A New York Romance (18 page)

“How did it go with Bob?” Jill asked when Julie arrived at work.

“Interesting,” she replied.

“He is quite eccentric when it comes to his work but I’m confident he’ll help you out.”

However, that was not what Julie had in mind by
interesting.
Bob was eccentric, there was no denying that, but what Julie found interesting was the portrait he painted of her mother. He made her sound like a saint of sorts helping him back on the wagon when he fell off and her impeccable trustworthiness.
Who was this woman?
She was surely not the woman who left her husband and child behind.

They shared more laughter, mostly at Mel’s expense, and when it was time for Jill to leave work she kissed her daughter on the cheek and promised her a hot meal when she came home. As Julie watched her leave she felt the weight of her anger slipping away. She hadn’t felt this much joy since the days with her father. She realized in that moment her entire life had been darkened by the anger she had for her mother. The ability to enjoy whatever life brought her way was hindered by this weight she carried, but now that hindrance was slowly slipping away and the world appeared to be a brighter place with endless opportunity. She felt for a moment that she could even let Charlie go and she would be fine.

“Are you gonna stand in the doorway all day or serve these damn customers?!” Mel yelled at her.

The regulars were there, and a new wave of tourists flooded in. Julie took over her mother’s tables. Turning toward her tables she saw that unfashionable brown corduroy jacket, sitting in the corner booth with an older couple. He had returned and hunted her down at her place of work. An even more exhilarating feeling of excitement rushed through her body. The table belonged to another girl, but Julie went over to offer them more coffee, neglecting her own tables.

“More coffee, sir?” she asked.

He turned. She first noticed the mustache, then the longer, pointier nose. “Thank you,” the stranger said. It wasn’t him. The rush of joy dissipated from her body. She poured the coffee, realizing she was not ready to let go of Charlie yet.

“Bother the customers at your own table,” Mel said in a strange voice, almost as if he was joking around.

Thoughts of Charlie lingered in her mind for the rest of her shift. The feeling of loss arose once again. She hoped one day that she would walk into the diner and he would be sitting there, ready and willing to put his heart on the line for her. But he never was. She remembered how he somehow knew that older couple in love would be at the coffee shop, which was the reason he came to New York in the first place. Surely if he knew strangers would be there at that specific time and day, then he could find her working in a diner day after day.
If he wanted to, that is.

By the end of her shift, Julie had a good pile of tips in her pocket and even Mel seemed in a pleasant mood.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“What do you mean,” Julie responded, unafraid of him that day.

“You didn’t even break anything.”

“Don’t worry, Mel, I’ll break an extra plate for you tomorrow,” she smiled.

“Yeah, get outta here!” he shouted, with a comedic laughter underlying his harsh tone. He began to count the money in the cash register like he did at the end of every shift, as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Julie looked at him and his empty ring finger.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mel?”

“What the hell kinda question is that?” he asked, looking at her as if she had just crossed the no trespassing line.

“I just wondered,” she stated.

“Don’t even think about it,” he huffed. “I got thirty years on you and I wouldn’t want a mother-in-law like yours.”

“Damn, my luck,” she snapped her finger and proceeded to peer into the garbage can.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mel asked, as he noticed Julie pulling out a piece of ham with a napkin.

Julie folded the napkin and slid it into her jacket pocket.

“I’m going to save it for later. See ya, Mel.”

Mel grunted as she let the door close behind her. The dinner crowd was gone, and the sun was beginning to set. Julie watched the tourists roaming about and the regular vagabonds loafing among the doorways. She turned down an alley on the way home and called out, “Here kitty kitty. Here kitty.”

A fluffy black and white cat came running toward her from out of the garbage bin. She pulled the ham out of her pocket.

“You’re so cute. I would take you home with me if I could. Here you go. Don’t be afraid.”

She crouched down and stretched out her arm, holding the piece of ham between her thumb and fingers.

“Come on, kitty.”

The cat approached her with caution, hissed, and would not take the ham until she threw it a few feet out of her reach. The cat grabbed the ham and carried it off before devouring the meat.

“That’s good karma, you know?” a voice suddenly said, startling Julie backwards onto her feet.

She looked over the dimly lit character. He stood on one leg with his other leg propped up against the wall behind him. He wore a strange hat out of the fifties, dressed in dirty, torn clothes, and held a violin in his left hand.

“Don’t be frightened,” the stranger said.

There was a large cat slithering around his down leg.

“Do you live around here? I see you playing your violin on the streets sometimes,” Julie said, just to make conversation and not to appear frightened. But she was. Her voice was shaking too. There was something strange about a homeless man playing a violin. He appeared full of wit, as if he laughed at his own condition on the streets with delight.

“This is not just another violin,” he raised his eyebrows as he said it. The whites of his eyes stuck out in the dim light. “They don’t make violins like this anymore. Mozart used this violin as well as many others. It has great power in it. But no, I am not from around here. I visit from time to time.”

“So you have a home?” Julie asked, not really processing what he said about the violin, worried that her question might have been rude or insulting.

“The world is my home. I think of New York City as a messy closet,” he laughed.

“When did you learn to play?” She slowly backed away, mesmerized by the cat’s eyes that were now shining her way.

“A long, long, long time ago,” he answered in a rustic voice.

“Did you play for an orchestra?” another step back.

“I am my own orchestra,” he said, with a deep laughter that frightened her. He stepped out further into the street light toward her, and Julie saw the lines on his face, the sinister smile, and bright green eyes, almost glowing like the cats next to him. Then he said as he took off his hat and placed it on his chest, “Tonight I will play a melody of love just for you.”

Julie became utterly frightened.

“Well, I better get going,” she uttered, noticing how another cat—tan with green eyes—crept around his worn black boots even as he walked. She noticed another crawling out of the darkness. It was tall and slender, with a large pointed snout and sharply pointed ears. Its eyes were like yellow crystals that seemed to give off their own light. Perhaps Egyptian.

The enigmatic cat leaped onto his right shoulder as he raised the violin to his left. He began playing a soft melody as Julie slipped out onto the main street again. She walked passed the antique shop and café on the next block. Despite the distance she had gone from the alley, she could hear the violin as if standing next to him still.

What is going on?
She felt as if she was being chased by the melody. She hurried home and locked the door behind her, doing her best to leave the eerie feeling on the other side of the door. The music had stopped.

“Hi honey, your home,” her mother said. The smell of a hot meal lingered through the air. “Bob called and told me everything was looking good. He should probably be able to get you an audition very soon.”

“That’s great,” Julie said, still trying to forget about the violin player.

“You don’t sound very excited.”

“I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

“I made you dinner.” But Julie was already down the hall and closed her bedroom door. “Well, goodnight my dear,” Jill whispered.

Julie had thought about turning around to give her mother a goodnight hug, but she didn’t.

She entered her bedroom. The window was wide open. She crawled over her bed and reached out to shut it. She looked over the fire escape and listened for the sound of a violin, only hearing the sounds of paper blowing on the empty street, an empty pop bottle rolling on the sidewalk, distant traffic, and the sound of the neighbor’s television.

She lay down on her bed and remembered the last words the violinist said to her,
Tonight, I will play a melody of love just for you.
She thought of the melody he began to play, the melody that chased her down the street. She thought of Charlie and her mother, and then she let the melody run wild in her head as she fell asleep.

As Julie was drifting off to sleep, Charlie’s plane arrived promptly at JFK airport. He had no bags and requested that the taxi driver bring him directly to a hotel located across the street from the building Mr. Costea worked in. Charlie answered many of the requests that were sent to him from Utah, New Mexico, Florida, and as far away as California, but he never stopped thinking about how he failed Mr. and Mrs. Costea. He also never stopped thinking about Julie. She was always in the back of his mind, lingering like a beautiful flower, lost in a meadow that he somehow hoped he would find again.

As he entered his hotel room, he set the key on the stand. The room was spotless as expected. The beds were neatly made. A few brochures were laid out on the nightstand under the lampshade. The towels were folded and hung in their places. Bars of soap were tightly wrapped in packages. Charlie always stayed in hotels except when he was back home with his parents. He was used to it, but this time, the hotel had a lonely feeling to it. He looked out the window. The streets were unusually bare for New York City. The emptiness of them calmed him, but the feeling of loneliness was still there.

Charlie emptied the pockets of his brown corduroy jacket and pulled out his toothbrush, the only possession he had, and sat on the edge of the bed. The airport had confiscated his tube of toothpaste. He was tired. Even as a god, jetlag took a toll on the human body. After all, he had flown all over the country in the past several months and no place felt like home, not even New York City; the place he spent his most memorable times as a human, wandering the streets with Julie to the coffee shops, plays, symphonies, and parks.

He stared out the window into the sky and thought of her with fondness. He remembered the lovely restaurant, the waiter who served them so kindly, and the chubby gentleman who he had embarrassed in the middle of the street, who was now in love with a beautiful nurse.

Then he remembered the bus crash. The torn metal, shattered glass, and damaged skin flashed through his mind. He felt ashamed. He let go of his concentration for one moment to follow his passion, and for a woman he did not even know. Then what flashed through his mind was her smooth skin, the cascading hair, her eyes, and soft lips. He felt the passion, again reflecting in his racing heartbeat, the rush of blood, the tingling of skin, and twitching muscles. Such damage was caused from this passion being released. The hundreds of lives he affected in that one moment of selfish desire. He concluded that temporary pleasure was so unimportant compared to the eternal love deep below the surface. Pleasure for Charlie was but a distraction to the deeper love he now struggled to abide in, within his human form. Yet, he could not stop thinking of her.

He turned his head and brought his awareness back into the hotel room. There on the desk was a pile of neatly placed brochures. He walked around the bed and turned on the light. He lifted the brochures into the path of the glowing bulb. There was so much to do, but yes, everything would be so much more wonderful with Julie at his side. He quickly shook off the human emotions again and went to bed.

The next morning, Julie walked to work. The air was chilly. The buildings rested like sleeping giants before the morning rush. As the streets began to fill with people, Julie spotted a brown corduroy jacket ahead of her.

Charlie,
she thought to herself.
Who else would dress like that?

She rushed like an impatient New Yorker, weaving in and out of the clustering crowd to get ahead. She lost him then found him again. Her nerves shook and her muscles tightened as she came closer, until she was directly behind him. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, as he seemed unable to hear his name above the screaming horns and chattering people.

He turned to face her. Her heart beat faster. Then a wave of utter disappointment swept through her body when she saw the eyes of a stranger.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, as he stopped to acknowledge her. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

He nodded and turned away. Julie looked around to see where she was, realizing she had walked in the wrong direction for work. This time she hurried once again through the streets for the sake of Mel’s nerves.