As I turn to walk south, I am sure in my bones that the railings won’t be there. As I walk closer, I think it might be possible that they’ve survived. As I turn and see the Financial Center’s plaza, hurt but still standing, I think it’s very possible, but
still I can’t believe it. Nearer and nearer. I see part of it is blocked off. Then I can see it. Right there. And I am so happy and so sad at the same time. I am exuberant and despondent and utterly, completely beside myself. There they are. And I know it’s ridiculous—with so many dead, so much destroyed that I can feel so much joy over a series of metal letters affixed to a metal railing. Life ends, and life goes on. Words disappear, and words remain. I can stand along the water as an orchestra of wind envelops me. I can feel the same things I used to feel as this happened, and I can feel other things ghostlike beside them. I can look to the skyline, and where I once saw twin towers, I can now see twin lights. I cannot begin to understand how this works.
I write the railing quotes on the back of an envelope, so I will never lose them again.
CITY OF THE WORLD (FOR ALL RACES ARE HERE, ALL THE LANDS OF THE EARTH MAKE CONTRIBUTIONS HERE), CITY OF THE SEA! CITY OF WHARVES AND STORES—CITY OF TALL FACADES OF MARBLE AND IRON! PROUD AND PASSIONATE CITY—METTLESOME, MAD, EXTRAVAGANT CITY!
—WALT WHITMAN
ONE NEED NEVER LEAVE THE CONFINES OF NEW YORK TO GET ALL THE GREENERY ONE WISHES—I CAN’T EVEN ENJOY A BLADE OF GRASS UNLESS I KNOW THERE’S A SUBWAY HANDY OR A RECORD STORE OR SOME OTHER SIGN THAT PEOPLE DO NOT TOTALLY REGRET LIFE.
—FRANK O’HARA
AFTER
(Part Five)
A REUNION
Peter
Even though I know they’ve kept in touch, it doesn’t occur to me that Jasper will be at Claire’s birthday party. But here he is, looking both hot and sheepish when he sees me. Our email exchange trickled to nothing in the fall, and I honestly never thought I’d see him again. Or if I did, I didn’t think it would be like this, with me all nervous and wondering what to do.
Claire must know this, because she comes over and says, “Here, I’ll try to make it less awkward.” And the sweet thing about Claire is that she’s wrong about half the time when it comes to social interactions, but she’s well intentioned and kind-hearted enough that you don’t really mind; if anything, you try to bend the situation to meet her intentions, so she won’t be disappointed.
“I believe you two know each other,” she says, dragging me over.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say.
It’s not like I think of him often. If anything, he’s just this weird romantic-but-not-really footnote to a really big milestone.
He’s just come in, and he hands Claire an elaborately wrapped present.
“You don’t have to open it now,” he says.
“I’m opening it now,” she replies, not tearing into the paper as much as unfolding it. There are many layers—and I realize what he’s done. Each layer is the front page of a Monday newspaper, so with each layer Claire peels back, she’s going back a week. May. April. March.
There’s an envelope at the center—a photo envelope from CVS.
“I didn’t take them myself,” he says. “But one of my friends was here for break, and he took them, and I thought you’d want to have them. To remember.”
The photos are of the lights. Some shaky, some crystal clear. Some up close so you can see every beam, and some from far away—Brooklyn or Jersey—so you see the blue shoot up from the skyline.
“Oh, Jasper,” Claire says, hugging him. And even I want to tell him that he’s done a good job. I doubt she’ll like my birthday present (another mix,
Eighteen Songs for Eighteen Years)
half as much.
More people come in, and Claire needs to be social. Her little brother is answering the door, dressed in a shirt and tie—a regular gentleman, unlike the rest of us.
Why is it so awkward? We shared one night—two, if you count Mitchell’s party. It shouldn’t matter to see him. It should be fine.
“So how’ve you been?” Jasper asks. His hair is a little longer in the front. There’s no reason Claire would’ve told me that.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Good.”
We fall into the usual conversational pattern—he asks me where I’m going in the fall, and I tell him which school, and he says it’s only an hour from his school, and I don’t know what to say to that, so he quickly says he has friends at my school and that they all love it there.
“What are you doing for the summer?” I ask him.
“I’m actually going to Korea for a couple of months,” he tells me. “I’m trying to brush up on my international relations. Plus, my grandmother keeps almost-dying on us, so my mom and I are going to stay with her for a while. I used to dread the three weeks we went in the summer, and now I’m going for nine weeks. Go figure. And what about you? What are you doing this summer?”
I shrug. “Hanging around here mostly. Saying goodbye. Getting ready for school. Claire’s dragging me down to Arkansas to build houses for a week. But other than that, I’m around.”
There’s really no reason for us to still be talking to each other. There are dozens of other people I know here. I could be talking to them. And yet we keep talking. Like there’s a point we need to reach.
“So what else is new?” he asks.
I find myself saying, “I have a boyfriend now.”
He smiles and says, “Of course you do.” Then he adds, “I mean, you should. You’re great boyfriend material.”
“He’s actually the first guy I ever kissed,” I tell him. “Aiden.”
“I bet he has more body hair now,” Jasper says.
“Uh … I guess he does.”
“I’m sorry. That was random. And I haven’t even had a drink yet.”
“No worries.”
Jasper shakes his head. “You’re too forgiving. I still owe you an in-person apology for that awful date.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It was a surreal time. Remember how we kept using that word?
Surreal?
Well, it was. Nobody is accountable for their actions then. And nothing really happened.”
“I know. But still.”
I put my hand on his arm.
“Really,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He looks at me then, and it’s weird, because even though I don’t really know him, I know he’s different now, too. Maybe it’s just because of the things Claire’s told me. Or maybe I can actually see it.
At this point I feel arms snaking around me from behind, then feel a kiss on the side of my neck.
“Hey, boyfriend,” Aiden says.
“Hey, Aiden,” I say.
I make introductions, but I know the introductions are only going to lead to outroductions. Jasper doesn’t want to meet Aiden. Aiden doesn’t want to meet Jasper. And I don’t particularly
want them to meet each other. As soon as the hellos are over, Jasper says he sees Mitchell in the corner, and that he should go say hi.
That’s it. We’re done. He leaves about an hour later. He goes out of his way to say goodbye to me, but it’s just goodbye.
OF COURSE YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND
Jasper
When I said “Of course you do,” I meant this:
Of course you have a boyfriend, because right now my deepest wish is that you don’t have a boyfriend. Because even though I haven’t seen you in almost a year, and even though the last time we were in a room together was one of the most awkward mornings of my life, now that we’re talking again, it feels like we should be talking, it feels like this should be part of something, and maybe it’s because Claire is always telling me how wonderful you are, and maybe it’s because that shirt does something to your eyes, and maybe it’s because when you have a boyfriend, it releases these strange pheromones that unwittingly attract foolish boys like myself. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because even though our first date was one of the biggest messes I’ve been party to, it was also one of the most intense dates I’ve ever been on, and I used to think that it was entirely because of the events of the week, but now I’m wondering if maybe you and I didn’t have something to do with it, too. And maybe it scared me that you were still in high school, but you’re not in high school anymore, and will in fact be within an easy train or bus ride to
my school. And maybe it’s the fact that Claire loves us both, and that we both love Claire, and that even though neither of us will ever be with Claire in a boyfriend way, maybe the fact that we can both be on her wavelength so well means we could be on each other’s wavelength, too. Or maybe I’m just desperate because everybody I meet is either too gloomy or too happy—never a good balance of the two. Maybe it’s because I’m leaving for Korea in three days, and if I’m going to see you again, I know it has to be in the next three days. Or maybe the fact that you have a boyfriend has nothing to do with me. I mean, I know it has nothing to do with me. And I can’t help but wish, in this very specific moment, that it did have something to do with me.
But none of this is what I said next. Instead I went with:
“I mean, you should. You’re great boyfriend material.”
In other words, I kept digging the hole.
GOOD NIGHT (YOUR MORNING)
Jasper
5/31/02
Greetings from JFK. Before I leave the country, I wanted to let you know that it was really good to see you at Claire’s party. Part of me wishes that there would have been a way for us to meet for the first time there. I think we would have had more to talk about if we’d been strangers with a kick-ass wonderful mutual friend.
Plane’s boarding soon. Gotta go.
Take care,
J.
6/29/02
I think my grandmother is addicted to uppers. Or maybe she just spikes her tea with Red Bull. I don’t understand it. From everything my parents told me, I was expecting this frail, sickly woman. But my grandmother is unstoppable. If it weren’t for my internship, I swear she’d be taking me on the town every hour of every day, and most of every night, too. She doesn’t speak more than ten words of English, so all the Korean I’ve been blocking out is coming back again. Every now and then she puts on what I like to call her “Truth Face”—when it appears, I know she’s going to lean over and impart some wisdom to me, usually culled down to a single line. She repeats them a lot. Some have to do with hygiene, which I won’t repeat here (except to say that soap is important, but water is
more
important). Her favorite, though, is this:
The secret to living long is to have something to live for
.
She’s eighty-seven, so I’m guessing this is something she’s put some thought into. Or maybe it’s just something she found on a greeting card and liked. Who knows? The best part is that a lot of the times when she says this, she follows up by telling me she’s happy I’m around. I’m her only grandchild, you know. I feel such responsibility. But that’s okay.
How’s Life After High School?
Take care,
J.
7/25/02
I wish I was building houses right now with you and Claire. I can’t stand the fact that the two of you don’t have email for a week. I know I’m a gazillion miles away, but I miss you. I miss finding your words in my inbox. (No, that’s not a euphemism.)
It’s amazing to live in a divided country. I mean, I’ve heard about it all my life—my dad has relatives that ended up in North Korea while the rest of the family was in South Korea. But I don’t think I really appreciated what it meant until now. I mean, it’s like New York and Connecticut had this huge falling-out and suddenly nobody from Connecticut was allowed to go to New York, and vice versa. It’s one thing to think of it in political terms, as part of the story of the Cold War. But when you start thinking of it in human terms, it blows your mind.
Please thank Claire for teaching me to think in human terms. Although I’m sure she’ll give some of the credit to everyone else.
Yours from far, far away,
J.
8/6/02
I’m sorry to hear about you and Aiden. That’s rough. Even if you wanted it to happen, there’s always the actuality of it happening, which is never entirely what you imagine it will be.
I think my mom and I are both ready to come home. Not only because my grandmother is completely running us ragged, but because it feels like we’ve been living a life separate from our real lives. We actually talked about it last night. She told me how much she missed my father. And it’s strange, because that actually surprised me, since I don’t miss him at all, or at least not that much. But I forget that she has made her life with him, while I’ve moved on to college. And that they probably have a whole separate life to themselves that I rarely see. It’s weird to think about. I found myself telling her how much I missed you and Claire, and how we’ve been writing practically every day. She asked if you were friends from school, and I had to try to explain to her that, no, you’re just these two people I met and kept. I’m not sure she understood, but she might have. Whatever the case, my mom now knows about you. Isn’t it time you told your mother about me? (Just kidding.)