The Invisible Man

That’s the thing about this city... When you’re invisible you see things that other people don’t see. It can make you jaded if you only focus on the negative things around you. Here’s the thing though. When you see things that make your toes curl in horror you look harder for the rainbows.

As I wandered the streets aimlessly, I saw a man and a woman arguing. They didn’t notice me. I stood and watched when he started screaming, spit flying from his mouth, yellowed teeth glaring like fangs. I stood in the open staring as the first punch landed. I could hear her grunt with pain yet she remained silent, staring at him. The push came next. She fell against a rusted out Chevy car, cracking her head on the way down. He kicked her, called her names that would make the Devil himself blush. As she looked up at him with blood pouring down the back of her head, making her blond hair turn a sickly pink color, I saw her lips form the words “I’m sorry”. A solitary tear streaks its way down her cheek as he continues kicking her. Finally, deciding that he’s done with her, he spits on her now still form and swaggers away like he’s the big man on campus. I stand there for a minute waiting for her to move, to twitch. For any sign of life. When I see none of this, I turn and walk away knowing in my heart that there is nothing more that I can do for her.

A little further down the street I come up to a park. The stark contrast between what I just witnessed and the joy at this park is not lost on me. The sun seems brighter, the grass a little greener. Even when the police and ambulance come flying past with lights and sirens I continue to stand and watch the joy here. Listen to the sound of children giggling. Watch them run and play, dodging in and out of the playground equipment without a care in the world, unaware that only a few blocks away a woman is most likely taking her final breath if she hasn’t already. I watch parents and nannies sipping their coffee and visiting, totally unaware of the horrific things that are unfolding in their neighborhood. And I am glad. I’m glad that they are oblivious to the darker side of society. I smile as I continue down the street, lost in my invisible world. I am glad that I don’t exist to these people. I like being a loner.

A few blocks from the park a man sits on a park bench. His forehead rests in the palm of one hand while the other hand holds a paper bag with a bottle neck sticking out of it. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. As I draw up even with him, I can smell that this likely isn’t his first drink of the day. The musty scent of cheap beer wafts off of him and I can almost see the stink lines. I gag a little and stop to observe him from behind. “Why? Why didn’t I tell her? How could I let her die without telling her that I love her?” he moans, a gut wrenching sob escaping his lips. “Why did I have to fight with her before she left for work? I’m sorry Magdalina. I’m sorry that I killed you. I shouldn’t have ever let you drive in the state you were in. I should have stopped you. I’ll never forgive myself!” I stop with my hand hovering above his shoulder, ready to offer comfort. Then I see a cop walking toward the man, honing in on him and the paper bag in his hand. So I turn and walk away, reminding myself that he’s not part of my circus and he’s not my monkey.

I turn the corner and forget about the fighting couple, the children playing, and the mourning man on the bench. I wander aimlessly for hours. Before I know it, it is night and the street lights start flickering on. I pause outside a restaurant where couples are dining at tables for two, candles flickering between them, red checkered tablecloths on the tables. One couple in the middle of the restaurant catches my eye. They are holding hands and smiling at one another across the candlelit table, clearly the only two people in the place in their minds. I smile gently remembering this feeling as if it was just yesterday although in all honesty it has been close to twenty years since I have had that kind of connection with anyone. As I watch the man he removes his hand from hers and stands up. She stares at him in confusion as he pulls something from his pocket and gets down on one knee. As realization dawns on her face her hand comes up to cover her mouth and tears glisten in her eyes. Before he is even finished speaking she is nodding vigorously and I can see her mouth forming the words “yes!! Oh God yes!!” as she leaps from her chair almost knocking it over in her excitement. He beams at her with love and pride evident on his face as everyone around them smiles and applaudes. He slips the ring on her finger and they kiss passionately while everyone around them soaks up the good karma coming from their table.

Watching them, I am taken back to another time, another place. I remember sitting in a similar restaurant with the woman of my dreams. She is breathtaking with her long, auburn hair, her green eyes and her pink, pouty lips. The dress that she is wearing accentuates her toned, tight body. The bodice dips just low enough to show a little cleavage, but not enough to look tacky or slutty. I felt like I was the luckiest man on earth to have her undivided attention. I remember wondering what the hell she was doing here with me when there were so many men in the restaurant that were better looking than me. They all watched her, eager to catch every move she made. Straining to hear every word she said. When I stood up to propose to her, I felt the men in the room hold their breath, not in jealousy, but in anticipation. I could feel them rooting for me. Thinking that if a schmuck like me could land a woman like her, maybe there was hope for them too. I remember time standing still and the world shrinking to just the two of us. I remember her face lighting up with delight, the tears in her eyes. The sound of her voice as she silently cried and nodded, then let out a breathy “yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you!!” I remember exactly how she felt in my arms and the perfume that she was wearing and I smile at the memory, my arms aching to hold her again.

As I slipped the ring on her finger and everyone around us applauded, a man walked into the restaurant. Suddenly it felt as if the air was sucked out of the room and everyone went silent, focusing on him as he pulled out a gun. They knew, WE knew that our lives were about to change forever.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, the man pointing the gun to the room at large, waving it in wild, desperate, arching movements. “Everyone empty your purses and remove your jewelry, cash, and everything else you have that is worth anything!” he yells. Several women scream in fear, scrambling to do as he says. But not my Sadie. No, she stood her ground, looking the gunman in the eye. Refusing to empty her purse or remove the ring I just placed on her finger. I whispered to her, telling her to take it off, that we can get her another ring.

“No Ronald. You bought me THIS ring. And I’m not giving it up because some psycho with a gun thinks he can tell me what to do!” I remember the icy fingers of fear clenching around my heart as he pivoted, turning to point the gun right at her. “Take. It. Off. NOW!!!!” he roared at Sadie, the gun now mere inches from her head. When she still refused, I watched in horror, tears streaming down my face, as he shot Sadie in the forehead. I watched as she fell and twitched, blood spraying everywhere. I watched motionlessly as he removed the ring from her finger before he fled the restaurant. Finally a scream was ripped from my chest as I fell to the floor beside my love, sobbing.

I shake myself back to reality and keep walking. And as I walk, I realize once again, that’s the thing about this city. When you’re invisible no one sees you. No one loves you and no one cares. I arrive at my final destination, step over the railing of the bridge, and jump. Into beautiful oblivion, peace, and the welcoming arms of my love, my life, my Sadie.