Fall From Grace(3)

“Conner and I are going to watch his friend’s band play later.  Text me when you get in and I’ll message you the address, in case you feel up to going out.”  Oh Lea, you’re so used to my stoic episodes.  Maybe a night of music and drinking would be the answer to my prayers, or at least it would numb my mind of this harsh life.

“Conner, huh? Sounds like a plan.  I’m almost on I-390 now.  I’ll see you in a few.”

“Oh man, you’re doing about 90, aren’t you?  Don’t kill yourself, please, I know you have a death wish, but I’d like to see you again, and in one piece, please.  Besides, I really want you to meet Conner.”  Her voice did nothing to hide her feelings for him and it made me smile.  Lea was such a beautiful soul. She deserved to find someone who could make her smile.

“I’m not driving anywhere near 90,” I replied.  Well, 120 was nowhere near 90 in my mind.  “I can’t wait to meet Conner too.”  I clicked off the phone and pushed the Jeep to go even faster.  The traffic was uncharacteristically thin and I found myself weaving through cars as if I was invisible.  If only I could be invisible, or at least not feel this sad world. If only I didn’t have to be so...human.

In the solace and loneliness of my front seat, while I sped through the world in a blur, my tears fell free.  I separated my mind from my body as I always do, and let the sorrow wash over my soul.  The sky slowly grew darker as my world tilted itself towards the moon. Great dark clouds assembled above, crowding the heavens and it opened up.  Hail pelted my windshield and the rain poured down, matching my mood. All of it was making me feel as if the heavens were mocking me.

I made the seven-hour trip in five hours, crying all the way.  At exactly 9:15, I had my few belongings back in the small Manhattan apartment that I began renting with Lea so long ago.  I sat down on the big brown couch we bought at a secondhand store downtown and looked around. Everything was the same.  It was as if I hadn’t left six months ago and Jake was still kicking pancreatic cancer’s ass.  One foot in front of the other, just keep moving forward.

Lea had texted directions to the bar to me, which read, Walk out door.  Turn right.  Walk around corner.  Find big sign that says Boozer’s.  Get smashed for Jake.

I walked back to my room and stripped out of my clothes. My shirt had gotten soaked with my tears.  I changed into an old comfortable pair of jeans and a small white T-shirt, thinking Lea would complain about how plain I looked. Then, I slipped on a pair of black stilettos that had been left in my closet.  I hoped the bar wasn’t too far, because I had a feeling that later on I’d be stumbling home barefoot.

Splashing water on my face in the bathroom was the only thing I did to freshen up. I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror.  I grabbed my jacket and ran my fingers through my hair to tame the tangles as I walked out the door.  I was never one to care about how I looked on the outside.  That wasn’t the real me anyway.  Not that I didn’t appreciate the way I looked now, I just didn’t feel it mattered, because how you look doesn’t change what’s in your soul.

Making my way down the street, I found comfort in the busy New York City sounds; the taxis flying through the streets, people talking, laughing, and shouting.  Like me, everything felt raw and alive in this city.  Raw and still very much alive.

Boozer’s kept an enormously cheesy neon light over its open front doors and the music from inside was drifting out into the street.  I was enamored with it before I even walked inside.  The front windows were made of small panes of glass that were foggy from the cold February night.  Old-fashioned lanterns hung from the old world brick fa?ade, making the building look as if it belonged in a small romantic Tuscany village, and not on a New York City Street.