The Trumpet Man played on the radio.
There’s a sad life worth hearing on the street today. A faceless man in a famous town. There’s only hope for someone who believes in the truth. You can’t make it up, if it’s not almost there.
A knock on the door startled Sara and her pen slid across the page. She decided to ignore it but then it got louder. Bunk, bunk, bunk, BUNK! Slowly, she walked over the hardwood floor towards the door. The pushed up head of a nail tore a hole in her favorite pair of socks. Out the peephole she could see a man’s figure, wearing a guinea-t undershirt and blue trousers. He leaned up against the doorway, head down, short, dark hair parted on the side. She put the chain on the door, then opened it a crack so only her eye was visible.
The guy on the other side confidently put his eye close up to hers. “Hey, what ya playin’ there on the radio. Sounds like a tune I’ve heard before.”
“It’s a Ken Burns Collection.”
“I like what I hear.”
She let the door open a little more so both her eyes showed. And now both his did.
“Say, you gonna open the door. I’m no stranger. I live next door, but I’ve never seen your face before.”
“I’m kind of house sitting for my friend. Or apartment sitting, I guess.”
“That’s a start. Can you open the door so I can see if the rest of your face is as pretty as those eyes?”
Sara couldn’t bring herself to respond or open the door. All she knew about the guy was he listened to jazz. That was a good thing, but there could be some bad things about him too. Weren’t there always?
He put his hands up in the air. “Okay. If I’m making you nervous I’ll go away. Don’t want to scare a girl all by herself. Just wouldn’t be right, know what I’m saying. But I’ll be right next door if you want to get acquainted.”
When he turned around to leave, Sara noticed his broad shoulders and cozy looking arms. The first time she’d been attracted to a real guy since… since she could remember. “Okay.” She unchained the door. She opened it all the way.
“Now that’s more what I was thinking.” He had his hands on his hips and a smile like everybody’s favorite actor. “I’m Alex.”
She placed her hand on top of his and he held it gently.
“This is when you tell me your name.”
Something made her keep her hand in his. “Sorry, Sara.”
“Sara. Well that’s a fine name. And I like your socks.”
She looked down at her feet, toe exposed through a hole. Made her blush.
“Don’t worry about it. These old floors will do that. That’s why I wear myself a pair of slippers. See.” He lifted a leg a little and pointed his slipper at her.
“Oh, that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, well it took about a dozen or so pairs for me to think of a good idea.”
“Really?”
Alex took a step closer. Sara cocked her head back. “Do you always talk so much? I mean, unless it’s just me. But you know this big city can be a little, lonely place for someone apartment sitting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For not having much to say or for being such a swell looking gal.”
Sara had never been called swell looking.
Alex slid between the doorway and Sara, just to take a look into the apartment. “Sounds like a nice riff.”
“What?”
“There you go with those long winded sentences again.”
She put her head down. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever say you’re sorry to me again.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
He put his finger in the air. “Please don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Now say you’re sorry.”
Sara thought for a second, didn’t know she was smiling. “No, I can’t.”
“You’re charming, you know that. In an intriguing sort of way. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“No one’s ever told you that?”
“No.”
Alex leaned up against the door so it opened all the way. “Say, if you’re just hanging out, do you want to smoke some grass. I’m not a pervert or anything.”
“I know you’re not.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
Sara shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you want to smoke? I mean do you smoke? I don’t want to push the stuff on you. That wouldn’t be cool.”
“No, I do want to.”
“Okay, well, leave the door open and I’ll be right back.” He snapped his fingers as if to say, in a second.
“Wait. I’d rather if we did it in your place. Not here.”
“You mean get high right.”
“Yeah.”
“No problem.”
“Let me just grab my keys.”
“My doors open,” Alex said.
Sara got a new pair of socks from the draw and put them on, tossing the others into the corner. She looked in the mirror to see if that pimple was still under her eye. It was. Nothing she could do about it. It hadn’t stopped Alex from telling her she was swell looking, and that made her smile.
She knocked on the door even though it was open.
“Who is it?” He was seated at the typewriter next to the window.
“It’s me, Sara.”
“Little joke.” He turned to face her. “Get in here. Close the door. We don’t want the rest of the building to know we’re getting high. Probably try to crash our party.”
She closed the door behind her and locked it.
He had an old record player on the floor and some albums stacked up next to it. He spread them out. “Some Miles Davis will suit the mood. You like Miles?”
“Of course.”
They sat on the floor next to the record player and passed the joint back and forth until it was gone. The walls were completely blank. Just exposed brick.
Alex leaned back against his hands. His triceps were well defined. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty high.”
“Yeah, me too.” Sara had smoked before, but not often.
He turned up the volume a little. “Yeah, this is a good tune.”
“I like it.”
“You want to dance?”
“Um, I guess, okay. I’m not really good.”
“You don’t have to be.”
They stood up and Alex held her by the hands. She was a little embarrassed because her palms were always sweaty.
His smile was familiar. “You’re hands are soft.” He made sure she was comfortable with him holding her waist while they danced- a slow dance, just moving around over the floor, his chin resting against her head. “You’re hair is so smooth. Smells like spring. It’s nice.” He kissed her on the forehead. She practically fell asleep in his arms. “Do you want to lay down?”
There was just a mattress on the floor in the corner. It was dark outside now. She wanted to but wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. “I don’t want to do anything though.”
“I won’t ask you to.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They laid down on the mattress together, his hand rested on her hip, her hands folded under her cheek. The music was still playing.Alto sax accompanied by piano, a soft combination. Sara watched the only light coming from a small gas lamp by his typewriter. “Are you a writer?”
“That’s what I do.”
After that she watched him fall asleep. Then she fell asleep. When she woke up, Alex was carrying her. Her legs dangled over his arm, her head against his chest and arms around his neck. He put her down in her friend’s bed and kissed her on the cheek. He pulled the comforter up to her neck.
“Where you going?” she asked.
“I like to write at night. It’s quiet. Just me and my typewriter. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I can make you breakfast.”
“No, I’ll bring you breakfast. Do you like bacon and eggs?”
“I like the eggs runny.”
“Runny eggs it is.”
Her eyes fell shut. She tried to open them again but they were too tired. She dreamt that her dog Cassidy had came to see her in the park. Her visions evolved like only a dream can. Each of Cassidy’s movements made her happier and although she knew she was in a dream, still it was all she had left of her dog. She followed him through the park, past the bongos and the Indian sorting feathers on the pavement. They stopped at the corner of 7th and Avenue B, under the lamppost that dripped wax to form the word sad on the sidewalk. She chased the dog through a crowd of strangers applauding them. They ran and everyone clapped and watched her smile and smiled back at her. She ran until Cassidy stopped at a building with thick, cement columns surrounded by pigeons. The pigeons flapped off when they ran up the stairs and in through the double doors. It was pitch black inside. The doors slammed behind her and she awoke in the bed.
Alex was standing over her with two mugs of steaming coffee. He had that glow about him, like a light was always shining above him. Like his eyes were electric. He was wearing an old blue shirt tucked into the same slacks as the day before.
She reached for her coffee. “Hi. Have you been awake all night?”
“I was writing. It’s not the same as being awake.” He picked up her glasses from the night stand. “Are these yours?”
Sara all of a sudden didn’t like the glasses. “Oh yeah. I know they’re kind of big. They’re old. I need new ones.”
“Can you put them on?” He handed them to her.
She took them. “Why?”
“Cause I like them. Put them on, c’mon. If I laugh, it’s only cause you’re cute.”
She pulled her hair back and tied it up by wrapping two pony tails around each other, then slipped the glasses over her eyes. She smiled, thought it might help. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. He made little swirls with his fingers on the comforter covering her legs. Together they drank coffee and ate the eggs off the same plate and shared a fork. Sara felt that kind of feeling you get when you hear a classical guitar. An inner smile. A carousal kind of feeling. A little piece of gram cracker from grandma. A song from the radio, she listened from the back seat of their station wagon and remembered her parents were in love. They found each other. She always knew she’d find him somewhere when she was alone and he was alone and he’d find her.
The days went by like the good days always go by. Easily. She brought him his coffee as he sat before the window, punching the keys on his Underwood. When she squeezed his shoulders he stopped typing so he could touch her. No matter where he touched her it felt good.
When they went outside for walks they buttoned each others coats. Alex’s coat was corduroy brown down to his knees, with sheep’s wool collar. “I’m gonna call you pumpkin because of your jacket,” he told her. “Do you mind if I call you pumpkin?”
“No, I don’t mind. You remind me of a… a, uh…”
He squeezed her cheeks “What do I remind you of?”
“How about a… big… corduroy… jacket.”
He laughed. “That was good. Where did you come up with that?”
Outside the only warmth they could find was in each other’s arms on a bench. She only paid attention to the dogs walking by. The German Shepherds. Bugles. Golden Retrievers. Gray ones. Brown. White and black.
Then the day before the day her friend would come home came. A day she never wanted to come. Sara and Alex lay in the bed together, their legs wrapped up like love making snakes. Noses touched. All day. Night came. Alex slipped out from under the covers.
“Where you going?”
“I just wanted to hear some Jazz. Don’t you?”
“Don’t leave.” She tried to pull his arm but her hand just slid down his wrist and across his hand.
“I won’t leave.”
“Do you promise?”
“Do I have to?”
Alex stood up in the dark and all she could see was the outline of his shoulders and messy hair. She heard the passion of the piano and the heart beat of the bass. When Alex came back to bed he was wearing only his boxer shorts and socks. She threw the comforter back for him to slide underneath and then she swung it back over them. She ran her hand over his chest and his stomach. She wanted to feel every part of his body.
She started to undress herself. “I want to.”
They lay naked together. Alex lifted her glasses from her face and placed them on the night stand.
“So do I.”
She balanced herself on top of him, his hands stroked her neck. Then they were in a place hovering over the whole city. The yellow lights of the buildings grew dimmer, the moonlight faded and then it was just the stars surrounding them. The Earth blended in with the other planets suspended in infinity. A shooting star struck a wall of darkness and exploded like broken glass. Together they created a universe of their own.
Afterwards Sara fell asleep. The double doors slammed again and it went completely dark. She felt Cassidy next to her. She could only hear the pigeons flapping their wings. Couldn’t even see the floor, but she felt the slippery surface beneath her. Drops of water tapped danced. Cassidy began to bark, and then it became distant. She called his name but she couldn’t hear her voice. Like in a dream when you can’t run, she couldn’t walk. The ground started to fall and then there was that feeling of falling, and she fell into a deep, dark puddle of dirty water. Again she yelled for Cassidy, but never did she hear Cassidy. The more she slid along the heavier her clothes got. And it was blood on her clothes and her hands as she pushed on the floor, sliding in it.
And she wrote on a piece paper while she fell from the darkest kind of sky, The weight of the world equals the weight of your promises. Now I believe in a God, so don’t make me question that, otherwise I could end up in hell. Don’t be the Devil, be the weight of the world and promise me that you’ll always be a part of me.
In her dream she felt somebody hold her like she was all that’s left and they told her that no matter when she felt lonely, there was this person inside her that loved her.
A dream came, something normal, like a picnic or a Halloween party. She woke up when the apartment door opened and shut. Her eyes were hard to open and she couldn’t move her legs right away.
It was her friend Thomas with his suitcase and his umbrella. “I’m so wet, it’s disgusting. Oh my god!” He jumped on the bed and shook her. “You sleep naked? Awesome.”
Sara rolled over and faced the wall. She felt the loss immediately. Her hair covered her face. She began to cry.
“Are you okay?” Thomas pushed her hair from her face. “You’re crying. You okay?”
She turned her face into the pillow and pulled the comforter up to her neck. “I had a bad dream.”
“It’s okay honey, you’re alright. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“What was it about?”
“I can’t remember now.”
“That’s sad it made you sad. I was so looking to see you, now I’m sad.” A tear fell from his eye onto the comforter. Sara heard his sniffles. When she turned over he covered his face with his hands. She sat up and put her arms around him and then he put his arms around her.
“It’s okay, I’m not sad anymore,” Sara said.
“I know, but now I am.”
“Don’t be.” She wiped the tears from his cheeks. “It is really good to see you.”
“I know. Are you leaving right away? You can stay.”
“I have to leave today.”
“Okay, well then tell me though, did you have fun? Isn’t it a great neighborhood?”
“Yeah, I had a good time. It was a great experience.”
“You should move here.” He got up and went into the other room.
Sara sat up in the bed and caressed her hand with her other hand, like Alex would have done. “I had fun.”
“Really. Would you think about it? Oh my god, it’s so funny, but the apartment next door is open. They’ve been renovating it. I can find out the rent. It probably won’t be cheap but I can ask the landlord…”
His words faded, then all Sara heard was the song her and Alex danced to that first night. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to sleep again. She wanted to dream again.
Her friend appeared by the bed. He adjusted a cowboy hat on his head. “What do you think? I got it at this awesome store in Dallas. Cool right.”
Sara nodded yes.
“So what? Would you think about moving here. That apartment has been empty for so long. They have it completely gutted now but I’m sure they’ll be finished soon.”
“I don’t know right now. I have a lot to do.”
“This would be such a good place for you to write.”
“I guess.”
“I wish you would stay for a couple of days.”
“I can’t.”
“Well, promise you’ll come back.”
“Promise.”
“So what did you do for two weeks?”
“Not much. Just some writing. Sat in the park.”
“Did you meet anyone? You just hung out by yourself?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Did a lot of writing. I kind of wanted to be alone.”
“How could you not meet anyone, you’re so pretty. Did you go to the café on the corner?”
“A little.”
“I hope you had fun, even though you were all by yourself.”
“It wasn’t lonely though.”
“Well good, I just wanted you to check out the city. It’s never lonely, no matter how lonely you are. That’s how I feel at least.”
“I did. I really like it.”
Sara packed and made sure to get her CD. She hugged her friend good bye and closed the door. She placed her ear against the vacant apartment’s door. She listened for music, or tapping on the keys of the typewriter. Nothing. She tried the door but it was locked. She let go of the doorknob and put her arms through the straps of her rucksack and went down the stairs. She stepped outside onto the street, buttoned her coat up to her neck and pulled her hat down over her ears. She hailed a taxi and told the driver to bring her to Penn Station.
She looked twice when she thought it was Alex waiting on the corner to cross. Then again she thought she saw him going into a bodega. Reading a newspaper on a bench. Carrying grocery bags. Last time she saw him he was on one knee scratching Cassidy’s neck.
