Anew

A Story by Mirjana Ilic

A mans night is unexpectedly changed when he meets an interesting person on a late night train ride.

Anew

Underground subway, Manhattan - 4:03 am
Ezra

Quiet. A single man, his dark face lined with creases, finishes gathering his guitar, collects his tips and makes his way up the staircase and into the bare streets of Manhattan. Through the tunnel the vibration of an approaching train makes its way to the surface of my skin, its frequency reaching my ears within seconds. The headlights come into view as the train gets closer, and they pass in the blink of an eye as the train continues down the tunnel to its destination, its train cars barely lit and empty passing in a blur. The subway is dirty, it releases an unnameable stench know only to the underground.
I stand at the edge of the chasm which contains the rail, and whose depths would be unknown were it not for the pale red lights strewn along the walls. Across from me graffiti stains the bricks. I look around and see a woman carrying a briefcase. She walks without removing her eyes from the tile floor beneath her, her pencil skirt making it difficult for her to take large strides. She makes her way upstairs, leaving me to myself once more.
Once again a train is heard in the distance and as it approaches its wheels begin to screech, slowing it down. I prepare myself to enter as the ground begins to rumble and the yellow headlights illuminate my skin. It comes to a stop in front of me and its doors open, releasing a wave of cool air produced by the trains air conditioning system. I enter and take the seat closest to the door. I would, after all, be getting off soon.
As the doors begin to close I hear a scream outside of the train followed by the pattering of footsteps. "No!" I hear the female voice call out again. Before the doors come to a complete close I stand up and without a second thought I put my hand between the now only inches apart doors, preventing them from closing. The doors automatically retract, but not before sending a shock of pain throughout the whole of what I call my right hand, and leaving before me a girl.
"Thank you." she breaths and enters the train.

* * *

Club Phoenix, Manhattan - 12:23 am
Ezra

Another night, another club. The second floor of Phoenix is a balcony which wraps around the walls and leaves a hole in the center of the floor through which one cans see the first floor beneath it. I stand on the balcony alone and observe the crowd below me from a birds eye view. The club is filled to the brim, the crowd hops and spins around to the music being played by the DJ who is placed in the very center of the madness. Mason, my brother, aka the DJ, spins his records and pumps his arm to the beat, sweat dripping down his brow. The strobe lights around him spotlight him in a rainbow of colors. His smile is nothing less than priceless. Around him the club reacts to his every drop. Hundreds of bodies move to the house music booming from the speakers, soaking up every second.
Mason was ecstatic before we arrived this evening. His DJ-ing has become quite well known throughout the city, to the point where he has several gigs a weekend. I as his most loyal fan get a first class seat to every show. However, recently it hasn't been making as much of an impact on me. Every show is the same, the crowd always does the same thing. Its not entertaining anymore. The same bass can only make ones head pound for so long before it settles on its own. Of course I enjoy supporting my brother, but it doesn't affect me in the same way it does him. It barely affects me at all considering it leaves me indifferent.
I turn my attention back to the dog pile of human bodies below me and watch as they sing and move while I remain silent and still, as if I was a mute man without legs.

* * *

Back alley of Manhattan - 2:07 am
Eva

The homeless of New York City clumsily fill its lesser inhabited back alleys, making their unwanted stay in The Big Apple one longer and much less comfortable than expected. I walk through the alley alone, dragging my boots along the blacktop and kicking occasional rocks which happen to catch my eye. Around me the last of trashcan fires turn to embers leaving behind only smoke which drifts into the air closest to it before spreading throughout the whole alley, making it smell as if the place itself had been ablaze.
I continue walking, avoiding the seemingly lifeless bodies spread out across the floor, before coming across a man whose beard would be white had it not been soaked in the dirty city air for so long. He calls out to me, addressing me as "girl". I turn to him and throw my eyes to the ground on which he is positioned, half lying half leaning against the bricks of the wall behind him. He is covered in greasy blankets, with more holes than material, and seems to be shivering, though the breeze is quite pleasant in my opinion. His scent, a mixture of dust and body odor, attacks my nostrils.
"Ya new here?" he asks, the slight gnarl in his voice leaves me feeling uneasy. I just stare at him and watch as he begins to stir, trying to stand up though it is quite obvious that he is having a difficult time. I take a step back as he releases a grunt of sorts and collapses back onto the ground. He continues grumbling something under his breath and falls to his side, giving up on what ever he had intended to do. I lose track of time as I stand there and stare, wondering what just happened, or what could have happened. The man with the filthy beard begins to snore and I snap out of it, turn towards the light at the end of the alley and take my next step towards it.

* * *

Outside Club Phoenix, Manhattan - 3:42 am
Ezra

"Come on Ezra!" Mason shouts at me.
"I'm gong home Mason."
"We have a whole flat to ourselves, Kenan says it's on the house. Everyone is going to be there and I promise you it will be the after party of the year. Why are you such a downer?"
Everyone outside of the club has turned to stare at us. I just stare at him. Sweat no longer drips down his forehead and he looks calm and composed. His beady eyes pierce into mine and for a second I contemplate going but nonetheless reply, "See you tomorrow Mason."
I hear him huff as he turns around and makes his way down the street followed by an entourage of people going to the flat as well, with or without an invitation. They just want to continue the fun. I don't see the fun in any of it.
I turn myself and head in the opposite direction towards the subway. I catch myself hurrying and shorten my step. I have plenty of time before my train arrives. Around me the late August winds slowly gust, throwing around plastic bags and lose flyers. Even at 4 am the New York City is breathing, its lungs exhaling as the wind pauses. The city seems alive even though, beside the taxis that travel to and fro, only a few early birds walk its streets.
The buildings surrounding me stretch in long rows, the streets seem endless. Normally they make me feel at home, comfortable even, but now I feel as if I am trapped within their narrow streets, like I'm gasping for air. It's never been a problem before. The city has never bothered me in a such a way. My eyes seem to shut off just as I feel the sensation of bricks falling from the tops of the story-high buildings, pounding on my head as the roofs of the skyscrapers collapse and fail to hold together their pieces, letting each brick fall. One by one.
I close my eyes and when I open them the city is still. I continue walking a bit more before the entrance to the subway appears in front of me. I take one last look at the city I call my home before lowering my foot onto the first step leading me into the underground.

* * *

Unknown street in Manhattan - 3:56 am
Eva

I rummage through my bag searching for anything that could tell me what time it is. I reach into my back pocket, an instinct, before remembering that there isn't a cellphone there, and there hasn't been in 3 months. My stomach makes a noise not so unfamiliar to me considering the last few weeks. I hadn't eaten since this morning, and the minute amount of breakfast I had did little to satisfy me. I had emerged from the alley and headed in the direction I knew the subway to be. I trust my instincts though I honestly have absolutely have no idea where I am. If only I could find a clock.
Behind me I hear the approaching sound of heels and the shrill laughter of female voices. I turn to see two blondes, wearing horrendous knock-off tutu's, basically skipping down the street, their elbows interlocked.
"Excuse me..." I say. They both stop mid skip, landing a bit clumsily. One of them even staggers as though she twisted her ankle a bit. "Could one of you please inform me as to what time it is?"
"Of course" says the girl to my left but doesn't do anything after replying. I watch as she stands still, smiling at me. The girl who may or may not have almost twisted her ankle looks to the girl standing beside her and shakes her head as she reaches into her bag. After a second she finds her phone, and after staring at it in confusion for a second too long says "Its 3:59."
"Oh no." I say to myself.
"What?" says the girl to my left
"Nothing! Thanks!" I yell at them as I pick up my step.
"No need to yell!" One of them yells in return as I speed away. I ignore them as I begin to run, holding my bag tightly to my side. The only thoughts in my mind begin to circle... I'm going to be late. I'm going to be late.

* * *

Subway Car, Manhattan - 4:08
Ezra

She sits across from me. Her hair is a light chestnut, though I'm not exactly sure what color a light chestnut would be. However, I do believe that someone who knows what they're talking would say such a thing. Beside the point, her straight hair, its ends tangled, reaches down below her chest. Her ridiculously thin legs loosely slide into her ankle-laced boots, her faded Levi's and worn leather jacket hang off her little frame.
"Are you cold?" I ask.
She looks at me. Her face is calm, her soft features and freckles make her look young. The grey in her foggy blue eyes immediately catches my attention, and had she not shaken her head as she spoke I wouldn't have even realized she'd replied at all. She remains quite and I look at the rattling floor of the subway car. Little specks of dirt bounce around to the vibrating of the train. I follow a rather large speck as it bounces around before I hear her voice.
"I'm Eva." She says and the accent in her voice becomes apparent to me.
"Ezra." I reply. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No." she says, the 'o' sounding long and nasal. "I bear from London." A grin stretches across her jaw but only for a second before it retreats once more.
"What are you doing in New York... if I may ask?"
Eva laughs slightly though her gaze becomes cold. The Graffiti covered advertisement encased in glass hanging behind her head rattles as though it were about to come loose. She looks to her boots and then looks back to me.
"I ran away." she states simply. Before I finish formulating my next inquiry she continues. "And I bet you're wondering why?" I nod. She stands up, adjusting her leather jacket, and as the train comes to a turn she grabs the pole standing vertically next to her, holding her balance. She basically stumbles over and sits to my left. Her proximity leaves me a bit uneasy, but at least she doesn't stink. She takes a deep breath and I notice her rubbing her hands together.
"Are you positive you're not cold?" I ask.
"100%. I think I'd know if I was cold." The accent makes the words sound a bit more nasty then they would be in any other case. "I'm just not sure where to start."
"If you don't feel comfort..."
She interrupts me. "I want to."
"You are aware I am a complete stranger?" My voice softens without my intention as the words leave my lips. Her eyes pierce into mine, but not in the same way Mason's do. They aren't asking for anything. They are just looking, observing. For a second she hesitates before replying, "Completely."
"Then go for it." I say. And so she begins.

* * *

Subway Car, Somewhere between Brooklyn and Manhattan - 4:14 am
Eva

"I'm a Hatson ." I say. He stares at me and the look in his brown eyes makes it fairly clear he has absolutely no idea what I am talking about. "Hatson's are the royal families most trusted attorneys and lawyers. Both my parents, grandparents, my older half brother, and even the majority of my relatives have studied law and in some way have helped the royal family in their most unlawful times of need in the last century or so. Nevertheless, it would be an understatement to say they aren't one of the most powerful families in all of the UK."
He averts his eyes. "And you ran away? I mean, from what I can assume, money mustn't have been the problem..."
"It's not the problem. It's not about money and it never was. It was, moreover, about the problems money, and the power which came along with it, caused. Honestly, I could of had anything. It means nothing, however, when you want something money can't buy."
The train comes to a stop. The doors open and then close again without letting in any new passengers. Ezra's and my eyes meet. His features have turned soft, though I can see the confusion in his brow. His square jaw shows early signs of 5 o'clock shadow. The train begins to move again. He smells of expensive men's perfume.
"And what is that which you desire?" he asks me.
"Happiness."
"That's a bit mainstream." He says with a slight laugh in his throat.
"The fact that it is considered 'mainstream', as you say, just proves that it is way too common of an occurrence. Happiness shouldn't be a luxury. Nor should it be paralleled wit the possession of money. Just because you have one doesn't mean you have the other.
"True."
We both stare in front of us at the rows of bricks passing by through the window. They vary in color and ever few seconds the wall becomes black because of a sudden lack of light in the tunnel. I feel my feet vibrate in my boots. I cross my legs.
"And?"
"Well," I say, "As we've concluded money can't buy happiness. My parents played a scant role in my life up until about four months ago when they decided I was to become and Oxford law student, a diplomat of sorts. Through some sort of mutual friend they got me in without my knowledge. Just like that they put me on a boat sailing straight for an island on which everyone becomes them. I didn't want to become my parents.
"I'm guessing you have other aspirations?"
"I'm a dancer. I've been dancing ballet ever since I was a child. It's all I've ever loved, and as cliché as it sounds, it's the only thing that's ever made me feel at home. Getting into Julliard has been my dream ever since I could spell my own name. My parents took that away from me. I admit it was extremely selfish of me, running away like that, but I couldn't give it all up. I couldn't imagine losing all my dreams and replacing them with the horrific ones my parents pressured me with. And on top of that they told me if I didn't do as they ever so politely requested, they would leave me to fend for myself.
"And that's what happened?"
"In a way... I left before they could disown me. I just gathered my things, took my personal savings and came to New York. When I had arrived I stayed with a friend, a family friend to be precise. Of course I didn't tell them why I just showed up on a random afternoon. Sooner or later word got around, my parents found out where I was, and they threw a fit to say the least. The family friend said I couldn't stay with them any longer, they didn't want any trouble with my parents. So, I left. That was about three months ago."
I look to him and I see his cheek bones drop as his face fills with concern. He begins to rub his forehead and tap his converse shoe on the floor of the train, the metal sound vibrates throughout the whole train. "What then?" he asks.
"Well you could say since then I've been living on the streets. By the time I had gotten here it was already too late to apply to Julliard, and even if I did I'm sure my parents would have found a way to get my application thrown away even before it got to the mail room." I pause. "The thing is I want to be happy. Whether or not anyone I know agrees with me or encourages me to do the things I love really makes no difference. In the end the only person I can please is me. I can't make others happy if I don't make my self happy first. It really is my life, and it's hard for people to understand that, but I give them no choice." I pause again, a smile spreading across my face. "And of course, not to brag, but I'm an amazing dancer. It would be a shame to let such a rare talent go to waste"
He laughs and then stops. I realize he is looking up at the map which tells us at which stop we are on. "Oh no, I've missed my stop."
I laugh. "What now?"
"Nothing." he says and looks at me. "Where are you headed?"
"Well I definitely don't want to spend my winter on the chilly New York Streets. I'm Going to California. My stop is in a few minutes, from there I'll catch a bus to Chicago. Then I'll road trip to California. Just like your average American hippy, or hipster, or whatever you call them. After that... who knows"
We sit in silence for a few moments before I turn to Ezra. "What is your story?"
"Mine?" he questions. I nod.
"Well, I was born and raised in New York. I..." He stops.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I don't know. The thing is I don't have anything interesting to say. I have no story."
"How can you have no story?"
"I have no story because I haven't done anything interesting. I have, however, done everything anyone has ever requested of me. I went to Harvard when my parents told me to, I follow my infamous brother around and watch as he lives his life to its fullest, as he accomplishes every dream he has ever had. Except of course for marrying Lana Del Ray, that one isn't really working out for him." He pauses and looks at me. His eyes have completely softened and it takes a bit of strength for me to avert my gaze. "I've put my life in the hands of others, and I have never even thought of it in that way. I've never even thought of rebelling. It's always just been the way it is and the idea of changing things to suite me never even occurred to me. Honestly, I don't remember the last time I was truly happy."
I remain silent and stare at the floor. Slowly I feel the train begin to elevate as we climb the tracks and before I know it we come out onto a platform which raises higher and higher above the city. I look through the window and see rows of skyscrapers stretching for miles as if they were a sea, the different shapes and sizes of buildings creating waves. Behind the buildings the sun is rising into the sky. It releases its subtle rays which cover the whole of the city and even manage to fill the train car with its light. The hues of orange and yellow mix almost harmoniously, creating an unbelievable sight. As we travel the sunrise gets stronger and stronger, its light illuminating everything in orange.
"It's really quite beautiful." I say looking out the window.
"It really is."

* * *

Subway platform, Brooklyn - 4:25 am
Ezra

The train begins to slow and Eva stands up. "This is my stop." I stand up as well and she smiles.
"Don't go, you can stay at my house and have a good nights, that is, good mornings sleep..." I offer, tying to put on the smile Mason always uses to get me to do what he wants.
"Sorry Ezra, But I must be on my way." The accent seemed stronger as she said that.
"Is there any way we could keep in touch?"
"You'll see me on Broadway in a couple of years." The widest smile appears on her face and I can see she really believes the words which escape from her lips. Eva turns towards the door. "Ezra, do what makes you happy, okay?" She turns back around and looks right into my eyes. I feel my pupils melting and it takes a surprisingly large amount of effort not to look away. "Don't let them take away the best years of your life." The train comes to a full stop and the door opens.
"It was nice meeting you."
"It was my pleasure." I reply as she takes a step onto the platform.
With those last words she turns and makes her way across the platform. The doors begin to close again and I move over to watch her make her way to the staircase through the dirty window. She takes the first step down just as the train begins to move again. Her head quickly disappears without looking back once.
I sit down again and stare across the aisle to the seat in which she sat when she first entered the train. My mind is a mess, thoughts flying from one earlobe to another, creating a chicken soup of words. I can't understand her bravery, she has absolutely no idea what she was doing. Yet, she went with it because it made her happy. Was that really all it took? I keep pondering these thoughts until the train comes to a stop again. I stand up and wait for the doors to open, and when they do I step out onto the platform feeling completely different, feeling like the streets can no longer enclose me. Feeling free. Feeling anew.

© 2015 Mirjana Ilic

Author's Note

Feel free to leave reviews, they're much appreciated :)

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Featured Review

Marcel Grant

First off: Your attention to detail, the rattling of the city, the flickering of old lights and the dirt filled subways was fantastic. I visit the city a lot, and I could easily see the setting well, I was reminded of everything with every word you gushed out into this story. Loved your detail and writing. Wonderful.

Second: The story was also good, and I loved the shifting point of views and the time and location for each shift. I love these kind of stories where the simple things, the day to day stuff brings out the best of characters. I really enjoyed what happened between the two characters and I'm glad you didn't go with the cliche ending of them being together.

If there was anything about it I could criticize, just a little, was the dialogue. Honestly it was mostly really good and flowed well. The only part that seemed a little forced was Eva's dialogue when she explains why she's here and what she plans to do. It just seemed a little long winded... And then the point of finding happiness was also mentioned in the dialogue maybe one too many times.

You really know how to bring out subtly in your details, like the way Ezra stands watching Eva leave, and how she doesn't look back not once. It shows her determination and his hesitation. I felt like with your writing, you could have hinted at the moral do what makes you happy, without it sounding as forced as it was. You know?

Don't let the criticism get you down though. I usually don't write this long of a review, nor do I nitpick, unless I really like a story. These kind of stories make me THINK, make me WANT to find problems with it. This story, I really really liked. You did a great job and I'll be checking around for more stories by you when I get a chance. =)