Center

It was almost sundown and everything was pink and gold when the man awoke to find himself on the roof terrace of the abandoned shopping mall. He was sitting on one of several plastic chairs scattered under weather-worn umbrellas in what looked like an outdoors café. It seemed to him that his rise from slumber happened to coincide with the exact time the street lights came on, their tops being visible just beyond a concrete ledge at the edge of the terrace a few feet away from where he was sitting. The automated bulbs came to life with an imperceptible buzz and ding, their light still weak against the setting sun. Or maybe they were lit to begin with and the conveniently timed illumination was nothing but the remnants of a dream.

 He found himself having to will his body into standing up and he did so presently in a swift decisive way as if standing up was an essential part of being completely awake. For some reason he expected some kind of pain but there was only dull numbness covering the lower half of his body. Slowly and deliberately he dragged his feet towards the ledge at the end of the terrace. The concrete elevation was covered in plastic foliage meant to resemble a climbing vine. It ran along the surface of the ledge and hung below it overlooking the street. Placing his hands on the faux creepers he stretched his neck and peered over the edge. The vines plunged into darkness and seemed to come to an end somewhere behind the building’s main marquee sign. From where he was standing he couldn’t see what was on the sign, only the rusted irons faithfully holding it in place on the building’s façade. He seemed to recall it had something to do with stars.

 The building was there ever since he could remember. One of several shopping centers built during the 90s, all donning the same architectural mixture of glazed white concrete, tinted glass and an abundance of indoor plants. This particular one was by far the largest, taking up most of a street block, its rows of glass elevators overlooking the park on the east side and the giant marquee shedding light over one of the town’s main avenues to the south. He didn’t remember visiting much when it was open, nor could he recall the exact time it went out of business, but it was always there, an imposing mass of glass and concrete, standing out a fair amount higher than the buildings around it. He supposed the building’s abandonment came gradually, each clothing store, travel agency or arcade bar closing down one after the other in a game of last man standing, the proprietor of the last remaining open store (maybe it was the café on the roof) having to walk in to work each morning through an empty desolate pyramid of once upon a time thriving commercialism, until the naked mannequins and the crumbling posters of bargain-priced exotic destinations and the silence of the escalators gathering dust were too much and the tomb was sealed, the dereliction complete.

 The sun had set, reduced to a hazy afterglow silhouetting the mountains on the westward horizon and the man turned his back on the streetlights and looked towards the night.

*

 She seemed at home among the mannequins. They were all male ones and they looked pleased to finally have some company. She grabbed a plastic crotch, tilted her head back and with her eyes closed as in erotic ecstasy let out a sigh that echoed through the dark building.

“This is definitely how I want to remember you. I’m taking a picture of this.”

“I thought your phone didn’t have a camera.”

“Well I’m taking a mental picture then.” And he really did. The idea of her ganged up on by plastic men was strangely arousing to him. As long as they were plastic, as long as they weren’t real. He thought of a joke but immediately decided the moment was somehow too precious to cheapen like that. She placed her hands on the mannequin’s chest and pretended to push away in disgust.

“I’ll have you know, my ex is a jealous psychopath! If he finds out, you’re done for mister!” she said with mock indignation while poking the mannequin on the nose. Hearing himself referred to as an ex still carried a punch but he tried to brush through it.

“You heard her pal, back off!” He shoved the doll’s face hard enough to send it crashing to the one behind it. The racket that came from the falling mannequins in such a large empty space seemed to startle her for a moment but she quickly recovered and throwing her head back she laughed a laugh that broke his heart. Pretending to faint she let herself fall into his arms. He wasn’t expecting that and she almost slipped from his hands. She grabbed his neck and hung there a few inches from the ground and a few inches from his face, the smell of cigarettes on her breath, laughing that laugh until he pulled her up and she buried her face in his neck, his jacket muffling her chuckles. She took a deep breath.

“I always liked the smell of this jacket.”

“You mean cigarette smoke and spilled beer?”

“Yes… exactly…”  

 He tried to look into her eyes but she was vaguely staring behind his shoulder, an expression of reminiscence on her face. Thinking back he wasn’t sure she ever met his eyes throughout the whole night. There was always something behind him, next to him, beyond them. The melting ice in her fifth drink, a call to the waiter for the admittedly large bill, a sad looking middle aged woman at the bar fingering her third bowl of peanuts, a pair of red shoes in a store window. Conversely, he couldn’t stop looking at her, as if somehow memorizing every facet of her expressions would keep her with him just a little bit longer, the morning still hours away.

“I wonder if we can get to the roof.” She turned away from him, the moment -like so many others, had passed. “I remember a café my mother used to take me. It had a great view. We drank milkshakes and played I Spy for hours. Ah! I wonder if there’s any alcohol left!” She whispered that last part for some reason.

“I think a ten year old Mojito is the last thing you need right now.”

“I like vintage. What do you think? Elevator, or take the stairs?”

“Well, considering there is no power I don’t think we have much…”

“To the escalator then!”

 The thought of a security guard or any kind of lowlife squatting never crossed his mind. No one would dare intrude. The place was theirs for the night. She was here and he was here and they were here alone. The escalator was gathering dust motionless and although he knew there was no power in the whole building he half expected it to start moving when he stepped on it. She was climbing the steep steps in pairs with childlike giddiness, an impressive feat considering they were both smokers and had a few drinks in them by now, but he didn’t find it hard to keep up.

 Maybe that’s what it’s all about. Put on the golden hat and jump as high as you can.

When they reached the last floor and he felt a bit winded, he knew it was more from excitement than fatigue. She was way ahead of him on the last set of stairs and when he finally stepped over the escalator’s end, he saw her standing with her back to him, her arms crossed, looking out of a glass doorway that lead out to the terrace. He could see the city lights beyond, electrifying her hair. She was glowing.

“It’s locked. So much for that…”

 They could break in somehow, or find something to break the glass with.

 She turned to him with a shrug of resignation. “Screw this. Let’s just go home. I have a plain to catch in the morning.”

 There has to be another way out to the terrace, maybe through one of the stores. They could keep looking for a while longer.

She was a floor below him now.

“Are you coming?”  

END