Chapter 61
Will
My memory of the city was different. I used to feel comfortable walking New York’s streets, almost as if I were at home here, but now I’m an intruder, someone just passing through.
The noise almost stuns me, and I have to wait a moment on the corner before turning and stopping in front of a red light.
It turns green, I walk on, everyone else walks on beside me.
The door to the building is the same as always.
The entryway too. Even the doorman is the same.
It’s strange to come back to a place that hasn’t changed when you have.
The red carpet on the floor swallows my steps as I walk in.
I tell the man the apartment number I’m going to and he nods and calls the elevator for me.
I step inside the small metallic box. When the doors open, I walk to the last name on my list: Lena Sawn.
I ring the doorbell of what used to be my home. I remember myself sticking the key in the lock there. It feels like an eternity ago.
Lena opens the door.
Her hair hasn’t changed: brown, long, reaching to the middle of her back. She has her glasses on. She never wears them out; she prefers contacts. She’s little, and that makes her belly look that much bigger.
“Jeez…” I say. “You look great.”
“Sure. Come on in.” She sighs.
The apartment, unlike the building, has changed.
Some of the furniture’s gone; I guess Lena took it to her new apartment.
But there are still details that remind me of our time together.
The painting in the hall that we bought at an art gallery in Brooklyn.
The garnet rug in the living room that I picked.
The new fixtures we bought, now to be enjoyed by other people.
It’s funny, the trail we human beings leave behind us.
It’s like walking in the snow; you can always see your footsteps somewhere.
“Your things are over there.” She points to the back of a room where she’s been storing random stuff, including everything that was mine.
“Thanks for holding on to all of it, Lena.”
“Yeah. I…” She rubs her arms. “I wasn’t sure.”
I turn to her. I can feel her discomfort, and for a moment, it immobilizes me.
But then I remember what happened, and I imagine what she must have had to go through.
I see her talking with her parents and explaining the situation to them.
They’re unforgiving people, and it can’t have been easy.
I see her canceling the reservation at the church, the flower order, the banquet, sending back her dress, all of it.
I see her trying to explain things I never had to explain because in my mind, New York and everything I left there had just ceased to exist. I buried it all. I buried her.
“Lena…” My voice is hoarse.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just…go through your stuff. Please. My parents want to rent the apartment out next month, so…”
“Sure.”
She nods and walks off down the hall.
I go through my things, but I’m just killing time.
I’m certain most of it can go. There’s a folder with reports and case notes.
I glance through them. I don’t know where life will take me, but I still like law, and now that I’m putting things in order, I should hold on to the few things from that version of the past that still have values.
Ten minutes later, I return to the living room without bothering to go through most of what’s there.
Lena’s there, sitting in a modern-looking chair, staring at the mock fireplace. Her entire body appears tense. I walk around in front of her. She flinches when she sees me. “You’re done?” she asks.
“Yeah. You can toss it all. Or donate it. Whatever.”
“Everything?” She stands. “There’re clothes there. There are things that are worth money…”
“Honestly, I just came here to tell you how sorry I am.”
She blinks several times, unbelieving, then rests her hands on her lower back the way pregnant women often do.
I keep thinking how this could have been my future if everything had gone according to plan.
It’s strange to be there in front of her with the feeling that I’ve lived several different lives.
Maybe we all have, probably everyone has hundreds of those moments, things that could have been but never were.
“You caught a plane to New York just to tell me that?”
“I guess?” I shake my head. “Look, I was an idiot. You’re amazing, and I… Let’s just say I wasn’t good enough.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
We look at each other a few seconds as her eyes cloud with tears. I can see she’s struggling in vain not to cry. I come closer.
She backs away. She’s taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. “I really loved you,” she whispers. “It was so hard…”
“I’m sorry, Lena, I swear. If I could go back…” I don’t tell her that one way or another, it wasn’t going to work between us. But I think she understands that. I would change everything else, though. What I did. Every single selfish act.
She shrugs and wipes her tears away.
“I guess I should tell myself that if I’d stayed with you, I’d never have met the man who’s going to be my daughter’s father.
He was the guy I got into a heated argument when I had to cancel the reservation for the country house where we were going to hold the wedding. One thing led to another, and…”
“Wow.” I smile.
“Wow is right. My father hates him.”
“That can only mean you’ve found the one.”
She grins. “You always had a gift for getting out of commitments.”
“Honestly, I’m trying to be a straight shooter for once.”
“Well, that’s a step.”
We don’t have much more to say. Lena walks me to the hall and we look at each other in silence, knowing this is probably the last time we’ll ever do so.
“Take care,” I whisper.
“You too, Will.”
The click of the lock echoes off the walls, marking the definitive end of our time together and of my life in New York.
As the elevator descends seventeen floors to the ground, I feel lighter, and when I go outside, though the skyscrapers tower above me, I feel like I’m floating on top of the world.
Greta was right.
To keep moving ahead, you have to close the doors you’ve left open behind you. Otherwise, you might let the cold air of the past in.
As I walk on, I feel lighter and lighter. My dark emotions are diluted like watercolors. The future is mysterious and hard to see but full of possibilities.
Same as every year, the city is covered in Christmas ornaments already.
The shop windows compete to draw the attention of those walking past, the cloudy sky announces rain, or maybe snow if the temperature drops at nightfall.
I’m freezing, but it doesn’t bother me—there’s something bracing in the wind biting into my skin.
It’s the end of November, and for the first time in ages, I know exactly where I’m going.