Soliloquy

It was June and it was rain. 

From far above the city it was black and gray...but close enough to hear the cacaphony of sirens and the occasional horn.  New York was angry when wet, and it tended to seeth with clenched teeth that lowered the view with fog and low clouds. 

He had dialed her a few times throughout the day, but the ringing went the usual four times and then into voicemail. 

"Hi, this is--" Click...he lowered his thumb on the red radio button of his phone.

For a bit he watched the taxis, distinctively yellow and amazingly maneuverable move across the lanes below...the other cars melting in colors that were washed out...blues, whites, grays...only the taxis and their majority presence stood out in the scene.

He dialed her again.

This time, she picked up. 

Listen....he interrupted her...just listen.




I've been away from you awhile, but I think I remember your stare.  I think I remember a fast-burning retina when you were not looking at me but you were looking at who I was.  You loved me in that glance...and now...

and now...you look at me like the stranger on the elevator who expected a clean ride to the bottom but I disturbed his descent...like a beaten prisoner who hears the footsteps in the stairwell of his next interrogator...like the person on the street who accidently bumps into me but keeps walking.

You glance at me.  You lower your lids to me.  A slow blink of disregard.

I find that maddening.  I find the whole concept frightening.  

She murmured back to him..."frightening?"

Yeah.  It's frightening....because what it means...at least in my take-away...is that one of us is dead.

"Dead?"

Yeah...at least to each other.  

Taxis jockeyed for awhile around stopped trucks, horns blaring their discontent.  Sidewalks moved slowly with the parade of umbrella clutchers and the city looked down and rained gray wet rain.  The city moved along though.  It let out its breath.

Yeah...he returned to say...it must be me.  I am really...really sorry about being unable to bring back life in a look.  I'm really sorry that I cannot put lanterns back behind your eyes and maybe some light when you pause to cast a gaze.  And as I watch a city that I have seen a million times...like the way you saw me a million times as well...I get that you will just keep watching but never really looking...never really staring.  At least at me anymore.

The phone was like an oxygen-line in a hospital...somebody breathing in and something providing oxygen.

He hung up, pretty sure which was which.