Warning: William Lewis Mention
Prompt #34: Central Park
A Day in Central Park: Like races of leaves, so are the races of men
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
Outside, a relentless, troubled life. Here, on the inside, it's relentless but, yet, still.
It's a myriad of mechanisms working without a sound.
Outside, my mind is chaos, driven by shouts, horns, creaks, and a constant rumbling, much like a distant storm. Here, it's altogether peaceful — all sounds reduce to a light buzz and, if someone or something doesn't fit the harmony, it's only for a second and it tells about simple stories, distant and forgotten acts of kindness, of love, of magic.
There, it is scary and uncomfortable, here there's certainty, solid steps, and coziness.
More so, in the first days of autumn, when the mist is just palpable and the sun seeps just a little with its timid rays, but also when an untamed wind sweeps without ceasing and the leaves, in a kaleidoscope of colors, spiral towards an unknown place. Everyone, including my late mother, would think that a windy day in autumn is the epitome of decay and chaos. Not for me. It was and it is even nowadays soothing to let my soul wander while my mind is so occupied with trying to understand the movement of nature. So, this place is a cuddle for me and calls for me, even after the darker shade that Lewis cast.
Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, just like I would if there was a bee too near to my face, I resume my unexpected morning walk since Amanda asked for a meeting in only fifteen minutes. I guess it's something related to the next chapter of her life and, while I long for her return in my squad, I know it's only a minimal possibility and that she has to think about her happiness, her children, her world. Even if the outcome won't be what I'd like, this morning is surely more appealing than my usual one or, even, the one that I thought I would live — three hours at the squad and then a meeting with the new boss, granted that we didn't catch a new case. I'd like to stop her movements just like a child who catches, finally, a leaf — he knows that it is destined to fall and yet he tries his best to prevent it. When Amanda first came into my life, I was the one who was falling. Actually, I had already fallen, and, maybe without my conscience, I had already crashed. But then… then I prevented her from falling a lot of times and, when I couldn't, we danced together until we reached the pavement. Now, I dread the fact that we are again falling, only without the luxury of having someone. Well, me at least.
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
I enter the park with a strange sense of anticipation; true, only I know that Olivia will not in fifteen minutes encounter Amanda, but me. Even knowing that, I somehow can't place the buzz that is within me. I try and drive it away putting more effort into my strolls but it's useless. When I was abroad, I visited parks whenever I could, even if I was on a mission; it reminded me of home, of her. It gave me a sense of peace knowing that the easy stroll of an old lady with her groceries, the laughter of a young lady chased by a friend, and the jogging of a couple could be seen also by Olivia, knowing that, even if miles apart, we somehow shared an unbreakable link. So, when I returned from chasing my brother's ghost, I thought that it was a good idea to meet her in a place that I perceived as neutral and yet owned by her presence. Now, after calling Amanda and asking her support, after sensing her voice falter at my demand, I wonder if it's the right move. The buzz in me peaks — it's as if I'm running and I can feel the heartbeat in my head. So, I follow my exercise routine — I stop, close my eyes, and inspire. I'm hit by the strong fried smell, probably courtesy of some street bagel seller, and by the high-pitched sound of an ambulance. They do nothing for my lingering anxiety; if anything, they make it worse. So I focus myself and go beyond the obvious — can I perceive something different? Just a trace of wet grass, the distant echo of two siblings who are bickering over a ball, a perfume well known. I open my eyes, being sure that Olivia is in front of me but there's only a forty-something lady with an uptight look. Now that I think about it, probably, this isn't the scent Olivia uses nowadays. I'm ready to continue my stroll and arrive on time at the bar chosen by Amanda when a leaf decides to mock me and dances on my bald head. Seamus and Kieran would have said that it's the will of nature to give me a hat (they seem to be unable to understand why I'm without hair). Once upon a time, after a very embarrassing slip, someone had fun calling me Leaf Man. I didn't speak to her for maybe a day. Then, I saw a photograph taken treacherously and I had to concur. I collect the leaf and I put it in my pocket, without a real reason. Maybe, I am a Leaf Man.
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
Amanda is late — I'm not judging or criticizing her. Actually, I even predict it — with Nicky and Frannie, the girls to drop at school… well, a little late is what to be expected. For this particular reason, I'm grateful to have brought a book, even if my shoulder is complaining. Not too far from the spot of our appointment, there's a bench. Not my usual one, but, only for this instance, it will do. Actually, I'm grateful to Amanda for choosing a spot to which no good or bad memories are attached. In this way, if the news is horrible and life-changing, I will be able to never pass along this path again and I won't be sorry for it; instead, I will frequent the places that can give me peace — the chess angle, where I used to run when nothing worked with my very drunken mother, the fountain, where, for the first time, I understood what I wanted with life, the bridge, where I received my first real "I love you"… If the news isn't too dreadful, maybe I will return on this particular bench because it has most of the features that I search. Anyway… back to the book. It has been a while since I've been able to read a long book with so much joy. Maybe, the circumstances weren't too favourable. At this moment, though, I have all I need.
It has been maybe twenty minutes when a coincidence of a leaf falling in the middle of my page and a call bring me back to reality. I choose to ignore the call because I know my director of the trust fund isn't happy about my expensive shopping for the imminent Noah's exhibition, but, nonetheless, I shoot a message to Amanda while I entrain myself with the leaf stem — it seems so alive, so green that it's a shame it's already falling. It has become my new bookmark. I really don't know why.
~oOo~
-Amanda's pov-
I'm sitting at my old desk in the SVU bullpen, chatting mindlessly with Fin, when my phone vibrates. A message from Olivia. Nothing angry or with a hint of apology for stood me up but the "Are you late? Give me an ETA," continues to fluctuate on my screen.
Fin, who has sensed my hesitation, says, "Problems?"
Switching sides with Nicky, I collect the phone from the desk and let him read. "Only with Stabler."
"Do you want me to say it was a bad idea from the start? That we should never, under any circumstance, meddle between those two? A told you so?"
"I'd like a little help, that's all."
"Call Stabler and say to him that we can still kick his sorry ass."
Calling Stabler always seems a bad idea — what if he is in the middle of a stunt, which came without notice? What if, simply, there's traffic and he is already anxious? No, a call is definitely a mistake.
I decided to stick with a simple message. "Olivia is waiting for you. I hope you stayed true to your intention of actually talking with the girl."
"You chickened out," is Fin's comment when I put down the phone.
"I didn't."
"You did. You helped him set Olivia up and, now, remorse and all, you are too coward to scold him, even if he is doing the wrong thing, again."
"You don't know if he is going to arrive."
"All I know is that he continues to run."
"But the compass and the phone calls…"
"Yeah."
A beat. "Fin, what do you mean with that comment?"
"What I mean is, Elliot is a great guy and all, even selfless on most occasions and towards a lot of people… that isn't true when it comes to Olivia. So, yeah, the compass and everything can mean a lot or nothing at all."
"Don't you think they are in love with each other?"
"Since you become a professor, you seriously watch too many soap operas."
"It's not that."
"Well, in that case, Carisi spoils you way too much."
"Probably true but you can't lie to me. I was here only in the aftermath of Elliot, either a ghost or a casual work partner, but you were here since day one; haven't you ever thought of them as a couple?"
"It doesn't matter what I think, or what I thought. I only know that he isn't showing. And if we say something to Olivia, she will be hurt."
"Damn it!" Having put Nicky in his basket, I now bombard Stabler with messages, hoping to God he has some dignity. Finally, having ignored Olivia's message too long, I reply, "I'm sorry but I'm coming." Will it be enough?
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
My side pocket is really angry if I have to guess from the number of vibrations that it irradiates. Most probably, the guilty one is Jet, fomented by Bell, because I promised them I would return operative this week. I didn't. Instead, I'm here, glued to the pavement, watching Olivia from not too far — she's reading, seemingly without a care in the world. And, not surprisingly at all, she's stunning. For that single reason, I'm stunned, incapable of moving my limbs or articulating a single word. In Russia, when I was visiting the Ermitage, someone told me about Stendhal's syndrome but, at the time, I didn't understand it, didn't feel it, not for a bunch of obviously beautiful paintings and sculptures. Now, while I'm watching this creature with all her beauty and flaws, while I'm having difficulties in separating her from this beautiful autumn day, I feel it. Maybe, I'm not allowed to disturb her. Maybe, the only action I can do is watch her. Scratch that — seeing her. For the first time ever. Outside the court after Kathy's trial, she said that she wasn't anymore the same Olivia. I didn't give her credit at the time. She said that things happened, things that I didn't know about. In this light, in this particular moment, her words become real — she isn't my Olivia anymore. I have always thought that we are somewhat permanent, but, as often, she was right — we aren't. We change, just like the leaf in my pocket. I don't know about my change, but hers? Hers was a divine transformation.
When the phone makes me wince, I retrieve it from my pocket and find that the angry sender is Amanda. Her messages amount to sixteen, the last one the angriest of all, saying, "LIV IS WAITING. BE A MAN."
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
Well, Amanda says she's coming but I still don't know how long it will be, so, trying to beat the probable phone call I will receive, I decided to have a go at the cafe nearby and warm up with a hot green tea. I close my book carefully, in order to give a little more time to the leaves, and I put it away in the purse. Walking and checking emails seem a good idea because my destination is so close but the universe has other plans. I collide with someone and the phone slips, gliding a few meters away. I really don't want to know what happened, no one is hurt, but my phone could easily have gotten the worst of it so I rapidly babble an apology with the intent of recovering the phone when a glimpse of the other person's eyes locks me on the spot. Elliot is the one I bumped into. I'm bewildered. My mind says I shouldn't because he has returned to my life a solid three years and a half ago and he lives in this city so it's perfectly normal for us to write, see, and bump into each other. It's normal. He is a person on which I can rely. Except I can't. Not really, says my mind again. I can't because he doesn't know half of what happened here –and he was the one who knew the story of every single spot here-, I can't because he is always swirling and maybe the one who is in need of a compass is him, I can't because he came here and made my peaceful morning chaotic. So I'm stunned and for a good ninety seconds, I can't articulate a single sound.
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
I miscalculated and what should have been a casual encounter became a collision that threw off balance the both of us — her mind is racing as her eyes let it show, my mind –the one who should be able to smooth this one out because I wanted it- seems to notice every single detail of her but not the whole.
Her hair is slightly shorter and with a nuance of gold in it. Her shoes are not really the Captain's one. Her purse is larger than I ever remember. Her makeup is light, barely there. Her perfume, maybe a whim of a moment, not entirely hers. So we stay there, interlocked with one another, like tree roots, for a good ninety seconds. At last, a middle-aged and distinct man clears his throat and in the most British accent of all says, "I really have to pass."
The magic is broken and we unlock ourselves, embarrassed. When the man is gone, she speaks first.
"Elliot, I didn't know you were back in town. When did you return?"
It sounds almost a cliché, she is always checking on me, usually after one of my long periods of no-show. Nevertheless, I circumstantiate my appearance.
"I came back a little short of a week ago. I haven't found Joe Jr. but a guy can try only for so long." A small chuckle. And then, an excuse to be done with me. "I'm here actually to meet Amanda. She should be here any minute..."
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
Small talk again. I actually couldn't care less about Amanda at this precise moment and yet… yet she seems like a good excuse. That or the job. But Elliot knows me as well he knows it's never the job in these situations. I decided to give him a little opportunity.
"I was going for a tea or a coffee while I was waiting for her. Do you want to join?"
"Sure." And he scratches his head, a tell of his lies.
"I'm holding you back from something, aren't I?"
He is lit with surprise. "What?"
"You agreed to have breakfast with me but you are scratching yourself… don't forget I know you, Elliot. You are lying. If you need to be somewhere else, it's ok."
A sigh. "Yeah. I mean, no. Why don't we order that drink, and then I explain?"
"Do I need to sit down?"
"God, I hope not."
We proceed to order, me a green tea and him an espresso, and when the beverages are in our hands, he speaks.
"I'm not due anywhere but I was, indeed, lying. Amanda isn't coming. She wasn't ever coming. When I came back, I asked her to set up a meeting for us because it seemed that we weren't able to live in the city together anymore. I thought that Amanda could be a good ally for my cause. So, yes, I was lying but I hope you aren't too much infuriated."
He is looking at his already empty cup for the entirety of the short monologue as if he is ashamed. Scratch that, as if he feels unworthy of this stolen moment between us. Or maybe, for the first time in so long, he is giving me space to actually consider where I stand in this thing there's between us — am I infuriated? No. Am I angry? Probably a little. Am I stunned and feeling a little betrayed? Almost certainly. But, all in all, I can't blame Amanda, or Fin, for trying to get us closer since they stated time and time again that we should get out of our system, one way or another. All in all, maybe we must become a little swirling and chaotic before arriving, at last, in the place we are supposed to be.
All in all, this autumnal morning is the perfect moment to start anew so I leap and say, "I will expose my displeasure to Amanda in another moment, maybe by deciding not to babysit anymore when she and Carisi need a night off, but now, now I'd like to spend some time with you." The smug bastard smiles sideways.
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
I conquered a poor point in this game but I feel like a champion. Now or never, they say. So, I'm about to speak when she says, "Amanda though promised me a walk. Do you think you can give me the same gift?"
Doesn't she know that I'd give her the world in its entirety if I could? "It seems only fair." We put our cups in the trash and started walking.
"So, does your mother know that Joe Jr. isn't about to come back?"
"Mama… she always seems to know what is happening, even if half the time she doesn't remember my name."
"I began to think that it's a sixth sense that we mothers share."
"Noah is giving you a hard time?"
"No, not fully at least"
"Again with his father?"
"No… now he wants to know more about me. How do you tell your kid the horror we see day in, day out?"
"Are you really asking my opinion?"
"You are the expert, last time I checked"
"You say some of it, you shelter them from the ugliest and scariest ones. One time, Maureen was with me in the car when we stumbled upon a guy who was torched. For days, she couldn't sleep. I blame myself even nowadays."
"I remember. So, what changed? How did she return to sleep?"
"I needed to tell her the truth, the all truth. And I had to check in when I returned from a shift."
"Boy, it's hard."
"Yep. Not something they say from the beginning."
I sense a shift in a conversation which seemed plain enough to this point. I decided to try and be here for her. "What's wrong?"
She stops and looks around.
"Noah was delicate when he was little so we had our dose of lung infections and medical scares, but it was here that, for the first time, I thought something really awful could happen to my little boy. He was playing in the sand when another boy, a little older, pulled a gun on me. I put my body between the boy and Noah and I was sure that, no matter what would happen, I would happily sacrifice my health for his. I sheltered him from the nastiest thing. Now, I want nothing more than to be able to do just that and yet I know I can't. I fear that, if I open a door to my past, he won't be able to overcome it and even all of the checks in the world won't be sufficient."
It's a curve ball, Liv. Really. And, maybe, if we weren't already glued to this place, maybe I'd need to stop and focus. What can be so awful that you don't go straight to it? What can be worse than seeing your own mother beaten to a pulp for a twelve-year-old? There's really something darker? I reach for my pockets and crunch the leaf which has seemed so glorious not even an hour ago.
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
It's the breaking point — much like the leaves of the birds, there's a moment in which we know that something is about to become stronger, or stubborner in this case, or is going to break. Now that I hinted at something awful, it's Elliot's breaking point. He is distressed for a second but, for my sake, he recovers quickly.
"In that case, you wait. But, when you feel really ready, you go for it, letting Noah know that that's the past."
"Ever happened to you?" Now, he is picking at his nose. Something troublesome is hitting him. And the circle becomes full.
"Jenna."
Obviously, Jenna. Obviously, a moment in his past when he became a monster, even against his best judgment.
I'm brought back to the here and now when he asks, "Is it about Sealview?"
He knows something happened in its ravines but he really doesn't know. More importantly, he doesn't know about Lewis. Or, at least, I hope he doesn't.
"Not my best moment, but neither the worst," I settle. It's not necessary that he knows, not today anyway. But he presses on, because he is, deep down, my Elliot, the Elliot who changed so many nuances of color but remained always the same protector, the same gentle soul who I encountered a quarter of a century ago.
"Did it happen on the job?"
"Yes and no. Actually," I start and be damned the consequences "It started right here, in this park."
He's skeptical. I can understand. But I took this path and I have, for once in our relationship, been selfish enough to tell him a glimpse of it.
"He was a perp. A very ugly one. He fixated on me and…" My voice falters and I ask the vibrant green and the deep red that surround us to give me strength.
"And?" he urges me.
"And it wasn't pleasant. He wanted to talk about you. He thought that he knew you but he didn't. In those moments, I tried to remember you and the only three things I could really picture about you were your worn-out NYPD t-shirt, this precise scarf, that, by the way, is mine, and your doodles."
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
It wasn't pleasant must be the understatement of the century. She saw things during our partnership and I suspect in the ten-plus years between Jenna and now that can lead to throwing up a lot of people. But not Olivia, not my Olivia who was, back in the day, stronger than I ever was. So if this perp was "unpleasant", he must have been from hell itself.
I faltered her one time because I wasn't here at the time, I won't falter her again so I asked, "Do you want to talk about it? Go into details? I have all day."
She smiles sadly and she denies it. I fill the void and the silence, trying with all of my being to push back her PTSD monsters. Speaking of which…
"He was the reason for which you scolded me when I came to your apartment in the middle of the night? He was the reason you recognized my PTSD?"
"I don't want to give him this power over me, but, partly yes."
"Do you need someone who was there at the time?" I'm asking, almost hyperventilating.
She scoffs. "No… I'd like to not speak of him anymore. I don't want to taint this special day. Why don't we do something crazy?"
"Crazy, Liv? Do I need to remember our ages?"
"Okay, okay, Grandpa… I'm going anyway for the extra mile. Are you coming?"
It's a self-defence technique and I understand the need but I'm really bothered by how she has gone almost blank. Before I give her a hand and pull her out of the rabbit hole in which she is probably already spiraling, I need to ask three more things.
"Liv, Liv… please, listen to me." She actually pouts. "One — can I ask to talk again about this issue, when you are ready?" She nods. "Two — is he dead?" Another nod, one of which I'm happy and yet not too happy about but still. "Three — this scarf is mine, I'm positive." At this, she laughs, a round and cheeky laughter.
"Mister, that isn't your scarf. I had it on our first year of partnership and, then, one day you coughed all day so I lent it. You returned it two weeks later but Maureen or Kathleen had gone to a party with it and it reeked of vodka and something else so I asked you to dry clean it. After that, you never returned it. You had it around you at Kathy's funeral and at the time I didn't bother you but it's definitely mine."
"I don't trust you on the matter."
"It's really nonsense, El."
"Nah… this mystery must be solved… and now, I will consult an expert on the matter." Scenographically, I call Kathleen. Two rings and she is on the line. After some generic greetings, I ask, putting her on the speaker. "Leen, I'm with Olivia right now and we have to resolve a mystery. Do you remember the red/burgundy scarf that you usually steal from me?"
"Yeah. It has the most marvellous fabric."
"Liv is saying that the scarf is hers. Help me discredit her."
A long silence from my daughter says it all. I almost laugh at my own foolishness.
"Dad, sorry for you but Olivia is right. The scarf is hers."
"Yeah. I suspected so. Thank you, Leen. See you soon."
And with that, I disconnect the call, more interested in doing something simple, and yet, I hope comforting. I take off the scarf, only to place it around her neck moments later. She sighs happily. But then, she adds, "You don't have to do it. I owe a lot of scarfs these days,"
"I know I don't have to but I want it."
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
It's incredible how a single item can be so soothing — his perfume comes to my nostrils and, in a beat, our conversation is a fading memory. I'm feeling so protected in this moment, so right in this world that I could almost cry. We walk again, this time with a little more verve because I want to remove both of us from the evil spell of Lewis and I want to show him a view of Central Park, New York that I always associated with him. We are finally on the Gapstow Bridge and I can explain myself.
"You know how I always said to you that in this park I encounter my past and my present, the people I love most in the world?"
"Yeah, that strange theory of yours… God, when you said it to me, I thought Munch has finally broken you."
"What can I say? At the time, I was a dreamer… now, I long for a lot of those people. Anyway… this is you."
A strange look appears on my partner's face, followed suit by a, "What?"
"This bridge is you — strong, solid, and unyielding at the passage of storms and time and yet so more complicated if someone has the courage to look in the lake or, in your case, in your eyes. So, Elliot Stabler, I present you your double, the Gapstow Bridge."
"And now, I really know you are senile."
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not." My face makes him think again. "Okay, maybe a little."
"You know… for a little time, you were downgraded and someone took your spot on this bridge."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"And what gave me the prominence again?"
"Well, for starters, he's dead. But it's not the real motive. He said something one time, so I was compelled to link him to the Bethesda Fountain." He's intrigued, I notice. "He had eyes very similar to yours so water, naturally, but the change of Central Park during autumn or spring was his favorite thing in the world because he said that it helped him to give a real value to every single day, with its flaws and changes. He said that I reminded him too of the value of every single day."
"He was somewhat of a poet, Liv."
"He had his ways."
"I'm feeling at a little disadvantage here. Can I know the mysterious man?"
"You don't want to."
"I'm pretty sure I do."
I raise my arms to the sky only a little and in a whisper I add, "Ed Tucker."
Surprise depicts on El's face. Then he goes white. "Ed Tucker as in the captain of the rat squad?"
"The one and only."
"And for what reason did you ever spend time with him, walking along Central Park?"
I see his brain's gears turning and turning until his eyes go wide and assume a darker blue. "Ed Tucker was the serious man with whom you considered marriage and about whom Fin told me about? Ed Tucker? Really?"
"Really."
~oOo~
-Elliot's pov-
Despite the fact that it was Tucker, I'm feeling something, gratefulness?, for the one who stayed at her side.
"I'm sorry. I was an idiot. It isn't my place to judge your past. I hope he was good to you."
"Elliot… it's okay if you are upset. I'm shaking your core and you are trying to survive just like a leaf in a storm. I know the feeling. But I appreciate you trying to restrain yourself."
"No… I mean… yes.. oh, for God's sake… can we change the subject?"
"I think it's best I don't choose it… my revelations are enough."
"And yet… they aren't. Do you know that Dickinson's poem?"
"If you were coming in the Fall,
I'd brush the Summer by
With half a smile, and half a spurn,
As Housewives do, a Fly."
"It's so strange having someone, having you knowing poetry, knowing my favorite authors…"
"Being in Italy has its perks."
"Another gallantry you have learned from some very macho Italian guy?"
"No. I was in Parco del Valentino in Turin one day and there was this girl who was reading Dickinson's poems to her fiancé with dreamy eyes and voice. I thought that those words were something to live by. And I think that more so now, when I'm here, with you, in the park the world envies us for."
~oOo~
-Olivia's pov-
I feel my cheeks heat up and I search for a diversion.
"I'm quite tired. Do you mind if we sit down for a bit?"
"Not a problem."
We spend the next ten minutes in an amiable silence but my mind is restless and I don't want to overthink every single word of his. So I suggest the diversion I need.
"Did you ever try to guess strangers' life by their walking, or their attire, or simply by their chosen path?"
"Only when I'm with Seamus and Kieran."
"It's funny."
"For five-year-olds."
"Ah ah. For adults, too."
"Okay, okay… give me an example."
I look around intently and, finally, I see a girl whose story I know but it's funny having an advantage.
"Do you see that girl?"
"The one with chocolate hair, tight in a ponytail, and the green-ish jogging suit?"
"That one. I think she didn't use to run, but then something changed and nowadays she is devoted to running a, say, 3 miles every day. It makes her think of someone."
"What detective skills have you grown since we were partners?"
"Don't you see? The suit is slightly discolored and she's running almost with her eyes closed… she knows the path and she can't be bothered from the outside."
"I'm not convinced. What about that guy?"
The guy in question is a once-upon-a-time chess player, now homeless, who is waiting on a girl who stood him up fifty years ago, more or less. "He's waiting on a long-lost love."
"He's homeless, Liv."
"I know, but he's Jim, and he told me so."
"You are so cheating in this game."
"Guilty as charged. But it's so good to try and envision these whole different lives for strangers, sometimes even for me. The air between us is loaded and a question is lingering. The first to buckle is Elliot.
"What about us? What can someone say about us if he sees us for the first time?"
"For a long time, I had an answer. Now…"
"He'd say that we are friends but we lost each other for a while. Probably that I'm a dickhead for up and leaving you but also that I'm a lucky son of a bitch for the only reason you are still talking to me. He'd say that at last, just as the leaves fall from the trees and ready themselves for being humus for the future, we discover our places on this earth, near one another. Finally, we are ready for our future. Not two, but one, united. If he was a Dickinson's fan, he'd say,
"If certain, when this life was out -
That yours and mine should be -
I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind,
And take Eternity."
I nod. I lean on his shoulder and I accept this eternity. He leaves a tattoo kiss on my head.
Outside is relentless but, yet, still. Here, on the inside, with my head on his shoulder is chaos and yet stability, is the pounding of my heart stilled by his steady and caring hand.
It's one mechanism that brings us back to our original spot.
Outside, my mind is a peaceful routine, broken here and there by something unusual. Here, it's altogether changing — all sounds are magnified, all actions count, and all the faces that come and go become a sculpture in my memory. The sun is brighter, the cold isn't so bothering. There's magic in this place because, for once, we are living it together.
More so, on this bright day of autumn, when the mist has left the place to a crystal sky the leaves are moving in a kaleidoscope of colors, spiraling towards a place we can finally call home, each other. Everyone, including my late mother, would think that a windy day in autumn is the epitome of decay and chaos. Not for me. It was and it is even nowadays soothing to let my soul wander while my mind is so occupied in trying to understand the movement of nature because in doing so, I understand myself and I have let you in. We are finally leaves with a companion for life, storming what may come in a perpetual dance.
The author of this SVU - Autumn in New York story will be revealed in November