Dusk to Dawn

(My notes are in the comments section...thanks for reading!)

I was standing at the edge of the roof. I loved the city from up there. Looking down, I felt très-, uber-, muymuymuy- dynamic. Some might say dramatic. Some might even try to diminish this feeling by making it melo-. Me, I cherished the sweeping feeling. Grandiose is a good word. I felt, somehow, like I was swelling too. Can you swell up as you get swept away? I imagined sheets of rain as I looked down on all the pedestrian streets. This rain swept me away and I was made into tumbling drops, slipping from windows and umbrellas to rush guttered and dirty. At the same time, it swept me up, as if I could leap from path to path in the air until I reached the clouds and perched and peeked out at the coming dawn. I felt porous, a transient vessel in a sea of multitudes that I swept up to hold within me and within me they grew and I grew, and I was no longer one thing but a great many things all tumbling together.

In reality, it wasn’t quite dark yet, closer to dusk than dawn. There was not even a sniff of rain. Rather, the city felt swollen with the heat. The kind of swollen that makes you feel ready to burst, not the kind that makes you feel like you’re Walt Whitman. All this talk about how things feel. My girlfriend always told me I was too sensitive, privileged my feelings too much. Anyhow, it was time to move. I went down from the roof to my apartment. It was weird to have this space that was so much mine, so much hers. Sure, I had a place with some buddies in college. But that was in a context. This was of the great, unutterable con-text. Everything. Everything, and the directions are so much less clear.

I flipped on the iPod, speakers blaring for all of Boston to hear. I smiled as I shaved. I had never thought this was a place I'd be. That sounds trite, but how often are you ever exactly where you planned to be? I was born in small town Oberlin, Ohio and went to college there. Of course I met an East-coast girl. Not the kind of woman I thought I'd ultimately end up with. But there we were, moved in together. At times I felt horribly adult, or horribly domestic(ated). I paused as I brushed my teeth. No time for feelings. The night doesn't stay young forever.



I went into the routine, catching a beat to propel me. "This is that new shit. Keep 'em standing in line. That universal mind control, now move your behind." I danced in my towel, in my mirror, smiling at my silliness. There was a text chirping from my phone. Raphael with the place and time. Perfect. Clothes, cologne, cash, then I was out the door. I caught a Red Line. We were doing this new Thai-fusion place. Another text as I got to Back Bay, "weareunderthecube." I was still unfamiliar with much of the city, unfamiliar with the odd quirks seemingly tucked away. They unfold at a glance, a step in the right direction, an informed text message. Raphi was so on point. He knew where'd I'd get off; I saw the cube right away.

As I came up to the odd statue, a black cube standing on one of its corners and maybe eight feet tall (is it a monument or just art for art's sake?), my friends jumped out from behind it laughing. It looked as if they had been enclosed in it and, because of the way they had scrunched in hiding, it was almost as if something or someone had poured them onto the sidewalk. Something inside me felt like it has started spinning. There were four of them. Raphael, Sophie, Michael, and Moira. We merged, exchanged greetings, then Raphi pointed the way to the restaurant.

It lived up to its billing. It was overpriced and showy, but the atmosphere made up for it. Sipping blue drinks and passing plates around the table, we traded stories of our exploits. Raphi always had some anecdote about the undergrads he "mentors." Sophie would talk about the big businessman whose advances she'd been fending off for weeks. Moira was a painter and told passionate stories about the elementary students she teaches. Michael worked at a marina on the Charles River. He rented out canoes and kayaks at top-shelf fares. My contributions were always meager. I edited a chapter of this manuscript. I wrote the flap copy for that book of photos. They might let me write the captions next week. I attempted to change the subject, but ended up being the butt of their usual ribbing. Maybe it's that Midwest mentality that always kept me backpedaling.

"So Sarah's meeting us at this club?"
"What, she doesn't rush home from work to make mad love to you anymore, Dub?" Sophie was always the most merciless.
"She's meeting us in a couple hours," Raphi said. "Helping some friend from work."
"Don-something. What's he like?"
"Jealous, Dub?" Sophie said.
"What could I possibly have to be jealous of? Sarah and I are incredibly in love."
"I heard she was out all night last week, working with this 'Don' character."
"They had a big deadline. Really. What's he like? I wasn't there when Sarah brought him along the other night."
Sophie was smirking. I hated that. It always felt like she was withholding some vital piece of information. "Oh, he's grand. Positively fabulous. You'll love him."
"Didn't he just break up with his girlfriend?" said Moira.
"Right, now he's putting all the moves on Dub's girl."
"Jesus, Sophie." Michael said.
"Is she bringing him tonight?" Moira asked.
"Yeah, and when she goes home with him, Dub can stay with you."
"Tell me, Sophie, how old is this CEO who's after your tail? Does he have kids? Maybe they know Raphi."
"Maybe. Do you, Raphi? It's been awhile since I've done the father-son thing."

Moira was embarrassed, despite her coming back at Sophie like that. Our friends used to tease that Moira was the perfect girl for me, mostly because she was Irish. I have this minor obsession with my Irish heritage. In high school, I idolized Joyce and picked up the nickname Dublin, which I haven't been able to shake even here. It was awkward because I didn't know Moira all that well. Except for Michael, who was Raphi's childhood friend, we all went to college together. During that time, though, I spent very little time with Sophie or Moira.

The spinning sensation was getting stronger. I probably shouldn't have been drinking, but I ordered a beer before we paid the bill, and Sophie sneered at me. "Neanderthal," she said. I growled and snapped my teeth at her, feeling cagey.

We spilled back out into the Boston night. We walked along the Esplanade for maybe half an hour then jumped on the Green Line heading downtown. We got into the club easily. Sophie knew someone, apparently. All these connections made me feel light-headed. Jumping from place to place, gaining access to events without even seeing the people who make this happen. A city seems filled with the ghosts of people who have passed before.

I was reeling along towards drunk by the time Sarah showed up. The club gave off a subdued effect, fading into the background. It was supposed to be an underwater theme, with translucent walls and bubbles continually rippling towards the ceiling. Light and music filled my consciousness. I was aware of Moira and Sophie sitting near me. Moira was all gesture and incidental contact, a hand placed gently on my arm, a knee resting against mine. Sophie was more overt, leaning over me needlessly and letting her breath play on my cheek, my ear, my neck, trying to talk to me over the music. The five of us moved to dance, though Raphi broke away at the sight of an acquaintance. He returned with Sarah and her friend in tow. Sophie was plastered on me, which wouldn't have happened were I not plastered myself. I almost didn't notice Sarah. I was caught up in the bluish-green light, the pulsing beat, and the way my limbs moved through the air. Sophie had become part of the songs and one with the dance for me.

Sarah didn't hesitate. She whirled me around and guided my arms to her. The room suddenly expanded, swelling to encompass my experience. This was the woman I loved, and here she was, dancing with me. Sophie moved to dance with Sarah's friend, and in the one sober part of my mind I thought, "That worked nicely." As we danced, Sarah became more uninhibited, warming to the beat and the space. She twisted away from me, then back, then away again. She danced away and moved in synch with Sophie for a moment. Another woman pressed up against me. She had short hair, a deceptively feminine figure. The rest were laughing, moving off the dance floor. Was it me, or were they casting their laughter back at me? I tried to step away from the woman, but she stepped right with me. She turned to face me.

"I'm going to go with my friends," I said numbly. She smiled knowingly and took my hand. What was going on? She led me to where my friends were sitting. Sarah stood and said, "Dublin, I see you've met Dawn."