The City's Last Chance

Another Manhattan.

           Rye poured into the cocktail glass. Somehow, it seemed to be trickling in slow motion, like honey. She couldn’t get herself to focus on anything else, so her eyes followed the crimson stream, catlike, until they reached the barman’s rough hand. They flitted to his face, and the barman surveyed her dubiously. Her deep brown eyes were round and lingered hauntingly at every area they encountered. Heavily applied makeup gathered under her weighed down lashes, with brown flakes and champagne shimmers raining down her cheeks, signaling that she’s been out all night. 

           The barman broke eye contact, skillfully added garnish, and slid the drink over to her already extended and clawing hand.

           “You’re cut off after this one, ma’am.”

           Her eyes flashed, though her lips, tinged red from cocktails and incessant biting, lazily sipped her new drink.

           “I’ll just go somewhere else then.”

           The dim bar lighting reflected off her golden dress as she slid off the stool. It caused light spots to waltz around the claustrophobic purple walls. She heard faintly how men leered when the dress hiked a bit too high, and she threw them looks of utter disgust as she pulled it down. This dress had draped her clothes hanger for far too long, so she figured tonight was the night to utilize it, though it caused her inconvenience. Life has been hell recently, so a night out is exactly what I need. This is the city's last chance.

           The most difficult part of pretending (to yourself, because to others it is quite obvious) that you aren’t drunk at all was the walking. The second Katerina rose, the bar began to sharpen and blur as if she was viewing it through the lens of a camera, zooming and adjusting the settings like a beginner photographer. She felt disconnected from her feet, just letting herself float forward and trust that she wouldn’t end up on the ground. 

           She caught her reflection in a cracked mirror. She surveyed the eerie mosaic that reflected back- the pale left arm holding her drink, swaying back and forth offbeat to the loud music, the hair that had long rebelled from the careful shaping of the curling iron, and the cracked lips that left a trace of red on the rim of the cocktail glass. The glass’s contents were emptied quickly, racing through her bloodstream and thereby adding another coat to the drunken delusion on that mirror. She lazily wiped some glitter from her cheek and lifted her face to see the highlights of her cheekbone glimmer from sweat.

           I look so good. If only he was here to see. 

           Katerina set the glass down on a dingy silver table with an air of finality and sauntered out of the bar. Ah, New York City.

           Cool summer wind twirled around the walls of towering skyscrapers, gently raising the ends of Katerina’s hair and cupping it in its palms. Arrays of lights flickered and shone on building walls, traffic lights, billboards, taxi headlights, and people’s loudly ringing cellphones. Even as intoxicated as Katerina was, she took a second to look up at the skyscrapers that rose around her like pieces on a chessboard for giants, and focused her glazed eyes on the outline the buildings made with the sky. She turned slowly around the axis of her chipping heels, following the horizon that wasn’t with the sea, but the one that New York city drew with its own hands. A dark indigo sky, stars long covered by industry and hidden from mortals, draped the corners of Manhattan. Katerina remembered how she used to think, ever since she was born here, that standing in any part of this city and looking up made it feel like it was just you for a second, closed off from everything else by structures, and it brought back that soaring feeling that everyone talks about when they step off the train into Manhattan for the first time.

           And thinking about it further awed her every time. Katerina remembered when she was first allowed to walk around here alone, just a young teenager. She was going down metal stairs down into the subway, making sure to not go too slow or too fast, and was struck by how she was just one girl within rows and rows of busy streets, in one of the biggest cities in the world. And that first fascination still arose from time to time, like the delicious whiff of the occasional pretzel stand.

           Katerina blinked and someone bumped into her roughly, breaking her from her trance. She glared at whoever it was, shook her head, and started forward.

           The lights are so bright. She watched cars screech as a traffic light in front of her flashed yellow. Something flashed in her memory.

The Broadway theater, when Katerina and him saw a show for the first time.

 The lights had been turned on and off really abruptly, leaving fidgeting purple circles in her vision. He had put his arm around her for the first time. The first of anyone. She remembered the electricity that sparked in her chest.

           Sounds began to clash into each other like the soundtrack at a bar with an overexcited DJ. Cars beeped loudly and billboards spoke on top of each other, voices booming and teeth shining. Some celebrity with curly brown hair popped onto one of the screens and Katerina stumbled again, cursing at her shoes. They look so alike.

           Her nails were painted an emerald green that day. They were at his house, and he was laying in bed as she twirled his curls around her fingers, careful not to pull and disturb his sleep. She watched her hand, in disbelief that she got so lucky. His eyelashes cast beautiful shadows on his cheeks.

           A woman in a red jacket passed by Katerina, talking loudly on the phone. It looked like she was having an argument.

           Katerina’s hand was white and shook as it grasped the metal pole of the subway. Whether it was from the relentless shaking of the train or from fear, she refused to admit. She spoke on the phone desperately as the signal dwindled away. Their first fight. Or, as she referred to it to friends, just a stupid debacle.

           A neon sign proclaimed that it served the best bagels in New York. Katerina shook her head and knew it was wrong.

           The morning after that day, they went to get bagels on 30^th Avenue. They didn’t mention the past night, or how he had never responded to her call or texts or listened. All that happened was that she lifted her head from a salty pillow the next morning and asked him how he was. He said he wanted to get bagels.

           Bagels were their favorite. The sun had just risen, casting a pink glow over their favorite café- the true best bagels in New York. His emerald green eyes glinted and he softly pulled her waist closer to him as she smothered cream cheese on with a weak plastic knife. And so Kat’s heart unclenched, and the last night faded away like a bad dream.

           A taxi beeped loudly on the freeway. Katerina remembered a night in October.

           They were going to a party in a taxi overwhelmed by fresheners smelling of “ocean breeze”. Taylor Swift was playing on the radio. Katerina was wearing a dress he liked. But his responses that day were curt, his voice quiet, expression barely wavering when Katerina kissed him on the cheek. He said everything was fine. Katerina looked up at him and knew it wasn’t.

           Their friends said Katerina had a distracted look about her that day as she took cocktails off trays and spoke to guests, seeming to move in slow motion. He put his arm around her when people were around, pulling her close. She watched their reflection in a full-length mirror across the room and smiled. He buried his nose in her hair. They looked so whole, so happy. Their friends all squealed, exclaiming how cute they were together. He thanked them in response, his voice smooth and well-spoken, the type she could listen to all day. But it was so loud, so crowded, if only she could have a moment to think…

           Every time the music stopped for a split second to play some other generic Top 100 song, every time a chattering drunk acquaintance took a breath, every time Katerina was alone, her mind raced. With her freshly painted black nails she dug through her memories to figure out what she did wrong this time. She had been so careful to avoid him getting like this, there couldn’t be any reason…

           By the time the party was over and people were leaving in pairs of drunk and drunker, she had thought of about a million.

           Katerina heard a song by her favorite band playing at a nearby overpriced but aesthetic boutique. She had seen that band play multiple times at Madison Square Garden, which to this day she considered one of the most beautiful places she’s ever been. She remembered going there with her parents when she was younger, and with him when she was older… They held up their phone flashlights and sang loudly with thousands of fellow people, feeling immortal. The band threw a rose into the audience, and he caught it for her…

           All she could do was stare at the roses wilting on their bedside table, a weak reminder of their magical date just a week before. They had just come home from the October party. Her friends had always said she was a tough person to argue with, but with him, she never seemed to be able to.

           His long eyelashes cast shadows under his eyes. She winced at every insult, blinked faster as he spoke. He had a million and a half reasons, ones that she’d never even considered. Thoughts raced in her mind, faint memories of her friend once telling her that she has to stand up for herself. But he was right, because how could he be wrong?

           A building with golden door handles glinted in front of Katerina, rising into the sky. It looked really similar to a building she used to visit all the time.

           He worked on the 14^th floor, the same date as their anniversary. He would buzz her up and she would go to lean over the back of his shoulders while he sat as his computer, his coworkers cooing. She loved hearing him talk about how passionate he was about his work. It was his purpose, his escape.

           His escape in that he stopped responding to her pleas to come to a compromise. His escape in that he left for work one day, and never came back to the cup of jasmine tea that she had waiting for him. And when she walked to the golden handles three days after he left, balancing her purse, coffee, and jumbled thoughts in her hands, cracked and freezing from the New York wind, he didn’t buzz her up. His escape in that since that day, he had been gone as swiftly as the roses on her nightstand wilted.

           A city bus rolled down the road. The night allowed anyone to look inside and observe tired New Yorkers leaning against handles and poles on their way home from work. It was heading towards a bus stop. Katerina hurried across the road to get closer to another bar. I need another drink.

           They were sitting at one of these bus stops- sometime before October. He kissed her, his hands pulling her closer by the sleeves of her puffy gray jacket. True, their surroundings were spit out gum, advertisements, people, and the edges of the grimy bus stop bench, but it felt like they were the only ones in the world.

           They were just arguments, that’s all. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices and change if the most important person in the world tells you to, because if you don’t, you wouldn’t be able to kiss at the blue bus stop while onlookers whistled obnoxiously. Without those nights, you’d be in pain, surely…

           A huge blow ripped into Katerina’s left side. She heard a screech of brakes, car honks, and curses. She looked up at the belly of a city bus, headlights looming above her like two angry eyes.

           The driver ran out, checked her pulse, and sighed in relief. “Ma’am, you’re going to be okay, the bus wasn’t going too fast, may just be a couple broken ribs. We’re calling the police now, stay with us!”

           Katerina shrugged weakly and tried pulling down her dress so she wouldn’t be exposed again, groaning in pain. She watched through blurring eyes as more people exited the bus.

           A nearby streetlight backlit their silhouettes as they hopped off the bus, probably staring at her in disbelief. A short womanly figure with a huge bag, a tall salesman with slicked hair, and someone with curly brown hair, the ends of which were highlighted by the streetlight like a swirled halo.

           She saw him halt and her arms began to shake. She pinned them down behind her back. Oh my god. No.

           A voice, smooth and well-spoken, pierced the shocked murmurs.

           “Jesus, Kat!”

           Katerina blinked and saw him lean over her, his work badge, with his name and the words 14^th floor dangling from his neck.

           Katerina’s eyes flashed. She smiled at him, the unmistakable taste of metal on her tongue.

           “Do you like my dress?”

           He stared at her in shock, not able to muster a response. Katerina closed her eyes again and relaxed on the rough cement.

           Oh, New York, you've managed to disappoint me again.