I sat on the roof as the sun set. Late August humidity has a way of settling over New York City as if it has homicidal intentions. It's suffocating, a wet blanket thrown over everything from Harlem to the Financial District. And the worst part is it makes my hair turn into a ball of frizz. The sounds of the saxophonist down the street drifted up on the thick air. Two men stood under an overhang passing a joint back and forth. The air was damp, heavy with unspoken promises of rain. I lean over the railing of the roof, carelessly enough to provoke a,
"Suicide is bad Suze," from my roommate, Anna. I smiled, but the smile didn't reach my eyes. I got up and brushed myself off. The dirt here is different than the dirt in California. It's funny, that was the first thing I noticed when I moved Palo Alto. The dirt in New York is strange, it's the kind you can either hate or live of off. The kind made up of grime, tears, ash, cigarette butts, lipstick smears, electrical dust, and McDonald's dollar menu bags. Anna watches me closely as I walk towards the door back to our dorm. Her eyes narrow slightly as I walk toward her and she cocks her head at me. She takes a last drag on her cigarette before crushing it under her foot. She nods her head at me,
"Who's Jesse?" She asks as I reach for the doorknob. I freeze. I try to say something but it comes out as more of a croak than a word. I clear my throat.
"Ho-how do you know about Jesse?" I ask, my hand clenching the doorknob.
"You talk in your sleep. Usually you just mumble his name, but last night you woke yourself up yelling." she says. I turn around slowly.
"You..."I start.
"Yeah, I was awake." she says, sitting down on one of the milk cartons we stole to use as furniture. "So. Spill. Who is he?" When I don't say anything she sighs and gestures toward another milk carton with a freshly lite cigarette. "Sit." I sit.
"You smoke too much." I say. She shrugs.
"We weren't talking about me." she says.
"Jesse was just a guy I knew." I say miserably. "Just a guy I knew."
"Uh huh." Anna said steadily. "And Hitler was just another law abiding citizen."
"Don't compare him to Hitler." I mumble trying to come up with a lie.
"Sorry." she says swinging her foot toward a coke can and stopping just before she kicks it. She looked at me for a minute. "Who is he really?"
"Why is this important?" I mumble. She rolls her eyes.
"Because I've lived with you for a year now, you haven't gone out with anyone, and now you wake up yelling some guys name, terrified half to death. Something's wrong."
"Nothings wrong." I say, avoiding looking her in the eyes. Instead I watch the pigeons. They seem to be in the middle of some strange kind of mass suicide that involves doing what could pass as a back-flip off the edge of the roof. I make a mental note to ask Danny, the homeless guy on the corner, if he started feeding them pot instead of bread crumbs again. I can feel Anna glaring at me. I sort of wish I was a pigeon.
"Come on Suze. Don't give me that crap." she says, the untouched cigarette burning in her hand.
"Your gonna burn yourself." I point out. She drops it and crushes it under her foot again, only to light another one. She looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. I take a deep breath.
"He was just a guy. Back in California....we were...in love and I screwed it up. The next day he was gone. I couldn't find him anywhere." I said quietly.
"What happened?" Anna said. I look at her, and for a second I seriously consider telling her the truth.
"He was in a car accident." I lie. Anna doesn't say anything for awhile. The last pigeon falls. Entertainment over, I see my chance to escape. I get up and walk towards the door.
"Are you ever going to tell me what really happened?" She asks. I laugh, but it sounds hallow even to my own ears.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I pull open the door and shut it quickly behind me.
"Suicide is bad Suze," from my roommate, Anna. I smiled, but the smile didn't reach my eyes. I got up and brushed myself off. The dirt here is different than the dirt in California. It's funny, that was the first thing I noticed when I moved Palo Alto. The dirt in New York is strange, it's the kind you can either hate or live of off. The kind made up of grime, tears, ash, cigarette butts, lipstick smears, electrical dust, and McDonald's dollar menu bags. Anna watches me closely as I walk towards the door back to our dorm. Her eyes narrow slightly as I walk toward her and she cocks her head at me. She takes a last drag on her cigarette before crushing it under her foot. She nods her head at me,
"Who's Jesse?" She asks as I reach for the doorknob. I freeze. I try to say something but it comes out as more of a croak than a word. I clear my throat.
"Ho-how do you know about Jesse?" I ask, my hand clenching the doorknob.
"You talk in your sleep. Usually you just mumble his name, but last night you woke yourself up yelling." she says. I turn around slowly.
"You..."I start.
"Yeah, I was awake." she says, sitting down on one of the milk cartons we stole to use as furniture. "So. Spill. Who is he?" When I don't say anything she sighs and gestures toward another milk carton with a freshly lite cigarette. "Sit." I sit.
"You smoke too much." I say. She shrugs.
"We weren't talking about me." she says.
"Jesse was just a guy I knew." I say miserably. "Just a guy I knew."
"Uh huh." Anna said steadily. "And Hitler was just another law abiding citizen."
"Don't compare him to Hitler." I mumble trying to come up with a lie.
"Sorry." she says swinging her foot toward a coke can and stopping just before she kicks it. She looked at me for a minute. "Who is he really?"
"Why is this important?" I mumble. She rolls her eyes.
"Because I've lived with you for a year now, you haven't gone out with anyone, and now you wake up yelling some guys name, terrified half to death. Something's wrong."
"Nothings wrong." I say, avoiding looking her in the eyes. Instead I watch the pigeons. They seem to be in the middle of some strange kind of mass suicide that involves doing what could pass as a back-flip off the edge of the roof. I make a mental note to ask Danny, the homeless guy on the corner, if he started feeding them pot instead of bread crumbs again. I can feel Anna glaring at me. I sort of wish I was a pigeon.
"Come on Suze. Don't give me that crap." she says, the untouched cigarette burning in her hand.
"Your gonna burn yourself." I point out. She drops it and crushes it under her foot again, only to light another one. She looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. I take a deep breath.
"He was just a guy. Back in California....we were...in love and I screwed it up. The next day he was gone. I couldn't find him anywhere." I said quietly.
"What happened?" Anna said. I look at her, and for a second I seriously consider telling her the truth.
"He was in a car accident." I lie. Anna doesn't say anything for awhile. The last pigeon falls. Entertainment over, I see my chance to escape. I get up and walk towards the door.
"Are you ever going to tell me what really happened?" She asks. I laugh, but it sounds hallow even to my own ears.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I pull open the door and shut it quickly behind me.