shit, shouting, “Max is gone, and you can't undo it!”
Tom sneers with tears in his eyes, “He’s not worth it, Arthur.”
“Oh my God!” whispers Jennifer, pacing.
With both hands Lorna grabs our friend’s arm. “Arthur, take a walk with me.”
Jennifer gasps, “Yes! Go take a walk. Get some fresh air!”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” Barry says and the whole room felt it.
Except me.
Arthur’s anger doesn’t know where to go now. I’m sorry is a powerful antidote. He lets Lorna guide him to the front door. They pass Barry, pass me, and walk out.
Suddenly I’m next to Mom, seeing her tears where she was hiding them just outside our front door. I know why she’s here. It’s where she caught Abby and I making out. That’s what she’s thinking — how quickly the party turned from fun to the end of my life.
“Mom…”
The door swings open and Arthur and Lorna appear, and freeze at the sight of Mom. He gulps down his regret, sincerity in his, “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Connell.”
Arthur walks right through me, and I watch him leave, wondering why he couldn’t feel that.
Why I couldn’t either.
I step back to avoid Lorna passing through my ghost, and glance down to realize my legs are back. Arms. Hands. All of it.
I turn to Mom, left alone out here in the hallway missing me, her only son, her only child.
“Mom! I’m here.” I tell her, but it doesn’t seem like she can hear my voice. I hear it, but nobody else does? I try again, my heart aching with her. “I’m still here.”
She breaks down, covering her ears.
“Mom! Could you hear me say that? Can you hear me?!!”
She slides to the floor, rolled in a ball.
Sobbing.
While I stay by her side.
Unable to help her.
The worst torture I can imagine.
Suddenly I’m on the deck.
Mom is, too.
What the…?
That’s weird.
I didn’t see her get up or walk into my apartment.
I didn’t float to the deck.
I’m just…here.
Everyone’s barely talking. Mom’s sitting at the bar, eyes blank as our friends Phil and Veronica try to discuss other things that might take her mind away from this tragedy.
Dad’s standing nearby, staring off, regal but lost.
“Dad!”
He doesn’t flinch.
“Mom!”
Mom turns her head in my direction.
“Ma, did you hear what I just said?”
She gets up, and walks right through me.
I flip around, and see who she was really looking at.
Barry.
Walking up to my father.
And she escaped.
“Henry, I…”
Dad evades the inevitable apology by changing the subject. “What’d you two talk about on the way home?”
Barry’s thrown, even scared.
Good.
You fucker.
“We uh…” he sniffles, trying to remember a conversation he was too drunk to recall. “We talked about…women.” Barry looks at the wood flooring of our deck, searching his memory. “I said they were all crazy. He said…”
Dad waits for him to finish his fucking sentence, and finally asks, “What?”
Barry looks up at my father. “That’s what makes them so interesting.”
Dad’s breath hitches with pain. “I told him that.”
“You did?”
The blue eyes I inherited search the past. “Yeah, when he was…” Dad struggles, blinking a few times. “I don't remember. Fifteen? Seventeen? He was dating that blonde. What was her name?”
“Parker,” Barry offers, knowing every girl I’ve ever dated.
“That's right. Parker. Such a nut. I told him to enjoy. Just don't marry her.” Dad looks over at where Abby is sitting all by herself. “Marry one who's got some balance.”
Barry looks at my wife, too, and his voice cracks. “I haven't gone to her yet. I don't think I can.”
“You better go over to her, you bastard! Apologize to her! Dad, tell him to go to Abby!”
As he stares ahead, my father’s tone is somber, “Give it time.”
He leaves Barry standing here.
Alone with me.
Chapter 8
Abby
I don’t want to be here anymore.
In sickness and in health, til death do us part isn’t enough for me. I want forever like he promised.
I keep thinking he’ll walk through the door, call my name and say, “Get off the phone, woman! It’s me time. As in me. Your husband!”
But the only people who have walked through that door keep staying stupid things like, he’ll always be here with you.
Oh yeah?
Because I don’t see him.
Every time the phone rings, my first impulse is that it’s Max calling to check how my day is going.
I haven’t gotten a new phone yet because the spider webs remind me of his joke.
I’ve listened to his voicemail a thousand times and cried until my cheeks pruned. Didn’t know my eye sockets could hollow like this, either. I don’t recognize my face anymore.
The love has left my eyes.
It’s on Broadway and Houston.
I washed some dishes last night by hand just to stay busy and the next thing I knew I was on the floor, weeping, with broken glass around my knees. The suds had reminded me of the shower I took the night of our party.
I should have had sex with Max before the party. Told Peter to stop texting me. Texted our friends and family to come an hour later. They wouldn’t have minded!
And if they had, so what??!
I should’ve held Max and kissed his handsome face and looked into his beautiful blue eyes and traced his strong jaw and told him how much I love every single thing about him and how lucky I am that he loved me. How much he changed my life knowing what it meant to have such a good man for my husband, my partner, my friend.
A shadow to my right makes me look over, and of course my first hope is that it’s him. But it’s his dad walking up, and as much as I love Henry I don’t want to talk right now.
“How you doin' kid?” When I say nothing, Henry sighs, “Yeah, me too.”
We sit together, and I blink at the knowledge of Max being Henry and Alice’s only child. They lost him in a freak accident. I know what that’s like. Only with my parents it was the other way around.
Can’t speak at all.
I tried to open my mouth earlier and nothing came out so I’ve kept it shut since. I’ve not said one word this whole wake. People talk to me, and I listen. Like a prisoner whose only escape is joining the crime.
Henry takes a deep breath, his voice kind as he asks, “Did I ever tell you this story? When Max met you he woke me up at three o'clock in the morning.” Henry chuckles, “Three o'clock! Damn kid.” He pauses, losing himself in the memory. “You guys had met at a bar, hence the late hour, and he said he'd kept you talking all night by stealing the keys from your purse,” I turn my head a little to listen. This is the only thing anyone’s said tonight that I care to hear. “holding them in the air until you agreed to stay. But you know that part, don't you.” Henry takes a breath. “Well, he woke me up, whispering so his mother didn't hear. I think he was afraid she'd put the story into one of her novels.” I half-laugh through my haze, because I know that’s exactly why Max would’ve whispered. “‘Dad,' he said, 'I met her.
I found the girl.' I tried to shut him up so I could get back to sleep, but he said, 'No, Dad! This is important. She's my wife, Dad. I met my wife.’” I’m rapt, hanging on every word as Henry pauses, both of us staring forward. “I told him, 'I thought you said all girls were crazy.' You know what he said? 'Well, I'm gonna make this one crazy about me.’” My eyes close, tears spilling as Henry’s voice gets hoarse. “I know that you know this, Abby girl, but the love you feel right now, and the loss, my boy feels it, too. I know he's watching us, and he feels it just as badly as we do. This was a mistake.” Henry pauses, fighting saying aloud what he believes. He sighs, “God made a mistake.”
My wonderful father-in-law stands up to go, too dignified to be caught in public crying. As he walks away, I imagine Max watching us, hearing his story told, and my eyelashes rise. I look past our twinkle lights to the stars obscured above.
If he’s here, he’s one of them.
Chapter 9
Max
Lorna took her hair out of that stranglehold, and her shoes are off. Is she going to spend the night? That’d be a first.
“She needs time. A lot of it.”
Mom’s eyes are bloodshot as she stands by our front door in her jacket, asking Lorna, “Are you going to stay with her?”
“That’s what I was wondering, Ma.”
Nobody hears me.
This is becoming a thing.
I’m witnessing random moments, and suddenly I’m somewhere else. I think I’m drawn to the people I love. Only sense I can make out of this.
Lorna answers my mom, “Yeah. As long as she'll let me. She took care of me when our parents died.”
Dad sighs, because everyone was thinking about that, and it’s impact on Abs. Especially me.
“Call us if you need us to come back,” Dad offers, “We can stay in the guest room.”
She points at him, “You'd have to kick me out then. Ain't gonna happen.” The smile vanishes into concern. “Do you guys need anything?”
I look at Mom as she says, voice cracking, “Just one thing.”
“Ma, I’m right here!”
Lorna rushes to hug her.
At least someone can.
I hate this!
She hugs Dad, too.
Just One More Kiss: Based on the Motion Picture Page 3
