City Love(21)

I nodded.

That first day on our walk around the reservoir, I found out that Vienna was fourteen, lived way up at the top of Manhattan in Inwood, had two hamsters named Beaker and Dr. Honeydew, loved Spree except for the yellow ones, and lost her brother when she was ten. She wore an oversize tee with her brother’s photo so everyone would know why she was walking.

“Who are you walking for?” she asked.

I didn’t want to talk about it.

That was fine with Vienna. She had lots of other things to talk about. We immediately clicked that first day and have walked together every year since.

When I approach the check-in table, Dakota gives me her signature warm smile. Her familiar scent of sandalwood incense comforts me.

“Sadie,” she says. “Welcome.”

“Hi, Dakota.”

“Happy solstice.”

“Happy solstice. I love your scarf.” Dakota is rocking a new orange and pink striped summer scarf over a flowy lime-green sundress. She clashes in the most rebellious ways. It’s one of the many reasons I love her so much.

“Thanks, hon. You’re starting college this fall, right?”

“Yeah, at UNY.”

“Great school. I always knew you were a smart cookie.” She sighs. “Amazing how time flies, isn’t it? Seems like yesterday you were walking with us for the first time. How could that have been five years ago?”

“I don’t know,” I say. But I kind of do. Five years ago feels like five years ago. Older people tend to perceive time differently. They’re always saying how quickly time passes. Dakota would have loved to trade places with me senior year. Time was taking its sweet time. It felt like forever until I could move out.

After I check in, I relax on the hill. The lake is peaceful today. As I’ve been feeling less than at peace lately, its calm serenity is a welcome respite. I lie back on the grass and gaze out at the water.

“Hey, Sadie,” Vienna says, climbing up to me. She’s wearing the same tee she wears every year for this. Same photo of her brother. Same dates below the photo.

“Hey, Vienna.”

“Long time no see.”

I laugh. The only time we ever see each other is once a year for this.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“Taking it one day at a time. You?”

“About the same.”

Vienna sits next to me. We watch more people arriving and greeting each other. Old friends reunite. Small cliques gather to catch up. Vienna takes off her rubber bracelet and plays with it, stretching it over and over. This year the bracelets are yellow with purple printing that says WE WILL NEVER FORGET.

Vienna looks the same way she did when we first met. Vulnerable. Lonely. Hungry for connection. “You look good,” she says.

I snort.

“No, you do. Like, really good. Are you on a cleanse or something?”

“Um, no. Restricting my body to four hundred calories a day is not my idea of fun times.”

“Are you still a vegetarian?”

“Of course.”

“So it’s not an iron-slash-protein rush that’s making you glow.”


I sit up and shove Vienna with my shoulder. She thinks being a vegetarian is making me weak. In Vienna’s perfect world, everyone would eat meat like the proud omnivores we were meant to be.

“You think I’m glowing?” I say.

“There is a definite glow happening.”

I smile shyly at the grass.

“Oh!” Vienna yells. “There’s a guy! How could I not have known? Who is he?”

“He’s . . . this boy I just met.”

“And he’s already making you glow? I’m impressed. What’s his name?”

“Austin.”

“We like Austin because . . .”

“He’s amazing,” I answer without thinking. Or maybe it’s that I feel more amazing with him than I ever have before. There’s just something about him that feels like home.

“How did you meet?”

“At my internship. We had the best time hanging out last night. It started out as a spontaneous thing, but totally turned into our first date. We’re going out again tonight.”

“Damn, girl. Sadie don’t waste no time.”

Dakota rings a chain of bells. That’s the signal for everyone to gather by the check-in table. We’ll start walking up to the reservoir in a few minutes. Vienna and I head down the hill.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” she says. “You must be dying for tonight to get here.”

“Totally.”

“Does Austin have a cute friend? I could use some boy time later to take my mind off all this.”

Even if he did, the four of us would never do anything together. Vienna and I would never be part of any group hang. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to be friends with her in real life. The bond we share is tight. The weird thing is, we never see each other except for once a year at the Remembrance Walk. Getting together other times would somehow dilute the intensity of our annual gathering. And I’m not sure how well our bond would hold up outside of Central Park. It’s almost as if taking what we share outside of this context would blow everything up. My friends would ask how Vienna and I met. Then I would have to tell them about the walk. Then I would have to tell them why I walk, which is something I’m not ready for any of my friends to know about. Keeping that part of my life compartmentalized is the only way I can stay optimistic. Vienna and I have bonded over our shared loss. Our bond grows stronger every year. Vienna told me that everyone in her life knows about her brother. But I need to restrict my loss to this time and space. This walk allows me to grieve one day a year. That’s all I will allow myself. All the other days, I can pretend it never happened.