A Singular Witness

Central Park

On the morning of their last day in New York, there was a strained silence around the table at breakfast.  Ali had taken to studying Daniel and Quinn in a peculiar fashion during their morning meetings over the last few weeks.

Looking at Daniel, Ali abruptly stated, "I talked with your father and he has insisted on setting up appointments with a therapist for you both when we return."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, her spoon midway between her breakfast bowl and her mouth.  A piece of grapefruit was balanced on her spoon, light glistening in the juice so that it looked like a jewel about to join her pearly rows of teeth, which were still suspended in anticipation of the bite.

"We're fine."  Daniel said, looking tentatively from Quinn to Ali.

Ali grimaced.  "You witnessed a murder-suicide for Christ's sake.  I'm not exactly sure what your definition of 'fine' is, in light of such circumstances, but in my experience the term 'fine' has never been anything more than a euphemism for feelings one lacks better vocabulary to describe."

"You're always so damn clever."  Daniel said crossly.  His eyes flashed as he opened his mouth, and then closed it again, having thought better of what he had been about to say.

Ali looked anguished.  "I'm only trying to help.  What a damn thing to have happened."  He slumped resignedly back in his chair.

Sonia and Jeremy watched silently from across the table as this exchange took place.  Speaking up rather meekly Sonia said, "The editing on the New York footage has been really tricky.  You are both always looking back over your shoulders, when the eye level feed is only ever any good if you are faced forward."

Quinn shrugged.  "I know I look back now when I'm running.  I always have this sensation that there's something I missed.  I keep thinking I might catch sight of whatever it is, but nothing's ever there.  I'm sorry if I've been screwing up the feed.  Daniel probably only looks back to see why I'm being so slow." 

Daniel looked away, not wanting his expression to betray confirmation.

"So you see a counselor a few times when we return.  It isn't like you'd be going together.  If you're really fine, whatever that means, then do it for me.  I'm a Goddamn wreck over what happened.  If you care anything about my conscience, then please ease it just a little by agreeing to do this."  Ali looked at them imploringly.

Quinn shrugged.  "I'll go, I have no problem going.  It isn't a big deal."

"It's fine.  The counseling, I mean."  Daniel sighed.

###############

Sonia wired them up after breakfast, avoiding eye contact.  Quinn was determined to face forward for the length of the day's run.  Their path took them up Fifth Avenue from Madison Square to Central Park.  When they arrived at the intersection of Fifth Avenue with Forty-Second Street, Quinn touched Daniel's arm, jogging off of the sidewalk toward the New York Public Library.  Daniel followed behind her, and they both slowed as they reached the marble steps of the great building, which loomed over an expansive street vista that stretched from the stairs guarded on either side by marble lions, to the Fifth Avenue curb. 

They walked through the huge portico that formed the front of the building, the entrance framed by three looming arches that curved gracefully over massive columns of marble.  The library was cool inside, the light soft against the bright marble surfaces of its interior. 

"It always seems to me like time slows down inside of libraries."  Quinn said, turning to face Daniel.  "If we stay here just a little while, maybe our last day will last longer."

Daniel reached for her hand, grasping only the tips of her fingers as she walked just out of reach, onto the stairs that led to the upper floors of the library.  He followed her up, into a hall paneled in wood, with large frescoes painted on arched ceilings overhead.

As he approached her he touched her back, bare at the midriff over her running garb.  "Nothing has to change when we get home."  He said, his tone quiet.

"Things don't have to change, but they always do."  She smiled, her eyes soft.

Daniel looked at her intently.  "Some things don't change."

"That's true."  Quinn sighed, looking away.  "We should get moving.  I feel like I already botched most of our New York feed.  I don't want our last day to be a complete wash."

She walked away in the direction of the stairs.  They picked up their pace as they left the library, Daniel jogging beside her back onto the street.  They ran up Fifth Avenue past upper end stores with gleaming glass fronts, arriving in Central Park at the end of the Fifth Avenue stretch.  Their path curved around the Central Park Pond, with the Gapstow Bridge forming a graceful curve over the water.  The stone bridge was draped in bright green ivy, and a single crane perched on the glassy surface of the pond, the bird's bright white reflection cutting a stark contrast with the slate grey rock and vivid green foliage of its surroundings. 

There was a tree growing in a round patch of garden bed nestled in the curve of the path that caught Quinn's attention.  The tree's trunk was slender, and the wood of its bark was so sleek and dark it resembled an upright eel.  Slender branches twisted off from the trunk at odd angles, their delicate tangle culminating in the emerald crown of the tree.  As a whole, the shape of the tree resembled a wisp of smoke rising from a birthday candle that has just been blown out.  Quinn recalled how the trees in Bryant Park had been similar, though straighter and more slender.

She thought of the oak tree that grew strong and stout in Toby's front yard back in Norborne.  The previous fall she had seen entire flocks of tawny little prairie birds bluster out of the tree's crown when someone walked into the yard, so that it looked as though the leaves of the tree themselves were taking flight.  She faced forward as she ran, sweat running down her forehead and blurring her eyes.  She wiped her eyes with her hand, clearing up a view of the dark bedrock that formed the barrier between they playground and ball fields. 

She could remember the smell of sandstone baking in the sun on hot summer hikes at the lake that sat on the outskirts of Norborne, the outcroppings of rock dissolving at the edge of the water into a fine red sand that formed the only beach she had ever known prior to this trip.  Toby could swim the length of an Olympic length pool under water, and one of his favorite tricks when they went swimming together in the lake had been to disappear, surfacing again where Quinn neglected to look.

Her chest was tight, and throbbed in sync with her footfalls.  She looked over at Daniel, who was running a little in front of her.  Without meaning to, she slowed her pace and Daniel ran ahead.  Over the top of Central Park's gum drop green trees stood the city's sky scrapers, stacked along the park's perimeter like candy cigarettes.  Daniel had gained enough distance to be framed against the horizon in her line of sight, and he suddenly seemed as strange to her as everything else in her surroundings.