Bejee Glassé First Draft 81 I wish I never saw her face. Her stupid, fucking face. The one with the careless eyes and the smile that stopped my respiratory system from working. Lust at first sight. It was 2000 and I had just come back from a four year sentence in the Marines. My parents didn't like how I spent my teen years, reveling in debauchery and self­destructive vices. They said I'd end up like my brother. So the week after I graduated high school, I was off to boot camp. But old habits die hard, so there I was, back home living the same life I lived before I left. ***** It's a warm April morning, about a week before my birthday, and I'm on a bench in Washington

Square Park. I'm with the PBDs­ Park Bench Dwellers­ which is really my brother, Red, and a bunch of his friends. Not even 9AM and we're already halfway fucked up from the Bacardi in Will's book bag. In the midst of laughing at a joke I'm sure would not be funny if we weren't intoxicated, my eyes suddenly fixate on something. Someone. Time slows and wind begins swirling spontaneously. The music which was once pumping out of my boombox warps until my surroundings are in pure silence. I'm positive I'm hallucinating­ there's no way someone can be this gorgeous. I want to say something but between the lump in my throat and my flat out speechlessness, no sound comes out. I have no idea where she's going or coming from, who she is or who she's going to see and if she would even give me the time of day. Which woman would want to talk to a borderline alcoholic who barely takes enough care to properly dress himself? But I can't break my gaze.

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After what seems to be an eternity, I realize I have to say something. Anything. I decide being rejected by this earthbound goddess would be worth the embarrassment. I smooth out my brilliant blue Larry Johnson Knicks jersey, sit down my plastic cup of spirits and swig from a bottle of apple juice to help calm the dryness in my throat. As I stroll over, the voices in my head remind me that I don't know what to say and I've never been adept with the “fairer sex”. Maybe I should just retreat to my cracking green wooden perch of comfort. But I stay the course. “Excuse me...” I fumble the words out unintelligibly. She turns to look at me; my heart stops. Standing 5'3 and smartly dressed, her brown eyes pierce my soul. “Hi” she says with a coy smile. Whew, made it through the first sentence, though inside I'm falling apart. “I'm... you're...” I glance at the bench to see my drunken comrades intently watching, almost bursting from holding in their laughter. “My name is Gio. But everyone calls me G.” Fuck. Why did I say that? That's wasn't smooth. “I mean not really, like only a few people... Like if you knew me from like 94 then...” I'm rambling now. They say liquor is liquid courage, but it really only fuels you to do dumber shit. “Well G, I’m Serena. But nobody calls me S.” I stand silently for a few seconds before I understand her attempt at a joke. “Oh, haha!” I chuckle “I get it. Cuz I said the whole thing... about… being… G” She purses her lips sheepishly, but still beams. She’s either that confident or too self unaware to be embarrassed. “Yeah I know, it was a lame joke. Sorry.” I want to keep momentum; I press on with the conversation. “Nah, it’s cool. So where you heading? I don’t want to make you late or anything.” “Well I wont be late. I left so early ‘cuz I was nervous and I couldn’t sleep last night. I have an interview at Cantor Fitzgerald and I reallyreallyreally need this job. Or else, I’ll have to move back home and I promised myself I wouldn’t. Like, never

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giving my parents that satisfaction.” I start to feel more and more sober as the minutes pass. I have to take my shot. “I know you probably know this, like, hear it a million times a day. But… you’re beautiful. I just want to know if I can see you again. Like, can you walk this way everyday?” She makes the face women make when their guy friend they’re uninterested in asks them out. Fuck. I lost. I can already hear muffled laughter from the bench. “Aww. That’s cute Gio. I’ll tell you what. Let’s exchange numbers and I’ll think about it.” Shit. I definitely wasn’t giving her the number to my parents’ house and Red didn’t have a phone at his place. “I can give you my pager number. Cuz I’m usually in the streets. Like almost always never home.” I give her a special code­ 81. It doesn’t mean anything, I don’t think. She walks away, her slinking figure caressed by her teal skirt suit. I only have one thought. I wanna fuck. But my dream bubble is burst as the bench erupts in raucous uproar. “Yo kid, that’s a bad bitch. How you pull that?!” Will has always been the premier shit talker in the crew. “You told her you was rich or something?” “Don’t doubt my lil’ bro, son. We got the same genetics!” Red, more animated than usual comes to my defense. “Nah, really though, how you scoop that? What you said? You ask her if she got a sister for your brother?” “Chill, chill. You should have stepped up if you wanted her. I’m just tryna drink my ‘cardi.” I have a confidence that’s unshakeable. Smiley lunges, grabbing Will’s bookbag from the ground. “Fuck all that. Ain’t no fun if the homies can’t get none and that’s a two­way street my brother. No sip sip for you.” He says the last part in a his terrible rendition of an Asian woman’s accent. “It’s all good. I’m feeling like it’s bout time I got ghost anyway. I know where to find y’all bums at.” I check my pager one time, preparing to paint the town red.

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Red stands up to give me a dap­hug combination. “Remember young grasshopper: you got the number, you didn’t get the drawers.” He tussles my hair before letting me go. “Tell mommy I said I love her.” ***** April 10th, 2000. I haven’t slept in like, three days. I have nightmares every night and I’m not using alcohol to quell my anxiety. Partially because my parents despise me while drunk and partially because I’m down to my last few dollars until my unemployment check comes through. I am the living dead. Seeking refuge in my parents’ living room watching Seinfeld reruns, I hear the faint ping of my pager. I need a new battery, but like cheap liquor, it has to wait until my pay comes. The number is an unfamiliar one but I scroll through and see “81”. I pep up immediately. If one thing could motivate me, it’s the prospect of pussy. I play it cool though­ take my time walking the ten steps to the phone. My heart sinks into my stomach as the phone rings and rings. And rings. Until I hear a voice; a soft hello. She sounds more enchanting than I remembered. “I didn’t think I would hear from you.” She giggles. “I didn’t want to seem desperate. Besides, I said I’d think about it. But guess what?” “What?” “I got the jahh­ob, I got the jahh­ob! I’m officially a secretary. Excuse me, administrative assistant.” “Congratulations. That’s real good.” My mind flashes to how unproductive my life is­ then just as quickly drops the thought. “Come out with me tonight! I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know too many people here, especially not nice guys like you.”

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“What makes you think I’m a nice guy?” I kick myself before it even finishes coming out of my mouth. “I can sense it. Don’t worry though, it’ll be our little secret.” The blood in my veins grows hot and my skin tenses. The way she says it riles me up. I don’t even know why. “I have some stuff to do. Can we meet around 9?” Mainly, I had to borrow money from Red. “Sure. By the big cube by St. Marks?” “Yeah that’ll work. See you then.” Warmth washes over me. ***** November 15th, 2000. I peruse the racks of clothing, unimpressed by everything. Kelly is a ball of energy bouncing from display to display all with the wide eyed enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. Serena’s birthday is in 4 days and I needed to get her a gift. Well, let me backtrack. The night we went out to dinner I discovered the most enchanting woman I’ll ever meet. She was witty, erudite and everything I’m not. Youthful and almost naive in her optimistic outlook, she brings cheer to my dull existence. I slowly opened up to her, like a flower bud anxious to subside on the warmth of the sun, but afraid of being burned by its rays. We became a couple in mid­May, much to all of PBD’s half­serious disappointment. We grew in the ensuing months, and I started to get my shit together. Serena enrolled me in a photography class as a means to turn my adolescent passion into therapy. Red, in his street legend glory, was fucking this amateur model he met at a club­ Kelly. Kelly let me to take some flicks of her that helped get her some gigs; in return she pushed me into some gigs. So now I got some money in my pocket and my head on straight. See how shit comes together?

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 “Get these!” Kelly is at the jewelry display ogling at a pair of diamond and emerald earrings like curious fish in a fishtank. “Don’t you think that’s a little much? It’s only been a few months. And they probably cost big money.” “Only $649. And c’mon Gio, you know you’re gonna get that staff job at Rolling Stone! Even if you don’t they’re not the last magazine on Earth. Someone else will want you.” She puts her hands on my shoulders as if to shake me. “Splurge a little!” I’m still apprehensive. “I don’t know Kel. Maybe I should get the money before I blow it. I would like to move into my own place.” It’s true. I’m staying between my parents’ and Red’s place on the East side and neither was that comfortable. But the day is breathing down my neck and I’m sure she’ll like them. To the ATM I go. I wish I knew romantic ways. I wish I made reservations at a fine restaurant for us, or had the pull that Red had to walk into one of the city’s hottest establishments and be seated. I wish I could make Serena’s birthday the most special one yet. I wish I knew how to make her feel the way she made me feel. Instead, I’ll be giving her earrings. Valuable, but meaningless. I wonder how I compare in her eyes. Physically valuable; emotionally worthless? I took her to places of ecstasy the handful of times we made love. But she supports me in ways that I doubt I can reciprocate. I know earrings won’t fill the void. *****

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New Year’s Eve, 2000. New Year’s with the Park Bench Dwellers is always an unforgettable story. These are some of the most rambunctious and flat­out wild dudes within the city’s limits and they somehow find ways to top themselves. This year breaks tradition. Red is going to an industry party with Kelly, and even with all his charm and notoriety, his name means nothing to this crowd. She has no intentions of letting PBD fuck up her newfound fame and they would not be allowed in. She doesn’t mind me and Rena coming though, so Red has been calling me all week to tag along. Honestly, I don’t have plans and it won’t hurt to show my face around some people I hope will line my pockets. But I’m still a little apprehensive. Some weeks ago I had a breakdown of sorts. Drowning in rum, I completely lost it. I was depressed and by the time Serena came to my parents’ house to check on me, I’d been locked in my room for days. Things turned ugly and I wound up in the back of an ambulance, strapped down. After some evaluation, I was diagnosed with PTSD. Serena was my rock for those next few weeks, making sure I was taking the proper medications, keeping me company and just being there. Although I’d been on a couple of shoots since, I’m not sure if I can handle a large crowd. She thinks it’ll be a good test. ***** The club is airy, but packed as expected, however the low lights give me a sense of comfort. I spot Red and Kelly sunken in a red suede couch and make a bee­line for them, pulling Serena’s wrist behind me. Not knowing of my meltdown, Kelly offers me a drink from one of the bottles littering the table. Serena declines for both of us and we sit in our reserved, but tight corner. It’s only 11:30 but Red is damn­near passed out­ he couldn’t even stand up to hug me. A group of Kelly’s acquaintances come

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over to hang out and she scoots out of the booth to mingle. “Gio, can you guys keep an eye on him? I have to go talk to a few people.” I nod in response. I feel at peace in our fortress of solitude but notice Serena has a strange glint in her eye. “Guess what?”, she whispers into my ear. “What’s up babe?” I can’t pretend, I’m a little nervous about what she will tell me. “My roommate got a new job and she’s transferring to Seattle.” “That’s crazy. That’s the whole other side of the world.” I babble and trail off, trying to figure out what her point is. “Yeah. I definitely can’t pay that rent on my own.” She pauses. “So how have you been feeling? Better?” “Yeah. Much better. I’m glad to have you there for me.” It’s true. The insecurities I felt at her birthday still lingered and the hospital episode made me feel even more dependent, more exposed to her. I have no idea why she sticks around, but I’m glad she does. “So how would you feel about…” She trails off into silence. “Feel about?” “About us living together?” Her speech quickens as she attempts to reframe her question. “I know it might seem like a lot. Don’t feel pressured or anything. I promise I won’t feel any type of way. Seriously. Promisepromisepromise.” I hadn’t thought about it. Cohabitating would definitely put me at ease­ being near the light and lifesource that keeps my innards from turning to stone. It might also pick at my shortcomings. I’m willing to take the chance though­ if for nothing else, it’ll settle my living situation.

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The crowd starts chanting the countdown to the new year, champagne glasses aloft. Time escaped us. The waitress brings a tray of glasses and this time, I wave the alcohol away. We kiss as the crowd cheers the striking of midnight, agreeing to move in without words. It’s only right that the first page of our new chapter one the first day of the year. ***** April 13th, 2001 I’m partying hard for my birthday. I had my first drink in six months about an hour ago. And the second. We’re two bottles in right now at some strip club on the West Side Highway­ me and Red. Will, Smiley and Marlene are supposed to be meeting us at a rooftop bar a little later. Serena didn’t come out, she has work in the morning. I’m starting to wonder if the spark is still there as we head toward a year together. Is she gonna use what she knows about me against me? I never should have opened up to her. Is this some long con I got myself into? I’m probably not even her type. Red­ king of couch surfing at his flings’ apartments­ still can’t believe we moved in together so quickly. He thinks I’m losing it. I kind of feel the same way. Back to my celebration. ***** June 6th, 2001 I've been at this loft for a few days. I don't even know anymore­ it's all a blur. I came here after the Tunnel on Sunday night with these models I’ve worked with. Some coked up hot shot who throws

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nonstop parties lives here. Or owns it. I look to the left at the heap of bottles I've emptied in the last few days and knock them over trying to find a welcoming corner of liquor. No luck. "Gio." Am I hallucinating? Someone’s calling my name? A faint whisper growing louder, hissing. "Gio. You got to get up." It's Kelly. I didn't even hear the door open when she came in. "Gio get off this couch, let’s go. You don't need to be here.” I groan, moan and roll over. “Is this how you handle your problems?” Her frustrated intensity calms into an understanding tone. “I know it hurts, honey, but you have to keep it together. You'll find more work. I'll help you." My surroundings come into focus. Passed out models, lifeless pretty boys and vain socialites all succumbed to their unfettered desires for drinks, drugs and a good time. The only other motion in the room is a group of three guys inhaling rails of coke and rolling up thin joints. The old me would have fit in here. The old me is here. "What time is it?" I wipe crust from my eyelids. "What day is it?" I pull my pager out of my pocket but the screen gives me no answers­ my battery is dead. "It's Wednesday. C'mon get up. I don't even want to think about what you been doing." I breathe deeply then stand­ wobbly­ and lumber out into the sun’s unrelenting rays behind Kelly. I stop at the bodega next door to buy some batteries for my beeper. No new pages. "We can share a cab halfway. I have a shoot kind of by your apartment." Even if she didn’t, Kelly wasn’t going to let me out of her sight until she knew I was home. I rustle through my pockets and my eyes dart to the ground. I spent my last dollar on the batteries. "It's on me. Don't worry." ***** I walk into my empty home slamming the door shut. I shouldn’t have let myself get this bad. She shouldn’t have let me get this bad. I was brooding the entire cab ride over the fact that Serena hadn’t

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paged me for the 3 days I was missing. Turning on the TV, I plop down on our sofa. At 1:36 in the afternoon there isn’t much to do when you’re unemployed. About an hour later I’m startled by the sound of keys being thrust into the lock. I’m excited to end my lonely spell but still feeling remnants of contempt. “Oh shit, you scared me.” Serena is stunning­ her tanned legs hugged by sheer stockings; a black skirt and silky cream colored blouse with her hair pulled up in a bun and 4­inch black heels with a gold buckle on the toe. “I guess you decided to come home after all.” “It’s not like you missed me.” I turn away from her direction. My focus is on Kristen Shaughnessy. “Of course I missed you! Are you kidding me?” Her voice grows in pitch. “Do you think I’m supposed to wander the streets of New York looking in every crack den and dive bar for you? I have a job, Gio. And if I want to keep it, I can’t indulge in your bullshit.” My bullshit. “My bullshit?” I ask aloud as if me thinking it wasn’t enough. “Yes, look. You lost one magazine. Get over it! You’ll get another one. You’re talented. But you’re also self­destructive. And I won’t allow you to bring me down with you. I love you and I will always be here for you, but I’m not accepting your bullshit.” “You didn’t page me once. And I noticed you’ve been so into this job recently.” “I’m up for a promotion, so yes, I’m very focused on this job. For us. So we can have a better life. So you can chase your dream” Her voice begins to crack, her frustration has her on the verge of tears. I thoughtfully pause. “You fucking your boss?” I ask only to antagonize; part of me just likes to push buttons.

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“Fuck you Gio. You know what, you can go missing for another fucking month. I don’t care anymore. I just hope one day you realize…” My head is still pounding from the liquor binge I’ve been on. I don’t need this shit. I’m bouncing and I don’t know if I’m coming back. My voice explodes as I stand up and cut her off. “I’ll see you later Rena.” I didn’t even ask why she was home early. ***** September 4th, 2000. It’s Labor Day and I’ve been sleeping on Red’s floor for almost the last eight or ten weeks. All of PBD is heading to Brooklyn later for the parade, me included. I’m particularly excited to celebrate the end of Summer, because mine has been horrible. After walking out on Serena I wandered the streets drunk for 2 weeks. I lost a few more magazine accounts due to my negligence which fucked up my money even more. Red graciously took me in and Kel, the ever helpful, is getting me back on track. But I struggled. Hard. With sobriety; with repairing my reputation; with my thoughts; with women. The phone was out of service at Serena’s place and I wouldn’t dare show my face at the apartment. Jealousy and insecurity got the best of me and I made myself look foolish. Needless to say, my Summer had been one of painful growth. While ironing my shirt, I hear the electronic chirping of my pager. I don’t know the number­ must be a misdial. Beep­beep, beep­beep, beep­beep. I check it again. “81”. 81. I rush to the phone. Could it really be her? I dial. Hang up. Breathe deep. What’s the worst that can happen? I dial again. It rings until voicemail. Slumped on the couch, I feel defeated. Was this a cruel joke? Her voice

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sounded angelic on the answering machine though. My chest swelled when I heard it. I stand to finish my ironing job but as I go to toss the phone it rings. “Hello?” “Sorry I couldn’t reach the phone in time. Why didn’t you leave a message?” She’s incredulous. “I don’t know.” “Okay... Well... Hi Gio.” “Hi. Uhh, how have you been? Wait how did you know the number?” “I have this thing called caller ID. I’m sure you and Red are on the cutting edge of technology over there.” Even with catty sarcasm it feels good to talk to Serena. “Anyway, I’ve been great. I got the promotion, so there’s that. And all the new responsibilities that come along with the salary. But…” “But what?” I’m sure she’s going to say she’s pregnant. “I. Missed. You. I still miss you.” It is a wave of relief, knowing she’s hurting as I am. “I miss you too! Wait. What are you doing? Let’s meet. I’ll come see you. Are you still at the old apartment?” The eagerness reverberates through my body. My sweaty palm loses grip on the phone. “I don’t know, G. I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with you. I don’t know where your mind is. I don’t know if you’ll walk out on me again. I just don’t­” “Look Re, let’s just grab dinner or something. No expectations.” Secretly, my mind races thinking of ways to win her trust again. There is a long silence. “If you remember the first place we ever met, I’ll be there at 5. Just to talk.”

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The parade will have to wait. I’m on my way to Washington Square Park. ***** It’s an oddly warm September Tuesday. I don’t want to get out of bed, but I have a shoot at noon and my pager won’t stop going off. I called for Serena to silence it earlier but it doesn’t seem like she’s here. I bury my face in the blanket, inhaling Serena’s leftover essence, give one last exasperated yelp while stretching and roll out of bed. “Tea and waffles.” I say with a smile. I walk to our dining room table where my translucent blue pager vigorously convulses amid a cacophony of artificial noise. “81”. Our code had become sort of an “I love you” which she sent daily. I’d call her once I finished making breakfast. Order has been restored in my life now that we were back together. I never expected to be where I am in life, especially not at 24. And although I’m upset that she went into the office today while she’s supposed to be on vacation, I understand she is as dedicated to her job as she is to me. I pull the lever on the toaster and watch my four discs of nutrition sink into a hot pink light. My water for tea is just cool enough to drink­ I pour it over the teabag and bathe my face in the steam momentarily. Headed to the living room, I want to catch the tail end of Maury. While grabbing the remote, I hear the waffles pop up but sit down to enjoy some tea and turn on the TV. I don’t even hear the cup shatter. I don’t feel the wave of glass that richochets and leaves little cuts on my leg I don’t feel the hot tea burn my feet. I stare at the screen, my eyes glazed from the images. The twin towers engulfed in flames; my city burning scarlet.

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My mind races back to the beeper that was going off incessantly. How I brushed it off. Serena’s office is on the 103rd floor. I grab the house phone and frantically dial her cell number. It goes straight into her voicemail. I dial again. And again. Tears stream down my face. My breakfast sits in the toaster. Worry and sadness fill my gut where hunger once lay. I sit in shock for hours. I wish I never saw that page. I wish I never saw the news that morning. Maybe I'd just think that she left me for someone she met over the summer. Maybe I'd have hope that I'd see her face again. Her face.

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