The Boiling of the Bones

21. Home

I arrived on a Friday afternoon. Warm nostalgic feelings washed over me as the plane began to descend over Rockaway Beach and then the metropolis itself. The towering cityscape sparkled like diamonds in the sun.

As the plane touched down and taxied across the tarmac, it felt good to be home. I took the train into the city and got out at Grand Central Terminal. I should have found a cheap place in Jersey, but for my first night back I booked a room at the Hyatt right next door to the station. I showered and left my stuff in the room and went out onto the streets. I got a couple slices of pizza and headed back into Grand Central. The Subway has a distinct smell. It's a dusty, earthy, odor mixed with a faint whiff of the scent of overheating electrical motors or mechanical equipment.

I rode to Central Park and walked down the Promenade past the ponds and fountains, and it felt good to be home. As I soaked in the revelry, I made plans in my head. I was optimistically going to join a band and write music. With hard work and determination, it was all going to work out.

On a whim I decided to go to the ballet. I didn't even know if they were in town or had a show that night. I hopped onto the Subway to second avenue and eleventh street and sure enough, there was a performance in two hours. I walked about twenty blocks--a New York mile, to an Urban Outfitters near NYU, then to the fountain in Washington Square where I'd first seen Soph in New York.

I felt an urge to call her up out of the blue, but the last time I'd done that she had a boyfriend and it proved to be a little awkward. I'd be more subtle this time. I slipped into a new shirt I'd just picked out and threw the one was wearing into the trash. It was pretty worn out.

As I walked back to the ballet, I ducked into a florist shop along the way and bought a dozen roses. I didn't even check if she was in the company or not. Somehow, deep down inside, I knew she'd be there.

I got a front row ticket and took my seat fifteen minutes early. I perused the program with butterflies in my stomach. Yep, her name was there. The performance began and I was on the edge of my seat the entire show. During one of the numbers, she danced right across the front of the stage and came within ten feet of me. With the bright stage lighting, I wasn't sure if she'd seen me or not. She was dazzling. Radiant. I was so proud of her and happy for her. Here she was, she'd reached her dream.

After the show I lingered by the stage and after a few minutes she came out. She'd changed into street clothes. She was wearing a casual knee length blue and orange Hawaiian sundress. I went to give her the dozen roses and several men rushed her and gave her roses as well. One older man—probably in his sixties gave her a bouquet of something like fifty roses. I thought that was a little weird, but OK.

She graciously thanked him and gave him a polite hug. I figured he was probably a rich patron of the arts or something. After another moment of small talk, he shuffled out. Then she looked up at me. I read the expression on her face. Surprise. But I thought I saw a hint of joy as she approached.

"Hey stranger. What are you doing here?"

She smiled and I smiled back. I handed her the flowers.

"I'm back."

"Thank you. They're beautiful. When did you get back?"

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a big hug.

"A couple hours ago."

"You've got to tell me everything. So much has happened since you've been gone."

"You want to go somewhere, get a bite to eat or something? We can catch up on everything."

"OK. You like Pizza? I know a place."