The Escalator Affair

It’s silly I know, but I fell in love with a man on an escalator in Macy’s Department Store, the problem was, I was going up, and he was coming down. As we passed, our eyes met, and Hallelujah Chorus rang in my ears. When I got upstairs, I watched as he got off thinking he would follow me, but all he did was look up with a smile and walk away in a hurry.

That was about fifteen years ago, and of course, I never saw him again. I was eighteen and just starting college.

But my life had to go on. I went to graduate school and majored in journalism then found a great job at a major TV news station where about several years later I found the man I married. He was much older than I, but I was enchanted with him. He was a foreign correspondent who traveled the world and was always somewhere else a few thousand miles away. I saw him mostly on TV standing in front of some earth-shaking news event and sometimes ducking bullets on a front line. Our relationship existed of texting with an occasional call if he was close to a network. 

I suppose I’m proud of him, but that is one reason we don’t have children.

On occasion, probably a seldom occasion, I sit home alone on my window sill after work and look down over Central Park with a cup of coffee in my hand and I reflect on that man I saw going down that Escalator. It’s then that I muse how life would have been with him. Though of course, it’s a moot point as I didn’t know him except for that look in the eye we, or perhaps just me, gave each other. 

Why I think of him, I don’t even know. I don’t even remember what he looked like, and yet, there he was, engraved deep into my subconsciousness. I suppose it’s because I feel lonely sometimes, though Howard, that’s’ my husband’s name, Howard, and I have been married for 8 years we have slept together in the same bed for perhaps a total of six months. 

I could have had plenty of affairs, but that’s not really me. Oh, I have male friends that escort me to dinners, and award shows where I pick up awards for Howard, like four Edward R. Murrow Awards, a Peabody, a Pulitzer and such. All hanging on the wall or standing like little statues on a shelf in his office.

But that’s as far as it goes with my escorts and I am fortunate that no rumors follow me around unless of course they’re hidden in someone’s closet.

However, the news is a busy twenty-four-hour business, there is never a lack of it. Then one day at work while watching Howard streaming live on the monitors in the control room reporting a riot in Baghdad, a bomb goes off right in front of my eyes, and Howard disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

In the end, there was nothing left of Howard to bury but the funeral was large with many people in the business attending. The funeral itself became the news. It wasn’t so much that I lost someone that I loved, I mean, I loved my husband, but in the end, I really didn’t know much about him except he was a great newscaster. The awards on his office wall didn’t do anything to warm my soul. It was like seeing something belonging to a distant relation.

About six months ago, on the 4th of July, some close friends of mine, a vice president and her husband from my TV station, invited me out to their

summer house in the Hamptons.

“You really need to get away for a few days, Dear, take some days off and relax. Hear the ocean instead of cabs honking horns. Stay with us as long

as you like…”

They were right of course. I needed to get away for a while, they said I could stay for a week or more. I would be by myself after they leave Sunday afternoon, but they have some lovely friends next door, a retired couple who live there all year round if I needed some company.

I had no use for strangers for now, but I was polite and thanked them, and I took up their offer. It wasn’t like going to jail. If I didn’t like it, I could always leave and go home. Actually, I thought I’d write a book about Howard and me. On second thought that would be a great title. Howard and Me. Howard was a great personality, and he was known all over the world. Yes, that’s what I would do, maybe even stay there a few weeks.

 Their house was set on the beach overlooking the Atlantic, and for the first time, I slept well. The weekend went fast, we saw a show in East Hampton’s theater and had a barbecue on the beach where I met their neighbors, the Williamson’s with whom I had an immediate rapport even though they were almost twice my age.

Midday Sunday, my friends went back to the City, and I was left alone. I was used to it, so I didn’t mind, anyway it was time I started my book. By the end of the week I wrote at least twenty-thousand words, they just flowed out of me like water into a glass. I was happy, and at the end of the day, Betty Williamson came over and invited me to a small party next evening for just a few dear friends.

“We have a friendly community here, and we get together often in the evenings, especially if there isn’t much going on in town. I won’t take no for an answer so please come about seven. I don’t want to send my husband over to get you…” She smiled.

“Sure, I’d love to,” I said.

Saturday morning I went shopping for a new dress, and some matching sandals then took a nap. I overslept, so I showered quickly then changed into my new dress and sandals. I also took a shawl as I knew the night breezes from the ocean was cool after sunset. I also brought a bottle of wine my friends had in their wine cooler as I didn’t have a chance to get one in town and walked over about a hundred steps towards the Williamson’s house which already was bustling with guests. Small party indeed. They were mostly couples of course but there was a loose woman or so and seemingly a few local men which I hoped weren’t set up for me, but at a closer look, they seemed old enough to be my fathers. 

The talk was mostly high brow, they all seemed a pretty moneyed crowd. New York, Boston, Philadelphia and such. What museum or hospital they should support. What new art galleries opened up locally. Real estate prices in the Hamptons. Were they up or down. Who divorced whom. Who married whom and such.

Since I work in an office at my TV station and am not on the air, nobody really knew me, but because I called the Williamson’s my friends, they assumed I was one of them. In any case, they seemed a nice harmless bunch of opulent folk. 

Nevertheless, it was a pleasant evening, the sky was cloudless, and of course, filled with stars one never sees in New York. You could see lights flickering from a cruise ship in the distance heading out to sea. Soft music from an older era played from some electronic device. People were talking now in a more mellow tone and sitting on beach chairs. Someone build a bonfire in the sand, and some couples sat by it. If I were with someone, it would have been

a romantic evening.

I just walked around in an observant mood, with a drink in my hand taking in the atmosphere, when I saw a lonely figure standing by the surf. I don’t know what possessed me to walk over to him, perhaps he seemed as lonely as I. Nevertheless I stopped a few feet beside him. “A delightful evening…” I said looking up at the starlit sky.

Without turning, he said. “For some people I guess…”

Just what I needed, a party pooper. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you…” I said and started backing away when he turned towards me.

“Oh, please, I’m sorry.” He said. “I thought you were someone else… yes, it is a pleasant evening.” He smiled. It looked friendly. “I thought you were Betty and she sometimes gets a bit under my skin but please don’t say anything to her. She’s my sister in law, and I love her but…” He stopped, raising his shoulders. “Brenton is my oldest brother I just came in from Bel Air for the weekend…” he gave me his hand. “I’m David Williamson.”

Somehow his face looked familiar, but I didn’t know from where. Maybe it was from a TV movie or a Broadway play. I knew he wasn’t an anchorman from anywhere. I would have known our station’s competitors, that was part of my job. 

So we both stood there by the water’s edge looking up at the sky. The milky way was as bright as Macy’s fireworks on the 4th of July. He pointed out some constellations to me and explained how they got their names. He had a marvelous voice. Maybe he did voice-overs, he certainly had the resonance for it. 

Still, there was an undertone of sadness in all he said as if he suffered some distress lately. However, for some reason, I was attracted to this man despite my new widowhood. In the meantime, we just sort of started walking along the water’s edge, nowhere particular, but away from the crowd. We had no reason for doing it, but it just seemed like a natural thing to do. We were quiet for a while just enjoying the mood. We could see lights twinkling in the far distance along the shore, probably from Montauk. A cool breeze swept in from the ocean, and it gave me a chill. David saw it and put his sweater across my back. I said a thank you, and he just smiled, and we went onward.

Some small distance away, people who lived in a house opposite, left some beach chair by the surf and so we sat down facing the swell hugging the shore. I haven’t felt such peace in a long time.

We weren’t really that far away from the party and a soft tune floated across to us, it was a dance tune I hadn’t heard in a long time, but the name escaped me It was very touching. I could just visualize an old movie with an American Pilot dancing with his British girlfriend just before he goes off on a mission in World War II, maybe not to return.

“It’s an old Glen Miller song from the 40s, The Nearness of You,” he said suddenly as if he had read my mind. “Perhaps we should make it our song,” he said looking straight at me. ‘Everyone should have a song that reminds them of good times.” He added pensively.

“…and are these good times?” I asked reflecting his look. “You seemed to be somewhere else when I first saw you.”

David smiled bitterly. “I was. Before…” Then he stopped, leaned back and looked up to the stars. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. I just arrived from California, I’m a scriptwriter and… perhaps I shouldn’t bother you with my problems, Betty told me a little about you losing your husband recently…”

“That was some months ago, I hope yours isn’t that bad.”

“Well, if I were writing a script I’d probably say its worse. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m just a bit upset. Perhaps we should get back, Betty will probably have something to say about us. It’s a small community, and by tomorrow she’ll have us married with a dozen children.”

When we got back, we separated. David was taken away by his brother and Betty took me by the hand. “So, what do you think of David.”

“You tell me about him first,” I said. “Who is he and where did he come from?”

“You like him?”

“He seems nice.”

“His wife divorced him a few months ago. Found herself a Hollywood producer who promised her a starring role in a movie. Probably some sullied porn flick...” That’s as far as she got, for now, a cake was brought out with candles burning.

As it happens, it was David’s Birthday, and by then I couldn’t get back to him without being obvious or pushy. I really didn’t know anyone well, not even Betty so I just stood back and watched the event. I saw David looking at me once, in a sort of familiar way, but it was quick, and his brother started to talk to him again. 

By chance, there was someone from our TV station there and started to talk to me. I couldn’t lose her. We talked about how nice it was out here and then about the station, and I really wasn’t in the mood. I excused myself to go to the ladies' room and didn’t see her afterward. In any case, she had a bit too much to drink, so maybe someone took her home.

As I walked out of the house, I saw David on his cell phone getting a bit annoyed by whoever he was talking too. I didn’t want to look like I’m nosy so I went outside. By now people were leaving so I also left after saying goodnight to the Williamsons. In the morning I thought I’d come back and talk to David.

In my house, I had another glass of wine and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up in the middle of the night after some silly dream about David though I couldn’t really remember what. Then I went upstairs to bed and slept almost till noon.

After a quick breakfast of cereal, I decided to walk over to Betty and thank her for inviting me to the party. Of course, if David were there, I wouldn’t be unhappy. But he wasn’t, she told me. He had to take a quick flight back to

California this morning, but she didn’t elaborate. 

Well, thought I, that was that. No point in getting David’s story if he’s three thousand miles away. So, we talked about the weather and how long I’d be staying and what kind of shopping there is on the Island and who’s my favorite shoe designer and such.

After about half an hour and some coffee, I went back to the house and wondered what I was doing here. 

I tried to start writing again but couldn’t concentrate on David on my mind. I got angry and shut the stupid laptop down. I was here only a few days, and I already wanted to go back home. I was lonely. Betty didn’t even have a goodbye from David for me. Was I just a five minutes distraction for him? I thought I made some impression, but apparently, I didn’t. I guess he had plenty of young starlets who he promised to write into his scripts, waiting for him.

The next day I packed my things and put the laptop deep into my suitcase, there was no point in keeping it out. I thanked Betty and her husband again and left the Hamptons for the City, at least there is much more to do there, and I had some friends whose shoulders I could cry on.

 By the afternoon I was back looking out on Central Park. I called a Chinese place down the block and ordered a steamed vegetable dish with brown rice and ate staring at Columbus’ statue when my cell phone rang. I had left it on the kitchen table and by the time I got to it, whoever called, had hung up with no message and when I looked at the number, I didn’t recognize it. Probably a sales call I thought.

I left half of my dinner uneaten and wondered about my apartment. I wonder why this guy, David, bothered me so much. Something kept nagging me that I knew him from somewhere, but it just stayed hidden. 

I thought of calling my mother but changed my mind. She would ask too many questions that I had no answers for. Nor did I feel like calling any of my friends anymore for the same reason. 

I turned the TV on to my news channel and watched that for a while. I never realized how boring news could sometimes be. Every day it’s the same old stuff. The republicans and the democrats fighting each other. The North Koreans put up another missile that could reach America, they said. The Mayor still can’t get any money for the MTA from the Governor, crime is up 8% …, Its as if I never left. 

I shut the TV off just as a Macy’s commercial came on and then, suddenly, it all came together. Macy’s! Macy’s. How stupid of me not to have recognized him before. Now remembered the look he gave me when he blew out the candles at the party, it was the same look he gave me from the bottom of the escalator.

Is this possible? I mean, it was so long ago I really had forgotten what he looked like.

About fifteen minutes later the phone rang again. It was the same number, and I really didn’t want to answer it, but then I suddenly recognized 213, the

Los Angeles area code and my heart began to beat faster. Could it really be David?

“Hello…” I said nervously.

“…Hi, its David Williamson, we met at my brother’s house the other night in the Hampton’s? I called before, but I guess you weren’t in and I didn’t want to just leave a message. I’m sorry I had to go away so suddenly, I had a problem at home I had to resolve quickly, and now all’s well. 

It occurred to me only about an hour ago, but you probably don’t remember that we actually met some years past, on an escalator, you were going up and I was coming down… and I was late for some meeting and...”