Breadcrumbs

Biting off morsels of my pizza slice, I surveyed the evening sky, my insides twisting into anxious knots the longer I chewed. Columns of dark clouds drifted through the vast expanse - eager witnesses to the setting sun, a receding streak of gold, as it splashed generous hues of caramel, scarlet and sapphire across an infinite canopy of gray.

The Low Library Steps were my favorite spot on campus. Ensconced in my preferred corner on the highest stoop, I immersed myself in the grandeur and horticultural beauty surrounding me - the tree-lined, promenade which serenaded visitors to the Columbia University campus with its array of Bloodgood Japanese and Norway maples, and its amber, terracotta tiled walking path; the boxwood hedges framing patches of ornately trimmed, verdant lawns where students basked on balmy days amidst crimson, scarlet autumn leaves; the unceasing hubbub of student life - anxious sprints to a late class, leisurely walks with friends and classmates in between lectures, heated weekend Frisbee games on the South Lawn, and intimate conversations, laughter, meals, and kisses exchanged at countless hours of the day.

On the steps, enveloped in the darkening shadows, I was swept away in the rhythmic current of the masses. I could feel - even if for just a fleeting second - a little less alone.

Anita, we found Gregory.

My heart skipped a beat as I gaped at the words on my cell phone screen. 

It had been a week since his disappearance. A week since I stopped attending classes. I couldn’t function not knowing what had happened to him. I prayed several Rosaries. I sent numerous text messages and phone calls to his now defunct phone. Sometimes, I called just to hear his voice- Hey, it’s Greg. Not around right now. Leave a beep. 

I blamed myself. Could I have done more? What if I hadn’t pushed him away?

I pored over the last message he sent me before his disappearance - dissolving in sobs every time I read it:

I’ll always want to share everything with you, Nia. My happiness...and my fears. I miss you. I’m scared to death that I’ll lose you again. Like in high school. I’m so sorry, Nia. I was such an idiot. I know I don't deserve you, but please promise me that you’ll always be with me. 

 :::::::

I had a crush on him in high school. A serious one. I wrote our names in my diary. I fantasized. Childhood friends turned lovers. Movie gold. 

We attended the prestigious, and very expensive, Dwight School in Manhattan. His parents vouched for my admission and the scholarship I received. 

At the height of my crush, I told my Mom to stop braiding my hair and to make it straight. She refused- “you want all your hair to fall off?” – but I insisted.

When he chose someone else- Junior year- I was crushed. My intuitive Mom - having deduced the reason for my moodiness - cradled me in her arms and gave me the most valuable advice of my life. 

“A man cannot be a pillow for you to lay your head on, Anita. Se onpe woa, enku wo ho. You hear me?”

I nodded my head solemnly.

“Have you even made any other friends at that school?” She asked.

 I shook my head.

“Look here, Anita, why are you always hiding in this boy’s shadow?”

 I glanced at her, my heart racing. Is that what I had been doing this whole time?

“Listen to me,” She spoke to me in Twi, her dark eyes blazing.

“Never change yourself for a boy. Never change yourself for anyone. They are not better than you. All those White kids. And listen carefully. I like Gregory. He’s a nice boy. But you’ve got to get out of his shadow.” 

It was difficult, leaving his shadow. In a world in which I was reminded daily of just how much I stood out, he was my safe haven. And he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. His White girlfriend and his best friend by his side. 

He was clueless. It wasn’t his fault. But deep down, I knew my mother was right. 

I started avoiding him. At first, he fought back. Had he done something wrong? Did I not like him anymore? Did I not like Carole? Why couldn’t I be there for him? Had he not always been there for me?

I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to be a third wheel. 

He got angry. How could I even think for a moment that he would ever reduce me to a third wheel? How could I not know how much he cared about our friendship? How much he cared about me? Clearly, our years-long friendship mattered so little to me. 

I got angry. Why could he not understand where I was coming from? That it wasn’t even about him? That I just needed space- to find my own way?

Life goes on. We made new friends. It was uncomfortable whenever we tried to interact. Our breakup had been too abrupt. And he never left Carole. Ever loyal, he waited until she broke up with him Senior year- as expected. 

 :::::::

He messaged me the first month of Freshman year in the separate colleges we attended, finally bridging the gulf between us. 

It was a bone-chilling message. 

I’ve been hearing voices, Nia. I feel like I’m drowning. I miss you so much. I’m so sorry for everything. 

I called him right away. 

What did he mean by he had been hearing voices?

“I can’t really explain it. But I’m scared.” 

I told him he needed to see a doctor. 

“I’ve got it under control.”

I panicked. “Greg, you NEED to see a doctor.” He assured me he would. 

I called his Mom. She assured me she would take care of it. 

Three days later, he stopped answering my messages.

 :::::::

We sat beneath the hazy rays of the noon sun, waiting for his Dad to bring the car around. He was still wearing his hospital armband around his bandaged wrist: Cooper, Gregory. 

In silence, we watched a flock of pigeons eating breadcrumbs nearby, content with the simple meal and each other’s presence. 

I nudged him – playfully- on the shoulder like we used to do back in elementary school at the playground on a lazy afternoon.

His blue eyes twinkling, he glanced over at me and smiled.