A New York Romance (14 page)

“Why did you really decide to come to New York, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t really know,” she replied. “I miss my father. I suppose I wanted to get away from those memories of losing him. After he was gone, everything seemed dull. I got a job as a waitress. I dated someone for almost two years. He said he loved me but I was never really happy with him. You know how the saying goes, ‘every girl marries a guy just like dad’, or something. Well, I was one who wanted someone like my dad but Jason was far from my dad. So was Brian. My father was kind to everybody. He never even spoke a bad word about my mother when she left or all the years after. It was like he never stopped loving her. He was just waiting for her to find herself and come back home I guess. But she never did. I even caught him setting a plate for her at the table sometimes, especially on the holidays. I like to think it was just his way of wishing that she was happy wherever she was, or whoever she was with. He seemed to always wish her well. I wish I could find a guy like him, but there are none. He was a lot like
you
…” Julie stopped herself.

Charlie was caring like her father. Thoughts began to race through Julie’s head,
I just said I wanted a man like my father. Then I said he was like my father. Oh no, what is he thinking? I hope he doesn’t think I’m saying I want him. But…don’t I?

“I’m sure you will find someone, Juliet,” Charlie said suddenly, breaking the random thoughts racing through her head.

Then they started again,
What does he mean by that? Doesn’t he want me? What’s wrong with me?

“Don’t you want a relationship?” she asked, attempting to glance inside his heart to find any feeling toward her that might be in there.

“A relationship?” he questioned as if he never even thought of it before.

“Oh, I forgot, you’re not even human.” She tried to hide her sarcasm, but couldn’t.

Silence suddenly lingered like a cold wind, every second feeling like an hour, every inch feeling like a mile between them. Julie felt as if he never thought of her in a romantic way at all, but she knew he did, as least at one time. She remembered the way he looked at her on the bus, in the clothing store when she put on that beautiful gown, and from across the tables at coffee shops. Something was there but it seemed uncertain if he would ever acknowledge it. It seemed he had already buried those feelings or maybe he now found her unappealing.

She glanced at a few of the girls walking down the street and felt unattractive as she compared herself to them. They were taller, bustier, wore expensive makeup and jewelry, and dressed as if they knew they were the most beautiful women in the city. Julie’s insecurity flooded to every part of her body and a nervous sadness colored her from the inside out.

The weekend passed by in the usual manner: coffee shops, site seeing, and long walks through the city streets and parks, but the usual laughter on these trips had diminished. Charlie became obsessed with his letters. He had read each and every one of them. While he was determined to mend the broken hearts of others Julie wondered if he would ever help himself. He was so focused on others that he didn’t seem to notice the affection growing right before his eyes.

Monday morning Charlie tried to walk into Mr. Costea’s law firm with a cup of coffee and his own café mocha.

“Good morning,” he said kindly to the doorman.

“I’m sorry,” the doorman replied as he stepped in Charlie’s way. “I was told to not let you in anymore. If you try to enter I am told to call security immediately and have you arrested.”

“I see,” Charlie replied. “Well, my good man, I do not want to be a burden to you. Could you deliver this coffee to Mr. Costea?”

“Yes, I suppose I could do that.”

Charlie handed him the coffee with thoughts of happiness, as if it was a precious vase with a grand elixir in it. “Thank you.”

He watched as the doorman delivered the coffee to the front secretary, who gave the coffee to an intern to take up to Mr. Costea.

Charlie walked away slowly. He looked back up at Mr. Costea’s office window on the fourth floor. The sharply dressed man stood in the window, looking down with a smile on his face. He lifted his coffee as if to toast Charlie, thanking him for it. More like gloating in the fact that Charlie could not deliver it himself.

“So how did it go?” Julie asked when he returned to the room.

“I’ve been banned from the building. I’ve never been banned from a building before. I feel like an outlaw,” he said.

“Well you’ve been arrested for jumping off a building and now you are banned from a law firm, not to mention being responsible for a bus crash. I would say you’re well on your way to becoming an outlaw.” Then she suggested, “Maybe we should spend the day taking a break from all this. Maybe you’ve been working too hard at it.”

“I’m going to go to lunch with Mr. Costea today. Would you mind eating alone?” he asked politely.

“No, that’s fine,” she agreed, trying to hide her feeling of disappointment.

“If I cannot see him at work, then I’ll see him outside of work,” he thought out loud.

“How will you arrange that?” She noticed how obsessed he seemed to be with the matter. She felt neglected.

“I don’t know yet.”  He stared out the window with a puzzled yet serene look upon his face. Charlie remembered the day they met Mr. Costea. It was lunchtime and he went out for coffee, perhaps he would go out for lunch again

“Well, good luck,” Julie said wondering if he even heard her.

Charlie waited outside the law firm, hidden in the café across the street. When Mr. Costea walked out of the building, Charlie began to follow him. Mr. Costea hailed a cab, and when one finally did stop, he hopped in the back seat to find Charlie sitting near the opposite window.

“Oh, not you. As if taking a taxi isn’t bad enough.”

“Mr. Costea, what a coincidence meeting you here. Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

“I’m going to Jim’s Place for lunch and a cocktail,” he answered, seemingly annoyed.

“What another coincidence, that’s where I’m going,” Charlie said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Charlie agreed. “To Jim’s Place, driver,” he said with a smile.

“You don’t like taxis?” Charlie asked.

“They’ll kill ya, you know. If not from hitting you then from the stress of riding in one,” he continued with no consideration for the driver once again. The Arabic man glared through his sunglasses, viewing the sharply dressed man in the back seat of his taxi.

“New York is an interesting city. I like taxis,” Charlie said. Mr. Costea just sat there, staring out the window, joining the conversation with only a grunt or slight head nod.

“I particularly like the park and the coffee shops,” Charlie began to say, doubting that Mr. Costea was even listening.

When they arrived, Mr. Costea pulled out a twenty-dollar bill to pay the driver for the fair and a tip. “Allow me,” Charlie said as he pulled out a wrinkled hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and said to the driver, “Keep the change.”

“Tank you verdy much, tank you,” the driver replied. Mr. Costea was impressed and showed a sudden interest in Charlie. He was now inclined to let him tag along.

“So what do you do for a living?” Mr. Costea said studying Charlie’s plain and inexpensive clothes in a few glances.

“I’m kind of a ‘love expert’,” he said with a chuckle.

“What? Women pay to sleep with
you
?” Mr. Costea laughed. Charlie was delighted to see a smile on his face, even if it was at his expense.

“No, not like that. I help people with their relationships.”

They entered the bar.

“You’re a therapist, or counselor?” When Charlie shook his head no he asked again with doubt, “You’re not a shrink, are you?”

“No, not really. I don’t have a job. I just kind of,” Charlie hesitated, “wander around and help people.”

“So where do you get your money? Did you inherit it?” he asked.

“No. It just comes to me. I don’t really want to talk about money with you, Mr. Costea. You have plenty of money and I have any amount I want at my disposal. Money’s not an issue for either of us, is it? I’m here to help you with something else,” he said as they took a seat in the back corner of Jim’s Place.

“I do not need help with my relationship. My wife and I are fine,” he said.

“What about your son?”

“That’s none of your business,” Mr. Costea said with an angry tone.

“Fair enough,” Charlie agreed.

“How do you know about…”

“MIKE!” a scream suddenly shouted from the entrance door, interrupting the conversation.

“Hey guys,” Mr. Costea said as his friends gathered around the table, giving Charlie strange looks, and assuming he was just another client of his. Mr. Costea was disappointed that they showed up on time. He glared at Charlie’s quiet strangeness, wanting to finish their conversation.

“How’s that law firm treating you? You keeping the criminals on the street for us?” Bob asked jokingly and they all laughed.

“Just doing my job,” Mr. Costea replied.

“You probably got all the cops on your strings by now,” Natt replied.

“I just pay ‘em off and they walk. It’s that simple,” Mr. Costea joked with them. Charlie did not understand. He just laughed along.

“Ah, all you bastards are the same,” Carl added.

“Can I help you boys with something? Do you need menus?” a young pretty waitress asked.

“I’d like a breast and a thigh,” Bob answered.

“I’ll have the other breast and thigh,” Carl added as they laughed at the girl’s expense. She looked at them as dirty old men but played along with a smile, hoping the tip would be worth it. The expensive suits they wore explained that it would be. Charlie noticed that Mr. Costea just smirked to fit in with his friends, but he did not seem to agree with the humor.

“We’ll have a round of shots. Yukon if you have it, and a pitcher of your darkest beer,” Natt ordered.

“Don’t forget one for my friend here,” Mr. Costea said, pointing out Charlie as if knowing the waitress would never have noticed him.

“I don’t drink,” Charlie said, remembering his one and only experience with alcohol a few years ago. They were cold church steps that he woke up on, even when blanketed with the weather section of the newspaper predicting above normal temperatures for that time of year.

“If you’re hanging with me, then you have to have a shot,” Mike Costea said, as if Charlie’s comment about his relationship with his son warranted some kind of payback.

“Well, just one,” Charlie said hoping to have any opportunity to stay with him.

“Who’s this, Mike?” Bob asked, glancing at Charlie.

Mr. Costea did not know what to say. He did not consider Charlie a friend nor did he want to tell them he was following him around to talk about his love life.

“He’s just a ....”

“I work for Mike,” Charlie cut in. “I’m a therapist and we’re helping a mutual client through a near divorce and the loss of their children.”

Mr. Costea turned to Charlie and wondered just how much he knew about him, assuming that the client Charlie was talking about was himself and the lost children were his own.

He probed for more information. “The loss of one child, not
children
!” he said with a tone that stated it was none of his business.

“Two! The loss of two children, right Mike?” Charlie said with confidence. Mr. Costea nervously swallowed and stared at Charlie, knowing that he knew of his broken relationship with his son who was still alive, as well as the son he buried.

The shots came and Charlie reluctantly toasted with the men and drank it up, making a face as if he was in the most excruciating pain. They could tell he was not a drinker.

“How do you know about the state of their second son?” Mr. Costea asked, pretending to talk about a client in front of his friends.

“I know a lot of things you don’t know. I’m a therapist, remember?” Charlie replied. “It’s my business to know all about my clients.”

“Drink your beer ah…” Mr. Costea realizing he did not even know his name if he had told him before.

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Daniels,” he said to the others at the table and everyone laughed. Natt even spilled beer down the front of his expensive suit, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Oh yes, I forgot to introduce you. I’ll order us another round,” Mr. Costea said as he held up the shot glass to the waitress walking by. To Charlie’s regret, the waitress came over and poured them another shot. Charlie tried to hide his glass, but Mr. Costea pointed it out. “Don’t forget my friend Charlie Daniels here. Make his a double.”

“Have you met my friend Jack?” Bob asked Charlie as he ordered a single shot of Jack Daniels.

Several shots and a few beers later they were all laughing at anything anyone said. The young, pretty waitress had more reasons to be annoyed with them each time she delivered a drink. Mr. Costea asked Charlie once again, “So concerning our mutual client, tell me again, how do you know about the second son?” he demanded.

“I know a lot of things you don’t know,” Charlie said with a slurred speech.

“You know more than me?” Mr. Costea doubted him.

“I would prefer to say I have more insight than you,” Charlie said carefully, hesitating to make sure he did not reveal his identity. When Mr. Costea smirked, Charlie added, “But yes, I know more than you also. Much, much more.”

“Tell him something he don’t know,” Carl yelled, edging him on.

“Yeah, school this bastard, Charlie,” Bob yelled with laughter, irritating every other customer in the place but his drunken friends.

“Well,” Charlie said, “Today the world thinks that everything is made of atoms, with a nucleus and protons and electrons flying around them. But there is a vast amount of empty space between the nucleus and its electrons and protons. Even inside the nucleus there is emptiness. You see, beyond atoms and molecules things just really exist as possibilities,” Charlie said this as he waved his hand. “Thought is what gives rise to the things you see. But, ‘Where does thought come from?’ you might ask,” Charlie said, raising his finger. Then he spread his hands out as if pushing two mountains apart and said, “There is emptiness in and around everything, but just because it is empty of matter, it does not mean it is empty of consciousness. Everything arises from the emptiness. In the emptiness there is no
you
and
I
. There is no self and other. In the emptiness from which all things come, we are all
one
,” he said as they looked at him strangely. “But I tell you, it is possible to exist as a self and be aware of the
one
at all times. That is where true love is found. True love is nothing more than the emotional expression of this vast oneness,” Charlie hiccupped and burped at the same time and everyone laughed when they realized he was finished, all except the waitress. She did not understand anything he said but she knew he was not like the others, and she respected him for that.

“Well Charlie Daniels, it’s time for me to get back to work. You take care,” Mr. Costea said as he patted him on the shoulder and walked out with his friends.

The young waitress quickly came over and helped guide Charlie to a seat, then he proceeded to collect her five-dollar tip and clean the mess they left on the table. He noticed the disappointed look on her face and said, “You want a tip?”

She looked at Charlie. He was staggering in his seat as he blurted out. “Find the emptiness and no one will ever hurt you again,” he said as he thought of true love. “At least I don’t think so,” he added as he thought of Julie.

Charlie wished her well. He left her a fifty dollar bill and then fumbled through the doorway onto the street.