Alone

From a short story collection: Redemption and Other Love Stories

                                        ALONE
                                        
                                         By Maria R. Burgio

                                        

September 13, 1995
Dear Andrew,
I am afraid for myself. The last time I felt this alone, I wandered into the zoo at Central Park around midnight after I jumped the fence. Funny how the thought of getting caught or eaten by the big cats never even entered my mind. Remember that time we went to the zoo when we were both eight? Wasn�t it third grade or something? Mrs. Costello was paranoid about some kid getting his finger eaten off because he was leaning over trying to get the big cat to eat out of his hand. Nobody does that, for goodness sake, except that flake, Otto whatshisname, Otto Feinenmacher? What a name. I wonder what ever happened to Otto. Is it as bad as what�s happened to us? No, I never held it against you that you almost killed me with the oar as I was drowning in the Central Park pond. It wasn�t your fault that I kept flailing as I went under. Anyway, that Olympic swimmer that just happened to be having his lunch by the pond came in and saved me. Boy, he sure was a ham in front of the newsmen. You think he�d saved the president of the United States. Yeah, I can just hear you now. You think I�m as important as the president, right? The paramedics did the work and I got to have all those visitors when they hospitalized me for three days of observation. They must have thought I drowned on purpose. I would have except that you beat me to it. You know Andrew, watching the skyline around the park from underwater was really eerie. I don�t think I�d like to end my life by drowning, although it was so easy to fall asleep after I went under three times.
I know you don�t agree, but we are being burned by the �gatekeepers.� Yeah, the ones who hire and fire us based on their accounts payable columns in their little black ledgers. They�re out there telling us how to dress, to go to college to get a good job, get married, have kids and then stand on the bread line at welfare. Well, not the bread line, the food stamp lines. What�s in it for people like us? We were young once, innocent even, but now its unbearable to be soooo 30-something and broke. And don�t blame me again for punching my supervisor because he looked at my a*s and asked me if I worked out. It�s none of his business if I work out and if my a*s is big. I was going to ask him if his wife�s a*s was as memorable and then I remembered she got run over by a truck delivering furniture to Walmart�s. A Walmart truck. What a way to go. Isn�t he supposed to be full of grief? She�s only been dead six months. The guy�s got no heart. But who does in this stinking three bar town with only one library and one department store.
Hey Andrew, did you think we were going to be famous one day? Did you think that after we won the spelling bee in fourth grade that somebody in corporate America was going to offer us a job? Us? From East New York full of stinky Jews? I know you don�t want me to say that, after all we�re Jews too and what would our Polish grandmothers say? But I don�t care. I just don�t care if the whole world hears me. I�m sick of groveling to �the man.�
I wish you were here. I�m thinking of ending it.
Heather
September 20, 1995
Dear Heather,
Not again. Every time you lose a bingo game and don�t bring home any prizes, or get your small paycheck you complain that nobody cares about you? You end up in Central Park roaming the big cat area and getting into trouble. Don�t you ever learn? Age is no big deal, we make enough money to pay the bills, and we have our health. What else could a man or a woman want? Hey, I know, you think we would�ve made the best couple, but we tried that already. Remember you were always hurting my feelings when you went to the movies without me and hung out with your artzie-schmanzie friends. What do you think I am a schlemiel? I know art, Heather! I painted those huge billboards above the Hudson River Parkway, remember? That was no easy thing to do. You don�t think that takes artistic ability? Try it sometime and you�ll see. And I kept hounding you about your wearing socks and a sweatshirt to bed. Who needs a woman in a cocoon, for Christ�s sake, I couldn�t decide whether to kiss you or peel you like a banana. The pants, the underpants, the socks, the undershirt�.Geez! No blood! And I was nervous, of course. I thought all your clothes were a way to discourage me from touching you. Romantic, you�re not. It�s better to be best friends. Now we got it all again. We got conversation, caring, a good shoulder to cry on, companionship for the theatre and jazz clubs, we share work stories because we�re in the same store (even though you�re 200 miles away) and we visit when we have a bad cold or flu. Only true friends are not afraid of catching the germs, you know. The others, they don�t care much for sharing germs. But not me and you, Heather. Even our germs get along. How intimate is that??
Now if you�re going to blow your brains out, why, so near your birthday? What do you want, a parade to celebrate your thirty-fifth birthday? You should be happy me and the neighborhood gave you a party under the Brooklyn Bridge with balloons and everything. Remember how beautiful the gifts were wrapped? We drove all the way from my mother�s apartment in East New York in two cars and set up on the pier just to make you happy. Hey, what are friends for?
        I can�t keep doing this, Heather. Don�t make me worry. Write soon.
Your Best Friend,
Andrew

October 25, 1995
Hey Heather,
I haven�t heard from you lately and as I planted the last tomato plant in my indoor garden, I remembered I used to call you �my little tomato pie� after you got burned in Coney Island that summer we tried to date, you know, seriously date. What a mistake that was. Never date your best friend. That�s what I say. We almost ruined a great friendship. Yeah, I got a little jealous when you took up with the guy who delivered the UPS package from your mother in Larchmont. I mean, did you have to sleep with the first guy that came to your door? And the UPS man, for Christ�s sake. Anyway, I knew it was not going to last, he never finished high school and we did. We are different, you and I, we were the top ten seniors and I was voted �the most likely to win a fishing contest.� Boy was I mad that they made a fool of me. I don�t like to fish, they all knew that. Like hell we were going fishing. Where were we going to fish? In Sheepshead Bay? The fish they pull out of there were fresh in the 60s but twenty years later, forget it.
Hey speaking of the 60�s, remember being ten years old and watching your mother go out in a mini-mini-mini skirt. Cripes! I thought her underwear was going to get pulled down over her butt cheeks when she stooped over to get a cigarette that was burning her rug. That sleeze she was dating then, Joe, his eyes fell out of his sockets and into the onion dip, just barely missing his martini. Good thing she never married him and got back together with your dad. They knew how good they really had it after they tried the dating scene for five years. They are a great couple, your mother is high by noon and he�s sloshed! Hey, whatever works, that�s what I always say.
Now, quit the crap about ending it, Heather. I got no patience for that s**t. Write back or I�ll be sending the Big Apple Circus to your house so they can set up their tents in your back yard. The smell of the elephant and horse s**t will revive you, for sure.
Your friend forever,
Andrew

November 18, 1995
Hey Heather,
Now I am worried about you. And I told you not to do that! OK. Maybe I�m not talking about the really important stuff. I know you think I�m insensitive. Sure, you�re going through a lot. But haven�t I been there for you, so you don�t get lonely? To tell you the truth, I was worried that you were going to take an overdose when you turned 30, got that abortion and then lost your job. Being unemployed sucks. And don�t think that being married would have ended all our problems. Why look at the statistics, marriage ruins relationships all the time. Would you be more financially stable? Well, yeah, one of us could always work. Would you be less lonely? Maybe. Only maybe. Because Time magazine says that women think their husbands are lousy at intimacy. I must be normal, hah? Being unemployed and unmarried sound worse than it really is. I can think of worse things, believe me. How about being married and lonely? That�s the killer, huh? Besides, its not you who failed, it�s that there is no place for us, Heather. That�s what my father would say to me. He�d say, Andrew, if you weren�t retarded, you�d have a life. Maybe he�s right. I must be retarded and have no life. All I know is that I worry a lot about you now. I haven�t heard from you since the trees started turning color in New York. I know that up where you are in Woodstock, it gets colder sooner. It�s not as bad as it seems. I�m still here.
Your best friend,
Andrew

November 30, 1995
Dear Andrew,
I thought I should be the first to tell you. Heather fell off her bike and broke her wrist. The ER wanted to put her in the psych ward because she kept insisting that the pack of dogs that got in her way as they hungrily followed a dog in heat were there for a reason. Providence, she called it. She said that to her boss the next day too. He sent her home because she was rude to some customer who called about an even exchange. She told her to shop at Macy�s next time and she�d get better products. Unfortunately, the call was monitored and the PR guy told Mr. Fisher about it. I think she�s losing it. Anybody who tells the boss so much of her private concerns is either looking for sympathy or looking to be fired again. This is her third or fourth job now? She says she�s still scared about being fired last time. So why does she act loony at work, then? She went to work one morning and told her boss that there was nothing to live for, and he asked the company personnel specialist to talk with her. Then she tells the company shrink that she likes being around the big cats at the zoo in Central Park. After the whole story came out, a psychological was ordered and she was sent home on sick leave. What is she looking for, sympathy? See what you can do. She is your friend, do something for Christ�s sake! And do it quick, don�t procrastinate on this one like you do for everything else. The reason why you don�t have a life is because you sit back to watch it go by. You won�t get anything if you risk nothing, son. Is that what you want? A nothing life?
Do the right thing. Now.
Your father

January 2, 1996
Happy New Year, Heather.
I hope you found some happiness this past holiday. My dad was right and I am so glad that I got to you in time. Talking to you on the phone was reassuring. I finally heard your sweet voice again. I forgot how petite you are and how I used to love when we talked every night from our dormitory rooms. The only thing I missed when I dropped out was talking with you for hours and hours about every thing under the sun. Ahh, young love. It didn�t surprise me when you quit too and came back to the Big Apple. Seeing you everyday was like old times. We didn�t fail, we just took another road. So, we tried college and that makes us better than most of our friends. I can sell like the best of them, can�t I? Hey, who sold Vito�s 1958 Cheve, hah? Me. I got him the best deal for it. And who sold your mother�s old bedroom set when she thought she�d divorce you father and couldn�t sleep with another man in �her marriage bed�? Me. Your father was glad that the bed was not desecrated. Nobody knew where the bed ended up, and we�re not telling right? So her arch enemy is sleeping on her bed. What she doesn�t know won�t hurt her.
I find myself talking about senseless topics, Heather, because I don�t want to face the facts. The fact is that I never got up there to see you when I should of. My father warned me that you were at the end of your rope. He called me stupid in his own way. That�s my father for you. You�ve always been scared of one thing. Of being alone. But how come you went so far away from your parents and me. Wasn�t being with me enough? Was I really that bad, other than having almost drowned you by mistake?
Sometimes when I lie awake at night, I figure you left me alone. Who left who, huh? I can�t figure it out. I just know we should know each other now and forever. I haven�t found anyone to take your place. And I never will. What is it that keeps us apart? Are you angry with me? Should we have stayed together? I didn�t know what to do when you cried yourself to sleep at night. I just couldn�t stand it, all the sadness. It was easier to be friends. That�s it, you know, it was just easier. You mean a lot to me and always will. We got too much history together to think of going our separate ways. Besides, how far away are we, what is it, a distance of almost 200 miles?
One last question. Did I disappoint you? What did you want me to be? I just couldn�t figure it out. I know you were discharged before Christmas. I left you alone so you could rest after your ordeal (I hope this doesn�t mean that I left you �alone� alone. There is such a thing as �good alone�). I�m sure you�ve had a lot of time to think in the hospital. Write soon.
Your friend always,
Andrew

February 1, 1996
Dear Andrew,
I waited for my birthday to answer your letter. Yeah, I�ve had time to think. How much can I really tell you in this letter, it�s not as good as talking in person. Why don�t we have it out, once and for all in the flesh (now don�t get scared, I mean this figuratively). How about if I take the afternoon Amtrak to Grand Central? When can you get off work this Saturday? Don�t forget to bring the coat I left in your car last winter on our skiing weekend at Hunter Mountain. Its red, remember? Remember the snow flakes that we caught with our tongues? Did we ever laugh so hard? It was like being kids again. If I don�t hear from you, I�ll see you this Saturday at six at our usual spot on Bleecker and Green Streets.
Heather

February 10, 1996
Dear Andrew,
Just one last note. I was grateful that we talked this past Saturday. A light bulb went on in my head. I�ve always felt like you dump me on busy street corners because you�re afraid. I have always been alone, by myself, in my feelings for you. You�re much safer alone.
I don�t need to be safe like that. I�d rather be with a man who feels whole being together. I can stop myself from drowning now.
Heather