The Beginning

The morning rain had drenched the city and the lines in the sidewalk lines were still dark. The sun had since burst through the heavy clouds and the heat from the July summer day was amplified by the extra dose of humidity. I walked more carefully this morning. Yesterday I nearly lost my big toe nail in a battle of toe vs. rough concrete. My mind felt refreshed. It had been months since I had slept that long. The job at Drisden Investments had been rewarding financially but draining in most all other aspects of my life. The job finally made possible the relocation from the musty apartment on 9th Street to the more spacious and airy condo on 2nd Street and Bentley. The real benefit gleaned from working so much was that I had very little time to spend at the new pad.

It was beneficial in that the place felt lonely since Stacey moved out. Stacey was the dream girl that I had met at the Fieldhouse during my Senior year at Columbia. We happened to both be looking for a tennis partner and soon the tennis games lead to getting drinks together and after about 5 months she moved in. Now, 2 years later, my days were mundane without her. I never thought I'd miss the sound of the blow dryer at 5 A.M. but now I'd give anything to be woken up by her getting ready for the day. One could argue that the relationship decayed slowly over multiple weeks but to me it felt abrupt, like that terrible feeling of rear ending the car in front of you. It happened on a night when I came home late. Of course I was late,I had been putting in extra hours almost every night, anxious to obtain the next promotion. I found her sitting at the kitchen table. She looked different. Her hair was pulled up and she wore no makeup. To me she looked absolutely gorgeous. In fact, everytime I saw her like this it reminded me of the first day we met. Except that day she had just finished the running on the treadmill and was red in the face and wet with sweat. Stacey was also staying fit and whenever I started to think I was in really good shape, she would quickly remind me how far I had to go. Tonight, however, the care-free smile she once carried, was now replaced with a blank stare. A blank face, like a mime. I knew something was seriously wrong. I hung my laptop bag on the hook by the door and swung the door closed behind me. I think in my unease from the situation I pushed harder then was necessary and the door slammed shut with a thud. At least the door closed without applying a heavy shoulder to it and pulling up on the door handle. Then again, this place did cost $475,000 so it better have a door that will close without great physical involvement. She didn't seem to notice the bang. And then, it really was over, practically before it began. She stood up, wrapped her arms around my neck, told me she needed something new, and was gone. My heart told me to run after her but my brain was stuck. It was like the gray matter had been sloshed against my ivory skull and the result was a tidal wave of confusion. I stood still for probably 10 minutes. My feet felt cemented to the floor and my eyes were having a hard time focusing. I closed my eyes and that only made matters worse. The dizziness was overwhelming and I collapsed in a heap on the hardwood floor.

Tears didn't come. At least not that night. Nor the next in fact. I went 2 weeks before I came home, called out her name, and realized she REALLY was gone. Even that annoying Yorkie I had threatened to drop kick at least once a week now felt missing. I busied myself with other things. I took up painting again but that didn't seem to help. I rode the stationary bike until my quads would spasm. I started watching cooking shows on cable television. And then I started spending money. A lot of it. Didn't matter if it was wanted or needed, I bought it; New computer, tv, summer clothes, flip flops, etc.

That's where I was headed now in fact. To buy something. I wasn't sure what but I had a feeling that the heat would influence the decision. I was now nearing the street market that dominated Donovan Avenue from about 11th to 14th every Saturday morning. Then I heard and felt it. The crackling of brick being blown to pieces and the bits of plaster and brick being sprayed into my face. It was then I realized that the bullet had graced my ear, instantly flowing down my shoulder and arm. This would be alarming except for the realization that I had just been 2 inches away from having my head become a splatter of graffiti on the wall. After 15 years, 3 countries, and 2 different names, I had been tracked down. The impossible had been accomplished. I was back on the dart board and I had a feeling they didn't want to fail again.