Three Days at Columbus Circle

            It was New Years Eve. I had just finished a long day, and was looking forward to seeing Will for the first time in a while. He had been my best friend since kindergarten, and we didn’t get to see each other much since heading out to college. He was getting in at the Port Authority bus terminal. I had just crossed over to Ninth Avenue from the studio, which was by forty-second and seventh. I had left to go to get a coffee and some pizza, but when I came back, the police had already set up the blockades along the east side of 8^th Avenue. It was about 4:00pm. I had to wait by the barricades until he showed up. His friends we were meeting had just arrived at Grand Central, and seeing as we couldn’t head east because of the barricades, we started north and planned to meet them in the Upper East Side once we could get around the crowds. We ended up having to go up all the way to Fiftieth Street.

 

…

 

            “Is this, like, a well-known place?” He said.

            “This is Columbus Circle.” I said. He looked at me with a blank expression.

            “I guess you’ve probably seen it in a movie, maybe.” I said.

            “I think I’ve been here before.”

            “Ok.” I said. We looked at each other and laughed a little too hard.

            “When?” I said.

            “Umm… We definitely came here ‘cause… over the summer during our trip.” He said, in reference to his family.

            “Did you guys walk around central park?” I asked.

            “Uh. I think.” I looked at him. We laughed.

            “You think?”

            “I don’t know!”

            “What do you mean you don’t know?”

            “Like, it could’ve been any park maybe!”

            “Ok, well, was it this park?”

            “…Definitely.” We laughed a lot.

 

…

 

We kept walking east on fiftieth until we got to the Lexington Avenue line and met up with Will’s friends uptown. We waited for the subway for a while as he continuously called it the ‘T’, and I continuously corrected him. When you’ve lived a place your whole life, it’s hard to break habits. We met his friends and got cheap sushi. They went to a party, but he wanted to me to show him some bars near my campus in the financial district. We spent most of the night at a bar called Wild Horse, where we both decided that the bartenders were probably the most attractive of any of the other bars, and he wanted to stay. We had a couple of shots, some pints, and as the ball dropped we all got complimentary champagne glasses; tiny plastic cups, most with cracks down them. We drank more and in a bit he was making out with a girl he had eyed from the moment we had walked in. I was talking to her friend somewhat awkwardly a few feet away. I felt weird talking to her but I imagined I’d have felt weirder not talking to her. Someone bumped them and we realized we were tired and left. He threw up in the parking lot. Not a long drawn out sickly vomit, but a quick one, while he was still walking; it was actually impressive. I got off the train at union square, wished him luck getting back to the apartment, and I got on the L train heading into Brooklyn. I victoriously reached the bathroom before I peed in my pants and then fell into my borrowed bed for the night.

 

 

………………………………………………

 

 

            It was the weekend after Valentines Day. I was going to finally see her for the first time this semester. She was coming into the city to visit her family, and she and I planned to meet for coffee quickly after I got off of work. I reminded her how excited I was to see her that morning because I felt badly about being angry with her the previous night. She hadn’t responded to my text for a day, but I really needed to know when I could see her that day so I could plan accordingly. I told her the studio was close to Columbus Circle, and she told me she’d meet me there when I was out at 6:00pm. It was 5:58pm when I lied and said I had an interview and asked if I could leave. I hastily walked from West End Avenue to Central Park West. She texted me while I was walking: “Ok its wildly crowded”

 

            “Excuse me ma’am.” I said to her while bumping her from behind. She turned she looked confused, then smiled a little bit.

            “Hi.” She said, avoiding a full smile.

            “Hey!” I said. “How’s it going?”                         

            “Good.” She said.

            “Did you wanna get some coffee?”

            “No.” She said. “I think I’m good actually.”

            “Ok, wanna just walk around then?” I responded happily.

            “Sure!” She said, trying to sound more excited. “I have to be back kinda soon… at the apartment.”

            “Ok!” I said. “Let’s go this way.”

            “Why?” She said, wondering why we were going the opposite direction of where she gestured.

            “I just wanna take you over here for a second.” I said.

 

…

 

We walked a block over to Columbus Avenue. Since high school, our song had been “Columbus Avenue:” a song by a band she knew because her brother knew the lead singer. We had always talked about going and taking a picture by a street sign there, but we had never gotten around to it before, and that day didn’t feel like the day. She seemed a little worried she wouldn’t get back to the apartment in time. I started heading us east again so she wouldn’t be so worried.

 

…

 

            “Wanna walk around Central Park?” I asked.

            “Sure.” she said. I looked at her. “That sounds nice.”

            “Ok. Unless you want to get there quicker.”

            “No.” she said. “It’s fine. I have time.”

            “Ok, well I’ll try not to get us lost. I don’t know if you have ever walked around central park but it’s pretty easy to get lost.” I said, trying to make a joke. I didn’t end up coming up with a joke, but I did make a normal observation in a comedic tone.

            “I ran here the other day I think I know a good path.” she said.

            “Ok.”

 

We walked through Central Park. For the most part it felt normal, though I noticed she was a little more reserved than usual. I hoped everything was ok with her. I asked her a few times if she was ok and she said yes. I recall making her laugh a couple of times " not roaring laughter, but laughter. We looked around for an exit as we got to the east edge of the park. We walked up until we saw one. We were both relieved for different reasons. We walked by a row of benches when she asked if we could sit for a second. She told me she didn’t know how to tell me what she wanted to say. I wondered if everything was ok. She broke up with me. I didn’t say much. She said she didn’t think she was mature enough for a long-term relationship. I said it was ok. She said she was sorry. I said it was ok. She apologized again and I asked her how long she had thought about it. She said she started thinking about it over winter break and I said that was ok, as if my approval was suddenly important of every detail. She asked if she could give me a hug. I said it was ok. We hugged and she walked away without looking back. I sat for twenty seconds before I put my head in my hands and crying. I cried for around fifteen minutes before getting up and walking back to the train station. It felt like a long walk but it wasn’t. I rode the train back downtown and went to the cafeteria to get chicken fingers and french fries.  I took them back to the dorm and did not eat them. I went key foods and left with Cocoa Puffs, Bagel Bites, Ritz Crackers, and Famous Amos Cookies. I couldn’t go to bed that night so I laid awake for hours staring out the window until eventually I fell asleep.

 

 

………………………………………………

 

 

            It was the week before spring break. I was trying to nap before work. I had gotten out of class at 8:30am and knew I would be working late. I can never successfully nap though, so I did some homework instead. Then it was 10:50am and I had to go buy new black pants from K-Mart before getting to work at noon. My roommate asked me if I was going to the memorial for one of our classmates who had just passed away, but I told him I had to go to work. I went to K-Mart and looked around. After looking for a few minutes I asked where the Men’s section was and they told me it was downstairs. I went downstairs and looked for black pants. I picked up a pair that was too small and held it as I continued looking. I would rather wear pants that are too small than the wrong color pants. I happened to find two women who were distributing what seemed to be a pile of newly received black pants. They helped me find my size in the pile. I thanked them, and then went to get a black belt, realizing the one I was wearing was brown. I bought the pants and the belt and asked if there was a changing room in the store. I changed my pants and switched the contents of my pockets to the new pockets and headed out with a slightly larger backpack than before.

            I walked through two big doors with the big sign above them that said “Jazz.” That you can see from the circle. I then pushed the button by the elevators that said “push button to Jazz.” The novelty of “Jazz” quickly wore off. I got off the elevator and I was immediately lost. An employee of the theatre walked by and asked if I needed help, and I told him I was working on the Elizabeth Swados tribute event and he brought me down a long hallway that had white wooden boards along the left side. The boards had thousands of names scribbled on it, as well as the word “Jazz” in many places, and a long line of music notes. From there on the day went by quickly as I made sure everything was in it’s place. Finally, the grunt work was done and I sat and listened to some of the music. During sound check, an older woman with a deep voice sang a song that I didn’t understand. They stopped and said it was late enough to open the curtain. The heavy black drapery slowly lifted into the air and within moments we could see the entirety of central park, and right below, seemingly surrounding the stage, was the traffic of Columbus Circle. She sang from the beginning again.

 

…

 

            “The angel said to me, ‘why are you laughing?’

Laughing? Not me. Who was laughing?

I did not laugh. It was a cough. I was coughing.

Only hyenas laugh. I was not laughing.”

 

…

 

            I noticed for the first time the tall statue with a stone man on top in the center of the circle. I had seen it many times, but now that I was at the eye level of the man, I really noticed it. It was strange to think that he had been there the whole time. The woman kept singing.

 

…

 

            “It was the cold I caught, 9 minutes after Abraham married me.

When I saw how I was slender and beautiful. More and more slender and

      beautiful

I was also clearing my throat.

I was not laughing.”

 

…

 

            He had been there the whole time, looking over everything. He would see me, if he had eyes. But he was there the whole time and I never looked. He was a secret to me until I pushed that button to “Jazz”… When I went up the elevator and lifted the heavy black curtain I could see him. And the woman was still singing.

 

…

 

            “Something inside of me is continually telling me

            something I do not wish to hear. A joke. A big joke.

            But the joke is just always on me.

            And I’m not laughing.”

 

…

 

            Every time I had been there felt very different to me, but I’d imagine for someone who has been there for years it starts to blend together. When you’re looking on from above it must seem trivial: everything going around in a circle all the time. It must be predictable to someone up there. The woman kept singing.

 

…

 

            “The good lord said to me, you’ll have more children than the sky has had.
            And the sea shore says, just wait patiently.

            I’ve waited patiently ninety years to see

            The joke’s on me.”

 

…

 

            And everything even in this room that seems so new or perhaps so experimental must seem predictable too. In fact, if you’ve stood in such a place where so many unpredictable things happen, then unpredictability must become predictable. And if that’s true, what does it even mean to be unpredictable, or even predictable? The woman kept singing.”

 

…

 

            “The angel said to me, ‘why are you laughing?’

            Laughing? Not me. Who was laughing?

            I did not laugh. It was a cough. I was coughing.

            Only hyenas laugh.

 

            I was not laughing.”

 

…

 

            Then I went back to work. It was a quick day. The show went well. We gave champagne to everyone. We got a drink afterwards. I walked out of the building through Columbus Circle. I looked up at the man, but did not stop walking. I wonder if he would have thought it was strange if I did, or if he would have known either way. I wonder if he could know me better than I knew myself. I took the train home and slept.

Author's Note

Is the narration consistent? Does the narration flow well? Interested to hear if the seperation of narration and dialogue is effective or if it loses something. Does it seem there is there too much line description in the dialogue? Played around with the ending a lot but liked this version the best - how does the ending read to you? Any comments appreciated. Thanks for reading.