Prologue

The sound of the water had not changed. After all these years, after everything that had happened, the sound of the water from this spot on the Brooklyn Bridge had not changed. I stood there, in the cool breeze, remembering the young man that looked out at this view for the very first time. The man who had his very outlook on life changed by a girl, like so many men before him. Even now, I am not the man I was that night. For time can buff out change, though like sand against a rock, a few grains will always remain. I can pinpoint the exact moment when I knew what I wanted in life. I was thirteen, and my family was still whole. The hand of life had not yet slapped me with reality. My father came home from work that night, smiling and full of life, the way he always seemed to be, despite the cutthroat business world he dominated. His suit was structured and perfectly fitted, his dark hair neatly cut. My mother floated over to him, leaning up and kissing him quickly. She was petite, only reaching the top of his chest. Unlike some couples in the rich area of Manhattan we inhabited, they were still very much in love. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, a place mat underneath my homework so I wouldn’t scratch the wood. Evening light streamed in through our large picture windows, and the light floral of my mothers perfume lingered beside me. This life of love, success, knowing who you are and where you belonged. This is what I wanted. My mother always used to tell me, “be grateful for what you have, not everyone lives the way we do,” as she clasped the necklace she only wore to important parties. The diamonds would drape delicately across her collarbones and my father would stand beside her, adjusting his tie and brushing back his hair. I never fully understood what she meant. To me, this was how life should be. It was not until I met her, that last year of university, when I began to understand the message my mother had always tried to imprint on me. It was not until I saw life from her eyes that I discovered a startling truth. The perfect life I had grown up in may not have been so perfect. I had spent my entire life being comfortable and happy. Meeting her taught me that contentment and happiness are not the same thing. It was not until that night with her, standing on the bridge looking out at the city, when everything I wanted in life was no longer quite the same.

Chapter 1:

“What is this place?” James asked, as we entered the bar. The walls were dark green, and old leather booths lined the walls. “It’s not that bad,” I replied. The dim lighting made it hard to see, which was probably a good thing. The bar was an old, Irish style pub that we had heard about from some of the guys in our business class. According to them, the atmosphere left something to be desired, but the beer was cheap, and the music decent. “I was expecting something less…. sticky.” Nolan quipped, peeling his shoe off the floor to prove his point. “Come on guys, we’re already here, mind as well give it a chance.” I walked over to the bar and gently sat down on one of the flimsy stools. The bartender was an older

man, with graying hair and a wrinkled shirt. It was a stark contrast from the neatly cut hair, crisp polo shirts, and perfectly tailored jeans that my friends and I all sported. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he came over to us, clearly expecting to be met with arrogance.“Hello, can we please get four draught beers?” James asked. The bartended raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. I assumed he often saw some of the richer guys we grew up with. The guys who chose to flaunt their money in front of others, uncaring as to how they were perceived.

It’s not as if I didn’t have money also, we all did. My friends and I had grown up together, attending private school and our mother’s society galas. We were never quite as rich as the others however, not to the point of being able to do whatever we wanted. As my mother had always told me, the greatest currency is a good reputation.

The bartended brought over our beer, and James tossed some rolled up bills onto the counter. We walked over to one of the worn booths and piled in. As we did, someone tapped on the microphone at the front of the bar. There was a low, wooden stage, and standing there with a beat up electric guitar was a girl that looked our age, about twenty years old. She had curly dark hair, and olive toned skin. She tapped a few more times on the microphone, and then leaned towards it.“Hello everyone, my name is Hadlee. I’m a musician and song writer, and I will be playing for you all tonight.” Her worn out combat boots began tapping the ground, and she struck a few chords on her guitar.

She started to play, and the song was incredible. It was a blend of old and new rock, her fingers dancing across the guitar, making it look effortless. I listened intently, impressed that she had made this. “What about you? Declan? Hey, Dec, you listening?”“What?” I turned to look at Nolan. “Sorry man, I didn’t hear any of that.”“I asked if you had finished that paper for statistic analytics yet.”“Oh, no, not yet,” I told him.

We continued sitting there, sipping our beer until the music set was over. As Hadlee was putting away her guitar, we wandered back over to the bar, in search of another drink. When the bartender brought our drinks over, he pulled out a bottle of Corona and cracked it open. I looked beside me and saw Hadlee, who I hadn’t noticed come over. The man slid it to her. “On the house,” he smiled. “Just because you’re my favorite musician.”“Thanks Hal,” she grinned, taking a sip of the beer.“Hey, that was really good,” I told her, nodding towards the stage.“You think?” She titled her head at me, genuinely wondering. “Yeah, it was like classic rock meets Nirvana. If that makes sense, I don’t know, but it was cool.” She laughed, her green eyes lighting up. “I’ve never heard that one before, but I kinda like it.”“Honestly, I thought you were going to play something a little more…intense,” I admitted, eyeing her ripped jeans and the band t-shirt that fell off her shoulder. “Most people do.” She shrugged. “So, how did you start?” I asked. “Playing guitar.”

“My dad,” she smiled. “He’s a musician. When I was a kid, I got to travel with him when he toured. It kind of got me into the music scene.”“What band?” I asked.“You probably wouldn’t know it. They mostly play small shows at bars. Rock music, a little more Nirvana than what I played,” she smirked at me, then laughed. “Are you in school?”“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m taking business at NYU.”“Really? I’m in the music program there.”“They teach rock music?” “No,” she laughed, “I’m there for the piano, on a scholarship.”“Rock star and pianist?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “I’m impressed.”“Why thank you,” she laughed again, “It’s good to know I already have a fan.”“Don’t expect me to go on tour as a groupie or anything,” I warned.“Too delicate for the rock scene?” She mocked.“Oh definitely. See this face? Much too fragile.”“Well, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”“I’m glad you agree,” I laughed, and soon she joined in. “Hey, Declan, we’re heading out,” Nolan called to me as he drained the last of his beer. “You coming?”“Yeah,” I called back. “I’ll be right there. So,” I turned back to Hadlee. “Looks like my time here is up.”“Wouldn’t want to lose the sailing club over there,” she eyed my friends and their similar attire. “You know,” I said, grabbing my jacket, “sailing is pretty fun if you give it a chance.”She laughed, tipping her head in acknowledgement as I left the bar.

“So who was that?” James poked me in the rib, tilting his head back toward the building. “Hadlee? Just a girl from our school.” I shrugged at him.“Right,” Nolan quipped. “Just a girl.”“Guys, relax, it was just a conversation about music. Do you really see that happening? Me and her?”“He’s right,” laughed Nolan, “we’ve never even seen her before. Clearly, our social circles don’t run in the same direction.”I tried to imagine Hadlee among my friends, and I couldn’t. The parties, the galas, the weekend beach trips, she was so different from all of my friends that I could not even imagine them interacting. I wasn’t even sure how we had talked for so long. How we had anything in common to talk about. I remembered her joke about the sailing club. Is that really all she thought of us? Is that what she thought of me?

The thought stayed with me for the rest of the night. I had never really considered it before, what other people thought of my friends and I. I had never really cared. I was proud of who I was and the life that I lived. I was telling the truth when I said that sailing was fun, defending myself from a joke that deep down I knew wasn’t entirely light hearted. What I didn’t know, is if she saw me the same way she saw them. Why wouldn’t she? I was exactly like them, and to me, that would never be a bad thing.

Chapter 2:I pushed through the crowd of people, trying to get to the right platform. The

subway was always busy, especially at this time of night, when everyone was going home from work and school. I got to the car just as the doors were about to close, and wedged myself inside. I could smell the sweat and cheap cologne of the people next to me as we bumped into each other. Everyday I took the subway home from school, and it was always crowded, noisy, and incredibly irritating.

My backpack, filled with textbooks and my computer, weighed me down. It only made the trip harder. I could have lived in residence, but it seemed pointless to pay for housing when I lived in the city. The social aspect wasn’t a problem either, as my best friends were attending NYU as well. We all took business together, just as our fathers had. It was no secret we would all end up like our fathers. We knew it, our mothers knew it, and our parent’s business partners knew it. It was the goal we had strived for since childhood, and with each passing day we achieved more of it.

The subway raced down the tracks, and I shifted uncomfortably. A man yelled angrily into his cell phone beside me, and as I turned away from him, I caught a flash of curly hair. I shifted forward even more, and saw her leaning against the opposite wall.

“Hadlee?”She glanced up, and smiled when she saw me. “Declan, hey!”“I’ve never seen you here before,” I told her as she dodged a child making her

way closer to me. “On the subway?” She laughed, “I usually stay at the school to practice and

take a later one.” “Family doesn’t like listening?” I asked.“No, they do, but my mom teaches piano, and it interferes with her lessons.”“Is that where you learned to play?”“Yeah, it is,” she smiled at me. “So, what are your plans this weekend?”“Oh you know, maybe a bit of sailing if the weathers nice.”She laughed, and grinned at me. “Ok, ok, I get it, sailing isn’t a bad thing.”“Thank you,” I laughed. “But really, my weekend plans will probably involve

one of my mothers dinner parties.”“Is that a good thing?”“Sometimes. Usually it’s fairly boring.”“Well, if you want a change of scenery, the Grand Central Fall Fest is this

weekend.”“I haven’t been to that in years,” I replied.“Well, let’s go then. It’ll be fun.”“Alright, why not?”“That’s the spirit,” She lightly punched my arm. “I’ll meet you on Third at

noon, this Saturday.”“I’ll be there.”The subway came to a stop at a terminal in Brooklyn, and she turned towards

the door. “This is my stop, see you at the festival!”“See you,” I called after her.

I still had a ways to go until my stop in Manhattan, so I tucked myself against the wall, where I could avoid being bumped and hassled by the mass of people standing hip to hip. The decision to go to the fair had been instant, and I wasn’t sure how it would go. It wasn’t a date, we were just friends, but would everyone see it that way? Hadlee wasn’t typically the kind of friend I had. She was loud, outgoing, and fearless. My friends were reserved, and cautious of their reputations. We went to parties, but would never be the guy that’s still there at five in the morning. Hadlee was unpredictable, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t scare me.

I walked into the apartment thirty minutes later and kicked off my shoes. The large picture windows lit up the white furniture that was perfectly positioned throughout the space.

“Declan? Is that you?” My mother walked into the living room, her heels clicking against the hardwood.

“Hey mom.”“How was school?” She smiled at me and her sharp features softened. “It was fine. I made plans to go to a festival this weekend.”“Really? With whom?” Her eyebrow rose slightly.“Just a friend of mine.”“Nolan? James?”“Uh, no. A new friend.”“New? What’s his name?”“Actually it’s a girl. Her name is Hadlee.”My mother’s lips pursed slightly in annoyance and she regarded me

suspiciously. “This girl. What is she like?”“She’s just a friend mom.”“This is college Declan. No girl is just a friend.”“Well, this one is.”She sighed, tapping her fingers against the coffee table.“Well have fun then. It has been awhile since you went to any festival.”“Yeah, I think it will be fun.” “I’m just heading out so I’ll see you later tonight.”“Society meeting?”“Yes, we’re going to discuss fundraising.” She took her purse from its hook

inside the closet and nodded good-bye to me as she left. I wandered into the living room and collapsed onto the thick white couch,

knocking off an array of throw pillows as I did so. I would have to put them back before my mother got home I thought to myself as I flicked on the TV. Changing the channel to Suits, I relaxed in the soft cushions and found that I could almost forget Hadlee and our encounter that day. I could almost forget the twinge of nerves that I had felt thinking about this weekend. Almost.

New York city is known for the lights, the glamour, for never sleeping. To me, it is all of this and more. To me, New York City is the city that moves too fast. It’s like a child snatching something while no one is looking. One minute, you have all the time in

the world, the next, it is gone; and you are not quite sure where it went. All my dreams had been buried inside me since childhood, and it was not until that year that the walls that surround them shifted and thinned. That year is like a series of photographs in my mind. I remember clearly the details around each picture, yet the surrounding time is lost to me.

The years after sped by at such a pace that I am not even entirely sure they happened. One day I looked around me, at what my life had become, and I was not sure how I had gotten there. How my life had taken this form when I could faintly recall trying to re-shape its mold. When life is so unremarkable that it can hardly be brought to mind, is it really life? Or is it simply living? Perhaps that brief spark of life had fizzled out of me. The fire which burned left nothing but embers, occasionally flaring and then quietly trying to stay alight.

If you do not pay attention, if you allow yourself to coast without thought through everyday motions, you will not really live. You will wake up as I did and not even recognize yourself in the mirror. Your life will be so familiar that you will not even realize you got lost and when the sky darkens it will matter little what the next day shall bring. For each day will resemble the last, and each mark you make on your calendar will bring you closer to something, only you will not know what that something is. Don’t move too fast. For when you do, you miss out on the joy that is slowing down. The joy that comes from being so fully present in life, it does not look familiar at all.

Chapter 3:I stood on the corner with my hands tucked into my pockets, lightly scraping

the pavement with the toe of my shoe. Fall decorations lined the adjoining streets and children ran ahead of their parents, looking at all the festival had to offer. After what felt like ages of standing there alone watching friends and couples wander down the road, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Hey!” Hadlee stood behind me, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked towards the event.“Hey,” I responded.“Ready for this?” She asked, anticipation written plainly across her face.“Absolutely.” Together we took to the street, wandering through the vendors as they sold crafts, clothing, and food. The sun was shining bright, warming the pavement and lessening the intimidation of the towering glass buildings. Hadlee was looking at everything, taking it all in and talking to the vendors about their work. She was bundled in a dark green army jacket and her curls stuck out from under a black beanie. She bounced around people, looking as happy as the children that weaved through the crowd. “One,” she whispered to herself.“What was that?”“Oh, nothing. Just an old habit I can’t shake.”“What is it?”She blushed. “It was a red van.”“A red van?”

“Yeah. They’re not as common as you’d think.” Her blush deepened. “Don’t be embarrassed!” I had never seen her embarrassed before. I couldn’t imagine what it was about the van that had made her so nervous to talk about. “You can tell me. I won’t think its weird.”“It’s just, my dads band drives a red band. When I was a kid, he started touring for longer, without us. He knew I missed him, so he told me to count every red van that I saw. He said as long as I was counting the vans, he would be ok. That he would make money and then come straight back to see us. So I always counted the vans. I guess as I got older I just never really stopped.”“That’s really nice,” I said. “I wish I had something like that with my parents.”“Really?”“Yeah.”“I have an idea!” “What is it?”“You’ll see!” She stood at a vendor’s booth, where she pulled out a few coins and handed them over to the woman behind the table. In return, the woman handed her a container of chalk.“Chalk? What do we need that for?”“We’re going to draw!” She ran over to a section of pavement that was less crowded, and dropped to the ground. Hesitantly, I joined her, trying not to get dirt on my thick gray sweater. “I don’t understand what you’re doing,” I told her, eyeing the chalk.“What do you mean? Haven’t you ever drawn with chalk on the road?”“I’ve seen chalk drawings on the road, yes, but I’ve never done it.”She looked at me with shock. “Never?”“No,” I responded. “My mother said it would be crude to mark up the roads our city looks after, especially outside our building. She said it would offend the residents.”“How could anyone get offended by a child drawing with chalk?”“Part of the buildings pride comes from its sleek appearance. That applies to both the exterior and interior. It could lose market value if that was damaged.”Hadlee stared at me with complete confusion, as if nothing I had said made any sense to her. She shook her head, and her curls flew around her face rapidly. “Well then, its high time you drew with chalk.” She passed me a piece, and watched as I stared down at it. “Go on, draw something.”“I don’t know what to draw.”“Just be creative. Draw something, anything.”“I’m not creative,” I admitted. “Not even a little bit.”“Everyone’s creative,” Hadlee laughed. “Its in our nature!”I shrugged. Slowly, I drew a happy face on the ground.“Really? That’s all?”“I told you, I’m not creative.”She sighed, and then grabbed a piece for herself. “Alright. I’ll draw something, and you can draw what you see. Or something you’ve already seen.”“I think I can do that,” I nodded.

The two of us sat side by side, facing away from each other as we worked on our drawing. The whole thing was so different than anything I had experienced

before that it felt like I was watching it from above, and was not really taking part in it at all. The chalk scratched against the pavement, and I could hear her shifting as she furiously scribbled. Turning, I took a piece of red chalk from the container, putting my blue one back. Hadlee caught me and smiled, pleased at my effort. I smiled back at her before returning to my drawing. As I sat on the pavement, intensely trying to perfect my work, time passed without my immediate knowledge. I was immersed in my drawing, reveling in the peace that came from the simple movement, from drawing lines and seeing this picture emerge. The sun dipped lower in the sky and the air chilled the way it only can in the fall. Families walked past, casting glances at our chalk art, and the laughter of the afternoon faded to a peaceful, evening calm. We sat silently, yet the scratching of the chalk remained as a silent reminder to the others presence.

Finally, Hadlee placed her chalk back into the container. “Done.” She wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving white fingerprints across

the material.“Can I see it?”“Only if I can see yours.”“Deal.”She moved out of the way, and I looked over at her work. It was a mass of

circles and shapes, all swirling together in a fit of color. The art was completely disorganized, yet blended together in a way that seemed to make perfect sense.

“Wow,” I muttered. “It’s beautiful.”“You think so?” She looked down at her drawing. “Now, yours.”I moved away from my work so she could see it. “Is that Sunday in the Park?”“You know it?”“Everyone knows it, I’m just surprised that’s what you drew.”“Georges Seurat is my favorite artist,” I told her. “I couldn’t do it all in dots,

but the similarity is there.”“Wait a second. You have no creativity, but you like art?”“Yeah, I guess,” I admitted. “I admire it. Creativity.”“Everyone can be creative.”“Some more than others.”

The night continued and I found myself oddly at peace. It was easy, and fun, and I felt comfortable, like I could be myself with no judgment should I deviate. There was no question we were different people, with lives that would never truly intersect; yet at the time it was easy to forget. It was like I inhabited two different worlds instead of one. The world where I was me, and the world where I was as Hadlee saw me.

After the fair was over, we sat on a bench in the park eating caramel corn. It was not quite dark out, but the sun was near setting. We listened to the muffled sounds of the city traffic and the occasional late night jogger. The night lay upon the trees casting shadows across the walking trail. The silence was not awkward, but comforting; the whole thing reminded me of why people loved New York so much. It

was possible to feel completely at peace, like you were the only person in the whole world, yet at the same time, it was hard to feel truly alone. As if you could stumble upon someone in the oddest of places, no matter where you were.

“What are you going to do?” I asked her. “After school?”“I don’t think you can ever know that ahead of time,” she whispered. “I’d like

to be in a band. No, I’d love to be in a band. To tour everywhere and just play like my dad does. The whole thing seems so freeing. You can be yourself completely with no worries.”

“Everyone has worries,” I told her.“Maybe, but some people have less.”I wasn’t sure she was right about that. Less worries, maybe, but that didn’t

mean their worries weren’t more important ones. Quantity does not reflect quality. “What about you?” She asked. “What I want to do?”“Yeah.”“I want to be like my dad too. He was a businessman. Real estate, stocks, stuff

like that. He was the best. He made money but people still liked him. That’s the way he was. You couldn’t really dislike him.”

“Is that really what you want? Business? Or just to be like him?”“Does it matter?” I ask. “His life, what he had, it’s everything I want. A good

job, good family, happiness.”“There’s a difference you know, between being happy and being content.”“He was both.”“Sometimes the way you see people isn’t how they really are.”“My dad was happy,” I snap out too quickly. “You don’t know him, don’t act

like you do.”“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re right, I don’t know him. He sounds like a

good father.”“He was,” I whisper back.“What happened to him?”“What do you mean?”“You keep talking about him like he’s not here anymore.”“He’s not,” I admit quietly. “He passed away when I was fourteen.”“I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”“It was.” I kept talking, not sure why. I hadn’t talked about this with anyone

before. With my friends, I didn’t have to. They were there; they saw me at my worst, I didn’t have to explain anything to them. With my mother, she was strong. I only ever saw her cry once after the day it happened. I’m sure she cried more, but never in front of me.

“It was a heart attack. No one knows why it happened. He didn’t smoke, he ate well, he exercised, there was no genetic history. It just happened. He got home from work and we ate dinner like we always did. That night it happened. I was sitting in the hospital thinking it couldn’t be real. That he would walk out of that room with the same smile he always had and everything would be fine. Except he never came out. The whole thing was a blur of white and nurses and the smell of antiseptic that I can’t smell without feeling sick now.

Everything was different after that. My mother had always been strong, and stern, but after that she didn’t smile as much. The only time she seemed really happy was when she was with me. Even then, she wasn’t as happy as she used to be. Things weren’t the same. They weren’t as stable. She took over some of his business dealings, hired a few people to help her. She runs them fine, but I know she wishes he was still here to do it. It’s weird, because life is almost the same, but it’s not. It’s like taking a picture and changing the filter and the way it’s lit. It’s the same picture, but it will never look quite the same as the original.”

She sat there quietly, listening to my rant. She was the first person I had ever told, the first person that knew about this scar that raked across my childhood. At first, she didn’t say anything. She just sat there, letting the silence settle. Then slowly, she rested her hand lightly on my shoulder.

“You sound just like him.”With that, I felt calm again. She didn’t try to comfort me, or apologize, or ask

questions. She said the exact thing that could make me feel better, and I wasn’t sure how. I was relieved, and almost happy. I managed a small smile.

“C’mon,” I said, “we should probably go now.”We got up from the bench and walked out of the park, and for the first time, I

truly felt like we had become friends. The kind of friend that you can talk to, share your secrets with, the kind that isn’t always so easy to find. We laughed as we made our way to the subway, talking about little things that wouldn’t matter the next day. As we rode home in the almost empty cars, I thought of something.

“Hey, my mother is having a gala in a few weeks. Do you want to come?”“A gala?” She eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah, you know, a really fancy party. There’s going to be music, and food.”“And lot’s of really fancy people I don’t fit in with.”“What? C’mon, they’re just people!”“I don’t know Declan, it would be really weird.”“It won’t be.” I assured her. “Please, come to the gala. It’ll be nice to have

someone my own age there.”“What about your friends?”“They might come, they might not. Does it matter?”She sighed. “Fine. I’ll come.”“Good,” I smiled. “You’ll have a blast.”“We’ll see,” she huffed as the subway came rolling to its stop.

The Night of the Gala

*Clink * Champagne classes lightly tapped each other as guests mingled in the

ballroom of the swank hotel. Long, silky dresses brushed the floor and heels clicked against the floor. Gold decorations hung from the ceilings and the chandelier glittered from the center of the room. The quiet sound of a violin emerged from hidden speakers, muffled by the laughs and chatter of the attendees. Tables draped in white were filled with stuffed crab and small Belgian chocolates. My mother’s party was full of Manhattans elite, and it was looking like a success.

“Isn’t this just lovely?” She stood beside me, a small smile playing on her face. A long, sapphire blue gown brushed the toe of her heels and made her hair look more golden than usual. That evening, she had draped on her necklace like she always did for parties, yet since my father’s death she looked more nostalgic than wistful.

“You did a great job mother.” I took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, my tailored black suit much different than his more loosely fit tailed coat.

“You look absolutely wonderful,” she cooed. “One of the ladies from my society club, Annabelle, is bringing her daughter you know.”

“Mother, please stop trying to set me up.”“How do you think I met your father? Our mothers introduced us.”“Now I know that isn’t entirely true. Your mothers may have brought you to

the same party, but you met on your own. If I remember correctly, he interjected as a man you found rather unappealing tried to dance with you.”

“Well if our mothers hadn’t brought us, it never would have happened. By all means, meet her as you choose, just please do meet her.”

“I invited Hadlee mother, you know this.”“Yes, but I didn’t think she was coming as your date.”“Not a date, entirely, but as my guest. Which means I should not be off trying

to meet some strange girl.”“That is an excuse if I have ever heard one.”“Please mother, it’s not as if this is your last party.”She pursed her lips and cast her eyes on me, the duller blue they got when

she was not pleased.“I suppose not. I just hate to see you wasting opportunity.”“I’m not wasting it. I’m just saving it for later.”She sighed, exasperated. “Ah, there she is now.” I tapped her wrist lightly. “It will be fine mother. Just

watch.”“Are you so sure?” She looked past my shoulder. I turned and saw Hadlee. It would be hard not to, as she looked so different

from everyone else there. She had pinned back her curls, but they still cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Her dress was long and purple, with just a touch of shine to the material to hint that it’s price was significantly lower than some of the gowns that were being worn. Wide eyed, she made her way over to us as people eyed her from over the tops of their glasses.

“Hi,” she smiled quickly.“Hadlee, hey, I’m glad you made it. Nice dress.”“Thanks, I wore it to prom. It was the fanciest thing I had.”I glanced over at my mother; her lips had never looked so pursed. “Hadlee, this is Madelyn Ward, my mother. Mother, this is Hadlee.”“Pleased to meet you,” my mother said, gently lifting her hand for a brief

handshake. “You too,” Hadlee replied. “Declan’s told me about you.”“Has he now.” I could feel the slight shift in her voice.

“Only the most wonderful things,” I kissed her lightly on the cheek and dragged Hadlee away.

“Do you dance?”“Not really,” she said. “Not this kind.”“It’s not that hard, really.”I pulled her onto the dance floor, and rested one hand lightly on her waist. I

took her other hand in mine and led her slowly.“Declan, I hate to say this, but I think people are looking at me as if I don’t

belong at all.”“Hadlee, relax. It’s fine. Your just new to the circle, that’s all.”“I don’t think you understand. You belong here, you always have. I don’t.”“It’s just dancing. Really, your doing fine.”She nodded and looked around at all the other dancers. “I’m not as good as them.”“Think about this, you’re a musician. You have natural rhythm. Just imagine

your feet as the instrument. Play along.”She nodded, and smiled at me. “Thanks.”“No problem,” I smiled back.We continued to dance and after a few more songs, I caught my mother

standing with a woman. She was laughing, and after a moment, a girl went to stand beside the woman. She had pale brown hair and thin arms. Her dress was a deep red and my mother was beaming at her. My mother looked up and caught my eye, head tilting slightly towards the girl. I shook my head at her.

After another few songs, we left the dance floor in search of a drink. Hadlee and I stood near the food, sipping from our glasses. There was a raspberry in her champagne, and she eyed it curiously.

“Have you never had it with a raspberry before?” I asked. “I’ve never had it before at all,” she admitted. “Do you like it?”“I think so. It’s very bubbly.”I laughed as she took another small sip. As we had been talking, my mother

approached. “Declan, Hadlee, how is your night so far?”“It’s been great, thank you.” Hadlee smiled at her.“Wonderful. I would like to introduce you both to Emily.”The girl in the red dress shifted forward and smiled at us. Earlier, I had only

see her from the back, but standing face to face, I struggled to suppress a laugh. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me, but she maintained composure.

“Emily, how have you been?” I asked.“Fine, thank you. And yourself?”“Just splendid.”My mother’s eyes darted between us. “Do you two know each other?”“As a matter of fact, we have met,” I told her. “Just briefly, some time ago.”Emily’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Mother, why don’t you go visit your friends, and we’ll look after Emily for a

moment.”

My mother smiled, clearly pleased, and whisked off to go rejoin her friends. Emily shifted awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”“Oh please don’t judge me,” she whimpered. “It wasn’t my fault. I thought I

had less!”We had met a year before at a party a mutual friend was throwing. She had

gotten a little tipsier than I’m sure she would have liked, as had James. The two of them had been flirting for some time, and in the heat of the moment, had a heated make out in an area that was not quite secluded enough.

“Emily, calm down. I’m the only one who saw you kiss him. Besides, you could have found yourself with someone worse.”

“I suppose that is true.”“Hold on a second, you’re embarrassed because you kissed someone?”

Hadlee stared at her in shock.“I may have had a touch more to drink than I should have,” Emily whispered

to her. “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”“So?” Hadlee stared at her. “Who cares? Emily, your in your twenties! Is this

really the worst thing you have ever done?”Emily nodded sadly at the floor.“Listen, you haven’t done drugs. You haven’t gotten extremely drunk. You are

free from a one-night stand. Don’t beat yourself up over this! In my books, you are as virtuous as it gets.”

“Really? You think?” Emily looked at her expectantly. “Absolutely. Also, this is your little secret. Those can be good for girls to have.

Empowering.”Emily nodded like Hadlee was handing her the secrets to the universe. “So I’m not going to be shunned by boys?”“What? No. Stop it. You are completely fine.” Hadlee shook her head.Emily beamed at her as my mother re-approached. “Well? How’s it going?”“Just wonderful!” Emily smiled. “I’m so glad Hadlee is here, she has been

splendid to speak with.”“Really?” My mother’s eyes widened in shock and I stifled a laugh. “They’ve really hit it off,” I told her. “Good work mother.”She sighed. “I have some unfortunate news. The piano player quit last minute.

She said her flight back to the city was delayed and she will not be able to make it. I have no idea what to do, I promised live music.”

“I can play,” Hadlee spoke up.“Excuse me?” My mother asked.“I can play. Music.”“I don’t mean to sound rude, but Declan mentioned you play the guitar. I need

a classical virtuoso, not anything rock.”“Actually,” I told her, “Hadlee is at NYU on scholarship for classical piano.”“Yeah,” she added. “I can play whatever you want.”My mother looked back and forth between us.“Fine. The piano is over there. Play your best works.”

Hadlee went over and sat down. The piano was huge; with an exterior that looked almost wet it was so expensive and shiny. She ran her hand across the key cover in awe, and then opened it. Carefully, she placed her fingers over the keys. There was a pause, and then she began to play.

The song was beautiful, and her fingers moved over the keys so quick and gracefully it looked like she was not trying at all. The guests all looked at her happily, as if they finally understood why she was here. The song built, and she played as if the music was coming right from her very fingers. I looked over at my mother, and saw a mix of shock, delight, and relief all evident on her face at once.

“See?”She looked over at me and smiled.“You were right. I’m terribly sorry for being so rude.”“You’re forgiven.”“Emily really did like her than?”“Yes, she did.”“I’m glad. I suppose if you won’t see her as a romantic possibility, she can still

have a pleasant evening.”“The gala is wonderful mother, do stop worrying. Everyone is having a great

time.”“It would have been nicer with your father here.”“This isn’t the first gala you’ve thrown since then.”“No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss having him here.”We continued to listen to the music as Hadlee played. There was something

peaceful about the whole thing, and it didn’t occur to me at the time that already Hadlee was beginning to shift my perception of the world. That before tonight, I would have initially looked at her the same way all the others did.

When she finished playing, she stood up, and all the guests began to applaud her. Emily even let out a quiet cheer. She made her way back over, and we took a seat at one of the tables as Emily left to see her mother.

“That was amazing,” I told her.“Thank you.”“You could do that for a living. Play at concerts, and galas, even with an

orchestra.”She sighed. “I know. That’s what my teachers say, even my mom sometimes.”“Do you not want to?”“I don’t know. I want to, but I also don’t. I want to play my guitar, travel, and

see places. The world of classical piano, that’s not me. It’s the stable option. The one people think I should choose. I just don’t know if I want it.”

“Stability isn’t a bad thing, you know.”“I know, it’s just, my family didn’t have that. Yet we all turned out fine. My

dad used to travel less, he’d take us with him sometimes and we got to watch the shows. The energy, the love for the music, it was electric. My mom wanted to be a ballerina, growing up. She went to ballet school and met him when she went to a show with her friends. They fell in love. Now she teaches piano and looks after us while he tours. They’re still in love. What if I was like her. What if I stayed with my classical option? What would I miss out on?”

“Maybe nothing. I don’t think we can be exactly like one parent even if we try to be. You’re both of them, and your story won’t be the same.”

“Yeah, I know your right. It’s just a big decision.”“I think you’ll make the right one.”“You do?”“You’re Hadlee Bennett. You do what you want. You’ll do what’s best for you

too.”“You know, you’re a pretty smart guy.”“Thanks, sometimes I have my moments.”We laughed at the table and continued to have what would be a night I would

always remember. I had never let someone into my world the way I had let in Hadlee. Everyone else had already been there. Yet somehow, she had entered this gala in a purple prom dress and saved my mother from having no musician. She helped Emily feel more empowered, and less like someone who had lost value. For someone who so blatantly stood out as being different, in some ways she was the same. Without anyone even realizing it, she had created a small shift in the minds of those she encountered.

They would not remember it. They would not recognize in themselves the moment when that shift happened, but it would affect them. Such as Emily, who would stop feeling ashamed for kissing someone who wasn’t her boyfriend. Emily would be more accepting of herself and meet a man who accepted her in return. She would tell him of the night she kissed James, and he would not mind. They would get married and have three children, including one son who would briefly date James’ daughter. They would kiss, but not until after they were already dating. James would be the CEO of an international bank and marry twice before settling down. He would call me occasionally, to catch up on old times, but it would not be quite the same as it was when we were young. Nothing ever is.

That one gala would not be remembered. No one would know that without it, perhaps Emily would have led a different life afterwards. This small change, this small difference in perception, can change the way we live without our even realizing. Hadlee did not cause a small change in perception for me. She did not change my life without me realizing it. Hadlee flipped my perception upside down and shook it, then put it back and let the pieces fall where they may. She changed my life, but looking at me now, you would never be able to guess.

The night of the piano lesson

“This is it!” We were standing outside a small brick building tucked into a street lined

with colorful homes that were all crammed together. The door was a bright red and various flowers were planted down the walkway. We were at Hadlee’s house. It was about a month after the gala and she had invited me to come over. She bounced in front of me, full of excitement that I would get to see her world now. We made our way up the path and she threw open the door.

“Mom! Caden! We’re here!”

A young boy came bounding down the hall, sliding to a stop when he reached us.

“Hi!”“Declan, this is my brother, Caden.”He was fairly tall for a kid, with dark messy hair and the same bright green

eyes as his sister. He was lankily built, and when he smiled I saw that he had incredibly white teeth.

“Hi,” I said back.He stared at me expectantly. “I’m Declan.”“I know! My sister talked about you.”“Did she? Was it good?”“She said you have a really nice suit.”“Really? Well I’m glad. I quite like that suit.”“How old are you? I’m ten!”“I’m twenty one,” I told him. “That’s how old my sister is!” He told me excitedly. Hadlee ruffled his hair. “Caden’s a talkative one.”“I can see that! So Caden, are you as musical as your sister?”“I don’t play,” he said matter of factly. “I’m a sound editor.”“A sound editor?”“Yeah!”“I see,” I glanced at Hadlee. “He’s really good. It’s one of those childhood genius things.”

She said. “Hi, Declan?” A woman entered the hallway. She was Latina, with the same

thick dark hair as Hadlee and Caden. Her eyes were hazel, and her face was slim with delicate features.

“This is my mom,” Hadlee told me.“Hello Mrs. Bennett,” I nodded at her.“Please,” she said, guiding us towards the living room, “my name is Sofia. I’m

not old enough for Mrs. Bennett yet.”She was younger than my mother; you could see it in her face. My mother had

frown lines slowly beginning in her forehead, where Sofia had the crinkle of laughter around her eyes. They were very different, I could tell that much already.

“Mom! Can I show Declan my music?” Asked Caden.“Why don’t you ask him?” “Declan! Do you want to hear it?”“I would love to,” I told him. He disappeared down the hall and we all took a seat. The room was very

different to my pristine white apartment. The walls were brick and covered in posters and records. The couch was thick and red, and it looked worn out, like the family had sat in the same spots their whole lives. A mishmash of chairs sat around the space, and a coffee table was covered in magazines and cd’s. I sat on one side of the couch while Hadlee curled up on the other side. Her mother perched on a thick blue armchair. The décor was all different colors, but in this house it almost seemed

to work. In the one tidy corner of the room sat a shiny black piano on top of a thick patterned rug.

“Hadlee told me about the gala,” her mother said. “I’d like to thank you.”“For what?” I asked.“For letting her play. It’s not easy to find opportunity in music.”“It was nothing,” I told her. “She’s very good. It was a natural choice.”Her mother smiled. “Well, thank you.”“You teach?” I asked her.“Yes, singing and piano. Although I do teach the occasional Latin dance

workshop. It’s nice to dance sometimes.”“Hadlee said you were a ballerina.”Sofia laughed. “Yes, a very long time ago. Hard to imagine.”Caden came running back into the room with an old laptop in his arms.

“Alright, I’m ready.”He flipped the laptop open and hit play. An electric kind of rock song began to

play, all the chords perfectly in line and harmonized. The song was incredible; the kind people would download and dance to.

“This is amazing,” I told him. “Thanks! I took one of my dads songs and crossed it with a dance track, then

added some extra instruments to blend it.”“How did you learn that?”“I just played around with it.”“That’s all? No one taught you anything?”He shook his head, looking confused that I even asked.“He’s very talented,” Sofia said. “A natural talent.”I agreed with her. This was the stuff it took people years to learn. This kid

had done it by himself at age ten. The musical abilities of this family astounded me, and I felt almost jealous.

“Why don’t I go make something to drink?” Sofia asked.“Come on,” Hadlee said, “you can see the kitchen.”It was a small house, and not a far walk to the kitchen area. There was a small

wraparound counter with an old oven and fridge. The fridge was covered in drawings and pictures, so much so you could not even see its color. The floor was a yellowed marble and the tiles on the wall hinted at the seventies. A beat up bar table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by black and white leather diner chairs. She reached under the counter and pulled out what looked like a coffee press.

“Would you like some?” She asked, as I gaped at it.“Yes!” I blurted out. “I mean, yes, please, I would love some.”I walked over and looked at it in fascination.“You like it?” She laughed. “It’s amazing. You can’t get models like this anymore.”“I got it when I started university, the quality is exceptional, that’s why it

held. I take it you have an interest in coffee?”“There’s nothing quite like good coffee.”“I completely agree.”

She operated the machine and passed the coffee around. We moved back out into the living room and took our seats. Caden had headphones on and was typing into the computer, nodding his head to whatever sound he could hear.

“So, your in business?” Sofia asked me.“Yeah, I am.” I responded shyly.“A good course to go into. You’ll be able to use that one day.”“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I said glancing at Hadlee.“As long as you love it. That’s what’s important.”I was shocked at her response. No one had ever said that to me before. It

wasn’t a philosophy my family lived by. A career was for success, it was not a hobby; the love came from what it brought us, not in the act itself.

“So, Hadlee said you were a ballet dancer.”“I was, that’s what brought me to New York. Puerto Rico didn’t offer the same

opportunities.”“Were you dancing professionally?”“I went to the School of American Ballet here in New York before being

accepted into the New York City Ballet dance company. It was my dream.”“Why did you stop?”“Dreams change. The world of ballet is harsh, and I couldn’t spend my life

that confined. I met Hadlee’s father at one of his shows, and it was because of him that I found my new dreams.”

“A ballerina at a rock show?”“I was still in my twenties you know. Having fun was still possible.”“So how did you meet? If he was playing?”“I supposed he noticed me. A Latina woman surrounded by tall, thin,

American women is not a common sight. We met officially after the show, when he went to get a drink. The two of us stepped outside and just began talking. He took me to see a band that was playing a few weeks later, and now, here we are. What about your parents? How did they meet one another?”

“My grandmother was having a gala. She had invited her friend, my other grandmother, who brought my mother. My mother was dancing with a man she did not particularly enjoy who had a deep interest in her. My father saw her distaste, and interjected. They spent the whole evening together and began dating soon after. Their mothers were delighted.”

“It sounds like an old movie,” Hadlee said. “I suppose it was.”“Well, it’s lovely,” Sofia responded. “Wait a second, is that why Emily was there?” Hadlee asked, her eyes lighting

up with humor. I blushed deeply. “I don’t think so, no.”“It was!” She cried. “Your mother is trying to find you a wife!”“I can marry whomever I wish,” I snorted. “My mother is not searching for my

wife.”“Oh please,” Hadlee rolled her eyes. “She is. She completely is! A sweet little

society girl who will host parties just like her.”

“My mother is not a sweet little society girl,” I snapped at her. “She runs my fathers business and was more than one social chair leader long before that. She may not be running the world from behind a desk but she does more than sit in a chair and drink tea.” I turned away.

“I’m sorry,” Hadlee whispered. Her mother stood up slowly, and began clearing away the mugs. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” I told her. “I’m sorry for getting so mad.”We were alone in the room at this point, the two others having left. “Your family is just so different from mine. Look at your parents, how they

met. What if your mom hadn’t gone to that bar that night? What if he hadn’t seen her? They wouldn’t be together. My parents would have met no matter what. They would have been brought together in hope of them loving each other enough to get married, never mind the great, deep love they were lucky enough to have. That doesn’t happen to everyone in our circle. They get married out of their own comfortable love and end up staying together just because they like one another. My parents were the lucky ones but they still would have been married. Your parents may have never have even met.”

“They did though. That’s what matters.”“They let you go into music because you love it. That was your only reason. I

never even thought about what I wanted. I just knew. I like it, but I don’t know what I love. I love art, I love running, and I love coffee. I love what I’m going to become but I don’t know if I love what I’m doing. I’ve never had someone tell me to consider that. I’ve never been told to consider anything because I never needed to make the choice.”

“What do you want to be?” She asked me.“What?”“That’s the first step. Knowing that.”“I want to be like my dad.”“Your dad was happy. He was in love. You can be that without doing all the

same things.”“No I can’t. I can’t have the business and the suits, and the apartment. I can’t

have the wife by my side that wears the necklace I gave her to every special party and who puts it on as I brush my hair. I can’t have the view of New York that makes me feel I own the world. That was my dad. I want that to be me.”

“There’s more to life than all of that.”“You say that because you’re the same as me. You want to play music, tour

the country. See the sights and experience. You want to be just like your dad Hadlee. So do I. That just means different things for us.”

“Your right,” she whispered. “I do want that.”That night we admitted that which we had never admitted before. We had both

known it, deep down. So had everyone else, yet like many things, saying it out loud made it more real than it had ever seemed before. We both had these ideas for our lives, things we had seen and in turn wanted for ourselves. Yet when you whittled away all the small details that made up the picture, the canvas itself was the same. Everyone in the world wants something. Those things pile up into a mass of wants so different from one another they cannot conceivably be the same. Yet at the heart of all our

wants, at the heart of every deep desire, is the same thing. The same feeling. We search for it; all our lives, and some come close to finding it. Some do not. Perhaps that search is what really matters in the end. Not having our wants become reality, for that can never truly happen. Look at me. I got everything I ever wanted, and it turned out to be something completely different. That is perhaps, the way of the world. A veil of illusion draped over our eyes that make us feel so close, and blinding us to how far we truly are.

The night of the Brooklyn Bridge

“So? What did you think?” Hadlee looked at me expectantly. I had met her downtown that evening at a food truck that was known for being hard to find. My street food knowledge was limited, so Hadlee had insisted on showing me all it had to offer. She had already ordered by the time I got there, and when it was ready she handed me a container overflowing with food. It was greasy, fattening, and salty, and I had loved it.

“I’ll admit, this is pretty good.”“Pretty good? Declan, street food is one of life’s greatest inventions!”“More so than the telephone?”“I’d have street food before a phone any day,” she told me with complete

seriousness. It was still early, and the sun was just beginning to set. We were wandering

around Brooklyn, wasting time. Hadlee had invited me for a night on the town, and I wasn’t quite sure what that would mean. I was guessing it would be different than my version. Brooklyn was very different from Manhattan, even though their locations were not that far apart. We continued to wander through the streets, exploring what was for me a new part of the city. Shop lights began to flick on as the sky darkened, and it looked to me as if Brooklyn was just beginning to wake up.

We made our way back to Hadlee’s house, which looked like something from an eclectic fairytale in the dark. During our walk, we had seen one red van, which I had pointed out to her delight. I walked slowly up the cracked walkway and followed her into the living room. Instead of stopping, she turned down a narrow hallway that led away from the kitchen. I followed her down the dimly lit walkway and into the bathroom, which was small and cramped. The walls were plain beige and the mirror over the sink was stained and dull. I turned away to hide the shock on my face. Her house was unlike any I had ever been in and every new room I saw made me feel a small pang of discomfort, and then guilt for feeling the discomfort at all.

I sat down at the edge of her bathtub, a white claw foot tub that made me balance on its thin edges. Hadlee stood at the vanity, where she was raking her fingers through her thick hair. She looked completely absorbed in what she was doing, like she had forgotten I was there at all. After a shake of her head that caused her curls to fall back into place, she pulled off her old grey t-shirt and tossed it beside her into a laundry basket. My eyes widened in surprise and it didn’t appear as if she even noticed.

She opened a drawer under the sink and pulled out a small black bottle. Unscrewing the lid, she closed an eye and proceeded to apply eyeliner to her upper lashes, flicking the brush out at the end to make it wing. I had never seen a girl apply makeup before other than my mother, who would never be caught dead with black eyeliner. The sight fascinated me, and I realized just how much things had changed if I was sitting on a bathtub studying a girl apply her eyeliner.

Hadlee caught my eye in the mirror and smiled at me. For the first time since meeting her, I felt a small jolt of something, though I wasn’t sure what it was. There was something about that bathroom, and the girl who was standing there doing her makeup that made me feel as if I wasn’t Declan Ward anymore. As if this was no longer my life, but another version of it, one where things like this happened and were not strange at all. Yet they were strange. They were very strange, and new, and the direct opposite of everything I had ever known. It was like being in a parallel universe, and this time I felt like I was in so deep, I wasn’t sure if I could ever really come back.

Hadlee finished what she was doing and left the room. She was gone for only a few seconds, and when she came back she was wearing a grungy black tank top over her ripped jeans. I pulled myself up and followed her back down the hallway into the main room. She slipped on the combat boots she had been wearing the first time we met and as I turned towards the door, I caught our reflections in the mirror that hung on the wall. The image was strange, like someone had taken two separate pictures and tried to put them together. Hadlee was wild, with her dark hair and clothes, and I was not. My hair was neatly combed and my pale blue button up shirt was rolled to my elbows. I could see Hadlee look over at me in the mirror. She leaned over, reaching up towards me. Her fingers touched my hair, and as I watched, she tousled it, undoing my styling.

“Better?” She asked.“Yeah, thanks,” I laughed. We left the house and made our way back down the streets, except this time,

it looked as if she knew exactly where she was going. We wove down small sidewalks and further into the heart of Brooklyn. After a while, we reached what looked like an old worn down building with boarded windows. Despite the gaunt look of the building, people stood around the door, smoking and sipping from thin metal flasks. Their eyes raked over me in confusion and amusement as I followed Hadlee inside.

“Where are we?” I asked.“It’s a club that I come to sometimes. There’s an awesome band playing

tonight.”“This is a club?”“Yeah, it used to be more punk, which is why everything looks so run down.

The owner couldn’t keep it under control, so he sold it.”Inside, the club was packed. A long bar covered the far wall, and people

crowded around it. The lights were too dim to see anything clearly, and brighter spotlights swirled around from above. The whole place smelled like smoke, cheap beer, and body odor. I stood still for a moment, trying to adjust. Hadlee led me over

to the stage, where we claimed a spot near the middle of the crowd. She pulled a small flask out of her boot and handed it to me.

“Where did you get this?” I asked her, shocked.“I brought it.”“Are you even allowed to drink that in here?”“Declan. There is just enough for you to have a sip, and for me to have a sip.

One sip.”I took it from her and raised it to my lips, casting my eyes around for

security, yet I hadn’t seen any since getting here. Quickly, I took a sip. The liquid burned the back of my throat and I passed it back to her. She took her sip, and then tossed the container at a drunk guy, who caught it before looking around in confusion, unsure as to who threw it.

“Why did you do that?” I asked her.“He’ll get rid of it, I didn’t want to lose my spot.”“But why are you getting rid of it?”“It was a two dollar flask I got a garage sale. I don’t want to carry it around

with me all night.”Surprisingly, her logic made sense to me, and I shrugged in agreement. If someone had told me early on in our friendship that I would be throwing flasks at drunk guys to get rid of them, I would not have believed you. I wouldn’t even have believed that I would be at a rock club in Brooklyn, yet here I was, starting to even enjoy myself.

There was a flash of green light, and then smoke started pouring onto the stage. The crowd began to scream and cheer, Hadlee included, yelling at the top of her lungs in excitement, her head bobbing up and down as she bounced on her feet. The excitement was intoxicating and in the moment I let out a yell of my own, even though I had never heard of the band. Hadlee grinned at me, laughing at how new I was to all of this. The lights flashed a few more times, and then came the crash of the symbols as the band began their first song.

The music was loud and upbeat, the kind of rock song that fills your blood and makes it feel like you’re on fire inside. The band had long hair that flipped across their faces as they wailed out the lyrics and danced along with the people in the club. I was jumping around with Hadlee, yelling out the choruses while she sang all the songs in full. We danced around, bumping into people and screaming cheers when the songs ended. The adrenaline was pulsing through my body and I could not think of a time in my life when I had ever let go this much. Had so much fun without caring what I looked like or who was going to see me. It was just Hadlee and I, listening to music at an old punk club. It didn’t even feel like I was in New York anymore, the place I had grown up. It was like this club was a whole city of its own; one where you could be whatever you wanted and no one would care.

It felt like we were there for hours, and when the show wound down, we poured into the street with the others, laughing and yelling. I stood beside the building, catching my breath and letting the sweat cool. Hadlee lifted her hair up off her neck and grinned at me.

“That was insane,” I told her.“Did you like it?” “Of course! They were awesome! How did you find out about them?”

“My dad met them touring. He brought home their cd for me to listen to. I loved it.”

“That must be great, being able to hear so much new music.”“Yeah, its definitely a perk of having a relative in the business.”“Must be a tough business though,” I said, glancing at the club.“Some things are worth it.”“So what next? The night is still young,” I glanced at my phone and see its

only two am. “I have an idea actually.”Before we left, Hadlee pointed across the street where a van sat parked

beneath a warehouse sign.“Two.”I smiled at her. We began to walk through the city, with Hadlee leading the

way. When we got to the subway, she led me down the stairs. There weren’t many people here this late, and it was strange to see the place so deserted. Our footsteps echoed through the tunnel and we waited silently. In the quiet, I could hear the subway as it approached from the tunnels, and in the emptiness it seemed especially loud. It roared to a stop in front of us, and we stepped into the fluorescent-lit car. The two of us collapsed into the hard plastic chairs that line the sides, and smile at a woman who sits at the opposite end in a skintight dress. She smiled back with the knowing look that seems to be reserved for those you meet late at night. Those you know are having their own adventure, making their own stories.

The car took off, and we speed through the tunnels, sitting in the peaceful quiet that you can only have with the people you are truly comfortable around. The lights flickered occasionally and I relaxed into the quiet. The night was still, yet I could still feel the pulse and energy that the city always seemed to have. Hadlee stirred beside me, her heel bouncing on the floor. I could smell her shampoo from where I sat, a scent that I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t as girly as the scent of the girls I knew. Their shampoos were fruity or flowery. This was something completely different. Something that was distinctly Hadlee. Twenty minutes went by before Hadlee stood back up.

“This is our stop.”We exited the subway and make our way back up the steps toward New

York. When we entered the street, I saw it was much busier than it had been outside the club.

“We’re at Times Square?” I looked at her in confusion. I’ve been here many times, both in the day and at night.

“Times Square is the best place to be at night. It’s magical!”“Hadlee, it may be nice, but it’s still only Times Square. I’ve been here a

hundred times.”People moved in small packs around me, tourists staring in awe at the

flashing lights and billboards. Laughter and voices swirled around me, and it reminded me of being younger. Hadlee grabbed my arm and dragged me into the middle of it all, where the lights were brighter and the sound was louder. She made a large gesture around her, like she was trying to offer something.

“Don’t you see it?”

“I don’t think so.”She sighed. “Declan, look around you. This is New York! The city of dreams!

This right here is the very heart of it all!”I looked around me but all I saw was the same thing it always looked like.

“It’s just a part of the city.”“It’s not though!” She pointed to the lights. “Where else can you see that?

Those lights and those billboards, all together like that? Lighting up the sky? Where else can you see musicians, and actors, and dancers, all gathered in one place hoping to get noticed? Where else can you see people from all over the world trying to capture and save their own little piece of the magic?”

“Hadlee, you can see that everywhere.”“Not like this! Declan, come on. Look at it. Really look at it. Not at what you

see, but at all the feelings that come with it. Look at the happiness, at the hope, at the dreams in these people you can feel just by seeing it. Really look.”

I looked around me at all the people gathered in this square, and for the first time, things seemed a little bit different. The musician playing his guitar did have a softness to him, a happiness at doing what he loved. The dancer looked not just happy, but alive, like this performance was the most important thing he had ever done. The tourists looked awed, and happy, like they too found themselves in a world different from what they had always known. The excitement and passion was not just alive in these people, it was in the very air around them. It was an energy, a feeling of hope and life that grabbed them around their hearts and filled them so fully that they didn’t need anything else to survive. Hadlee was right. It was magical.

When I turned to look at her, I saw her watching me, a smile flittering across her face. She looked calm, happy, less of the headstrong girl I knew and more peaceful. As if she knew I could feel it. As if she could really see me the way she saw the other people in the square. The thought knocked some of my breath away and left me with a feeling I had not experienced before. The idea of someone really seeing me, knowing what I thought and felt before I had to tell them, it scared me. It made me vulnerable in a way I had never been before, like someone was stripping away the outer parts of me and laying my soul bare for everyone to see. Yet as much as it scared me, it calmed me. Hadlee reached out and looped her arm in mine, and together we walked through the square. Being there, together, amongst the hundreds of other people was like being a small star in the sky. Yet there was something about that night that made me feel like the brightest star of all.

The sky was black when we reached the bridge. The water crashed beneath us, and only a few stars could be seen. There was less traffic then there was during the day, and the whole thing seemed very quiet, despite the muffled noises of the city that never shut off. We stood on the walkway, our hands wrapped around the metal rails as we looked down at the choppy river. The night air was chilly and the breeze pushed back my hair. Hadlee’s curls looked almost black in the night, and her freckles looked like small constellations that covered her body. She stared out at the towering city that went on as far as we could see.

“Hey Declan.”“Yeah?”“Three.”

I laughed, but she fell silent, staring back out at the city as her smile faded.“Sometimes I forget, just how big the city is,” she whispered. “It used to feel so small,” I whispered back. “Even though it should have

looked bigger.”“When you’re a kid you don’t think about it. How big the world is. How small

you are in it. Then one day it hits you, and you can’t go back. All your innocence, your ignorance, its gone. You can’t get it back even if you try.”

“I always thought I could get it back, that if I worked hard enough I could have it again. Now sometimes I wonder if you never do. If when my dad looked out that window, he knew he couldn’t have the world. That even if you go higher, it doesn’t make the world any smaller.”

“It can make the world easier.”“Does it though? I don’t have it easier than you. Some things are easier, yes,

but not everything.”“Yet you still want it.”“When you’ve been wanting something for so long, it’s hard to stop. It just

changes.”“Has it changed? What you want?”“I don’t know. The picture is still the same, but, its different somehow.

There’s something about it that’s not the same, but I don’t know what that something is.”

“You’ll find it.”“What if I don’t?”“A year ago you never would have even looked. People change Declan. You

have.”“I know. That’s what scares me.”“Change isn’t always bad.”“I’ve never had it be good.”“Would it be better to never change? To stay the same forever? Happiness

and contentment are very different things, but I don’t think you know that.”“I didn’t.”“Do you now?”I looked over at her, standing there on the bridge beside me. Her hair fell in

front of her eyes and for the first time, she looked almost scared. Like she wasn’t sure what I was going to say, like maybe she had said too much.

“Yeah, I do,” I told her, catching her eyes and holding them with mine. A small breath escaped her lips, the relief curling her mouth upwards.

“Will you remember?” She asked, her voice small, carried to me on the breeze.

“I don’t think I can forget.”

Of all the memories I have, that night is the one I cling to. The one I can never forget. It is the night that appears when I sleep, hazel eyes blinking at me in the darkness. It is the sharp twist of my gut every time I hear the East River. It is the reason I have not been to Times Square in thirty years. There are some people in your lives who leave a mark so deeply imprinted that it can never fade, never be removed. That

night I thought I had long since lost my innocence, my ignorance, but I was wrong. For it is not until you wake up gasping from a nightmare that was once a dream do you realize what ignorance really is. It is believing that in the end of your life you will be fully and truly happy. It is believing that regrets can wash away until they no longer exist and that one day you will be smart enough to not have any at all. It is the difference between knowing and truly understanding. I knew what happiness was, and I knew that it was not the same as being content, yet I never understood. Not until it was too late. Not until I had a wife, and grandkids, and a life I had lived with such contentment that it never occurred to me I could be happier. That my story could be different, that it could be mine.

Chapter 5:

It was easy to be with Hadlee, when it was just the two of us. We got each other, and she was one of the best friends I had ever had. Life was simple when we were together, everything made sense and I could be the better person I had become with her. Yet eventually real life comes back. I had been seeing Hadlee so much, that I hadn’t seen my friends very often. They didn’t approve of her, and as I started reconnecting with them, my friendship with Hadlee got tenser. We had been living in our own world, and once it came time to open that world up, nothing was quite the same.

Over time, we fought more. We were no longer immersing ourselves into one another’s world and reveling in the adventure. Our worlds and differences were beginning to come together only instead of merging peacefully, they were clashing.

“What should we do tonight?” Hadlee collapsed beside me on the bench. We were outside the university, in a deserted part of the quad. I had gotten out of class early and everyone was making their way home or to the park to enjoy the beginning of the summer sunshine. Students shuffled by, but there weren’t as many now that it was nice out.

“I was going to just have the guys over, but they were thinking of making it more of a small gathering. You can bring some of your friends if you want.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think they’ll really get along with your friends.”“Why not?”“Cause your friends sit around listening to boring music and playing beer

pong. They’re not exactly known for their fascinating personalities.”“Hey, those are my best friends, and if you haven’t noticed, I enjoy those

parties. I host those parties.”“I just think my friends will get bored.”“What, they can never have a chill night? They have to be wild and crazy all

the time?”“No! They just don’t always enjoy the same things.”“Well, it’s going to happen no matter what, so bring them or don’t. Your

choice.”“Well if I don’t bring them, I’m not going to come by myself.”“So what, I don’t count as a friend anymore?”“Not when you’re with your friends!”

“Well, considering they’re basically my brothers, I’m with them a lot.”“Yeah, I know.”“It’s not like you don’t have friends other than me.”“They’re different.”“Why? Because they’re already like you?”“No, because they’re not like you.”“Why don’t you just bring them? Who knows, maybe they’ll all get along.”“Yeah, because my friends love rich prep boys, and your friends just adore

girls like me.”“Girls like you? What does that even mean? Besides, you liked me. I liked you.

It’ll be fine.”“It won’t be fine! Why don’t you get that?”“Why are you being so insecure?”“Insecure? Are you serious?”“Yeah, your worried they’ll look down on you. I get it, but they won’t, relax.”“First of all, if that’s what I was worried about, no, you would not get it. Has

the idea never crossed your mind that my friends will look down on you? For being some rich kid who throws boring parties?”

“No, it hadn’t, because you led me to believe they were more accepting than my friends, but I guess that’s not true. Is that what you thought of me then?”

“Does it matter? The point is, I don’t want our friends to meet.”“So you’re embarrassed I’m your friend, that’s it? You have to maintain that

cool girl image and I would just ruin that.”“Why are you being so impossible?”“Me? You’re the one being impossible!”“You know what Declan, I’ve had enough. It doesn’t matter to you at all that

I’m trying to look out for you here. I know my friends. You know yours. The world isn’t all roses and daisies where everyone’s going to get along just because you ask them to! I thought you of all people would know that! Are you so blind that you think you can charm everyone into liking each other? You can’t!”

“Really? You think I’m the one who’s being blind here? You have this little world where you can be this cool girl and you’re worried that’s all going to go away. That you won’t belong, and that you’ll just be sitting there realizing that boots and ripped jeans don’t actually make you better or stronger than anybody else. They won’t give a damn whether or not your rich, but you do! You think you made all these grand life choices for yourself and gave up on money for happiness but you didn’t! You’re so scared you’re not good enough that you’re not even going to try. You’re going to play your guitar and talk about being happy when really, you would be just as happy playing piano! Only then, you’d have to actually try and be the best, and that’s too much for you to handle!”

“Fuck you Declan! At least I’m not trying to be my father so I don’t actually have to be myself! People liked him and you think they won’t like you. That you aren’t actually anything like him! So you try to be him because that’s easier than admitting you have no idea who the hell you are! You’re just a carbon copy of some old rich guy who isn’t even alive anymore!”

“I can’t believe you said that.” I got up and grabbed my bag.

“It’s true.” She spat at me.“You know what Hadlee? Whatever. You do whatever the hell you want. I

don’t care.”I grabbed my bags and stormed away. I was going to go home and prep for

my party and it was going to be great. Not lame at all. We never spoke again after that day. There were a few times when I went to

text her. I picked up my phone, even typed in her number to call once. Yet I could never hit send. Could never even think of a message. We were too different, and while once it had worked, it no longer did. We had both said terrible things, and there was no way to come back from that. No way to fully heal a wound when the scar will always be a reminder it happened. I was too mad that day to realize she was right, that I was trying so hard to be my father that I didn’t even know who I was.

Maybe if I had known everything else wouldn’t have happened the way it did. Maybe I wouldn’t have settled into a life that I thought fit so perfectly, when in reality it was made for someone else. Had I never met her to begin with, that life would have fit. It would have been like slipping on a jacket that was made just for me. Yet in that time I knew her, things changed. I changed. It is inevitable, and while we spend our lives hoping things will change for the better, sometimes they turn out worse. Sometimes you never really know which way it turns out, because you have nothing to compare it to. I changed, but my life did not, and so it did not fit. There were places where it was a little too loose, places where it was tighter than it had been before.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had sent the text, made the call. Even if you cannot heal the wound you can prevent the scar from becoming infected. Life will still change; the lines of time will still etch themselves onto your features, yet maybe, without the pain, you ‘ll find yourself with something that actually fits.

Chapter 6:“Why are we having a dinner party again?”“Oh no particular reason. I just wanted to have some people over for a nice

dinner. Besides, your starting at the company soon and it’ll be good for you to know some people. All of the guests are very influential people.”

“Not to mention your love of parties.”“Well, I suppose there is that too.” My mother laughed as she laid the

silverware next to our best plates. The table had been covered in a white tablecloth, and fresh bouquets of flowers dotted the room. She was throwing a dinner party for some of her society friends, and the whole apartment was dressed to the nines.

It had been two years since the fight with Hadlee, and in that time a lot had happened. I had graduated from NYU and gotten a job with my fathers company. Since my mother was still running the operations, she was training me to take over. For a few years I would work for her, then take over before I turned thirty. It would not be a difficult transition since she would still have partial shares in the company. My life was on track and everything was running smoothly.

“Declan, can you go check on the meal?”

“Sure thing mother.” I wandered into the kitchen where the chef was working. Something was boiling on the stove and his assistant was chopping vegetables.

“Is she worried about the meal?” He asked me.“I doubt it. You always make something wonderful. Probably just trying to

get me out of her way.” I laughed. I had known the chef since I was a kid; my mother always hired him for her parties. He knew our favorites and the foods we hated, and always made the best meals.

“Never get in the way of your mother before a party,” he agreed.I continued to roam the apartment, grabbing some wine for the table and

making sure the chairs were in place. They were all old habits now after the many dinners that had looked just like this one.

“Declan, do go get ready. The guests will be here soon.” My mother flicked a napkin at me, banishing me from the room. I went up to my room where my dress clothes were laid out, a pair of black pants and a blue dress shirt with formal shoes. I changed my clothes and then brushed back my hair so it would stay tame. I was beginning to look like my father. I always had, but as I got older it became more evident. The strong facial features were becoming more prominent, and if it were not for my mother’s eyes we would have looked exactly alike.

I could hear the door open and close downstairs and knew the guests were beginning to arrive. I stayed in my room a moment longer, savoring the peace of it all. When my moment was over, I walked down the stairs to the living room where I could see an array of people mingling with glasses of wine in their hands. I took a glass from one of the servers and searched the room. A few of the faces were familiar, people I had seen at parties before. My mother saw me and walked over, looking delighted.

“Declan, you look wonderful. Now, there’s someone I want you to meet.” She motioned towards a woman who began walking over. “This is Adeline. Her husband owns a bank downtown. He’s not here tonight, had a previous work engagement.”

“Hello,” she smiled at us.“Adeline, I’m so pleased you could make it.”“I would never miss one of your parties,” she gushed. “They’re always so

beautifully done.”“Oh well thank you, I’m glad you think so.”“Is this your son?”“Yes, this is Declan. Declan, meet Adeline.”“Hello, pleasure to meet you,” I shook her hand. “You as well. My, do you look just like your father. Truly an uncanny

resemblance.”“Doesn’t he though? Like father like son I suppose.”“What an accurate description,” Adeline laughed. “I’d say it applies to most of

the men. I haven’t met a boy yet who doesn’t grow up to be just like his father.”“If only I should be so lucky,” I told her. The women laughed and beamed at me, then continued chatting. I took this

as my opportunity to leave the two of them, who would spend the next while gossiping amongst themselves. I was walking over to the kitchen to check again on

the meal when I noticed a girl my age talking to a barrel chested man. She was giggling softly, and as he went to exchange wine glasses she made a polite exit. As she was walking away, she noticed me and flushed slightly.

“I take it the conversation was not the most desirable?”“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she stammered. “I don’t find it rude at all. I’m actually quite impressed at the whole escape.”“I’ve been in enough similar situations to get quite practiced.”“I suppose that is the downfall to being a pretty girl in our lifestyle. Being

forced to listen to the ramblings of older men who think you adore them.”“The egos can be quite large,” she giggled. “Yes well, you should know that not all men of our status have quite the same

knack for it. A few of us are actually fairly decent.”“Fairly decent? My, what a recommendation.”I laughed. She was petite, with a thin frame and blonde hair that fell straight

down to the middle of her back. Her thin violet sundress brought out the gold in her eyes, and I had to admit she was pretty.

“My name is Declan.”“Audrey.”“It’s a pleasure to meet you Audrey.”“You as well Declan. Now, aren’t you the host of this dinner?”“That would be my mother.”“Is that why you’re escaping into the kitchen?”“I am doing nothing of the sort.”“It seems to me as if you were about to.”“Yes well, then I ran into someone to talk to.”“There are plenty of people here to talk to.”“That is true. Yet none have struck my interest quite yet.”“Not a one?”“Perhaps one.”“I would imagine someone like you should be meeting everyone. Better for

business.”“I suppose you’re right. I imagine I’ll meet them all at some point. Best not to

rush it.”We continued to talk, and the talking with her was much easier than talking

to all of my mother’s friends. She reminded me of the girls I had grown up with. Smart, polite, kind, and witty enough to be interesting.

“Declan, dinner is ready, start having people make their way to the table please.” My mother appeared beside me. “Oh! You’ve met Audrey. How wonderful.”

“You know her?”“Of course! She’s Adeline’s daughter. I was hoping the two of you would

meet.”“The party is wonderful. I’m having an excellent time,” Audrey told my

mother.“I am so glad to hear you say that. Here, why don’t you come with me.” She

led us over to the table. “Oh look! I put you two beside one another. Isn’t that just coincidental.”

“I would think so,” I replied.“Well it was, so go ahead and sit down.”“I suppose you can’t make one of your impressive escapes now,” I told

Audrey.“I haven’t yet felt the need.”“Then I suppose I’m decent company?”“I would say you’re decent, yes.” She smiled at me.“I’m deeply flattered. For the record, I don’t imagine I’ll be rushing to check

on the cook anytime soon.”The evening continued to be a pleasant affair. The people at the dinner were

surprisingly interesting, though most of my time was spent talking to Audrey. She was a gardener, and liked classical music just like my mother. They spoke of that over the soup, and I spoke with Adeline about art. The whole thing was completely peaceful and made feel at ease. After the dinner was over, more wine was poured as people began to mingle. I sat in the living room with Audrey, who perched on a white armchair.

“This dinner has been lovely. I have to admit, I was expecting something a tad more boring, what with my fathers banker friends.”

“You just have to get them on the right subject, that’s all. Even a banker can be interesting.”

“I suppose that’s true. No one can work all the time.”“I suppose not. Life and work do tend to intermingle however.”“Spoken like a true businessman.”“Almost businessman. I’m not quite there yet.”“Oh hush, I imagine you’ve been a businessman your whole life. You don’t

need the office to have the title.”“Wise words.”“My mother taught me well.”“Sadly, wisdom is not always passed down.”“I take it you’ve had the luck of receiving it as well?”“I would think so, yes. My mother is very astute.”“A good trait for a woman to have.”“I think you’ve been blessed with many.”“Thank you, those are very kind words.”“All of them true.”The dinner was winding down and I could see the staff beginning to hand out

jackets. I rose from my seat and offered my hand to help Audrey. She took it, very gently, and smiled at me as she stood. I went to say good-bye to some of the guests as she got her jacket.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”“You as well.”“I should hope that we’ll meet again some day.”“I imagine we will.”“Have a good evening Declan.”“You as well Audrey.”

She left with her mother and soon after there were only two of us left in the apartment.

“I think that went quite well,” my mother said, a happy but tired look on her face.

“I agree.”“You got along with Audrey then?”“I did. She’s a very nice girl.”“I’m so pleased.”I went to bed that night not knowing that I had just catapulted myself one

step closer to the life I had always wanted. I was completely removed from the life I had lived that last year of university and not only back to my real life, but deeper within it than I had been before.

Chapter 7:

“I can’t believe its tomorrow!” My mother gushed.“I can hardly believe it myself!”“Are you nervous? Do you have everything?” “Yes mother, I’m completely alright.”“The rings are safe?”“They will be there in perfect condition.”“They’re absolutely beautiful.”Life had played out as I expected. I worked at the business and was in

preparation to take over when I turned thirty. I was twenty-eight now, and had almost learned everything there was to know about the business. I was living in my own apartment in a building a block away from my old one. It looked very similar, with the large glass windows and pristine furniture. Not long after the dinner party I had begun seeing Audrey, who was two years younger than myself. We had been dating for just over three years when I proposed to her. We did not live together, not because we didn’t see it as an option but because she had been finishing her degree, and then living with a friend of hers for a short while. It was not a particularly exciting relationship, but it was a comfortable one. Our mothers had been delighted, but were not especially surprised. Life was what I imagined it would be. We had dinners, and parties, and Audrey was by my side through it all. After the wedding she was going to come live in my apartment, and she had already started decorating. She was kind, smart, and warm hearted, everything I had wanted in a wife.

“Hello!” Audrey entered the room. We were in my mother’s apartment, and she had been with Adeline working on some last minute details.

“Is everything ready?” My mother asked.“Everything is perfect. Tomorrow is going to be just lovely.” She came over

and kissed me quickly. “I should be going though, wouldn’t want to be tired.”“Oh of course not,” my mother told her. “You need to be well rested. You’ll be

tomorrow though? To get ready? The boys will all be at Declan’s.” “Soon to be ours,” she smiled at me. “Yes, I’ll be here tomorrow morning for

breakfast.”

“Lovely. We’ll see you then. Have a good night.”“Thank you so much for everything.”“You’re welcome dear, it was my pleasure.”I walked her to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”“I’ll be the woman in white.”“I can’t wait.”“Me neither.”We kissed quickly one more time and then she left, Adeline trailing behind. I

went back to the living room and took a seat.“You don’t seem very nervous.”“I’m not.”“You don’t seem particularly excited either.”“Of course I am. We’re going to be married. Move in together. This is the start

of everything.”“You know Declan, the night before my wedding I was terrified. Yet so

excited I could hardly wait. Your father was everything to me and I could not even imagine my life without him. When I saw him at that altar I thought my heart was about ready to burst. As much as I love Audrey, and I do, she is such a sweetheart, I fear that maybe you don’t feel that.”

“I love her mother.”“There are many kinds of love. Not all are felt as deeply.”“I appreciate your concern, but I love her, she loves me. That’s all that

matters.”“I certainly hope so.” She whispered, before quietly returning to the papers

she had been looking at.

It should have occurred to me then, that she was right. It probably should have occurred to me sooner. Yet the way I saw it, love was love, and there was no need to look any more deeply than that. As time goes by, you start to realize that loving someone is not all that matters. There is so much more to love, so many other layers, that while the most basic love is easiest, it is not the most satisfying. It is not the love that gives you butterflies, or fills your heart so much you feel as if it is growing. It is nothing but mere contentment. Peace in your life. It is like loving a friend, or a relative. There is no passion, no extreme emotion. While that may be safer, while that may make things easier, it does not necessarily make them better. I had wanted the deep love that my parents had, and in my search for it, I fear I may have missed out on it entirely.

The next day would be very busy. I would get ready in my apartment with the men in my party. James was my best man, Nolan one of my groomsmen. The other two I had met in school, guys who I had been friends with and still hung out with. We would hang out in the morning as we put on our suits, and then head down to the hall, where the ceremony was taking place. Audrey would walk down the aisle in a white dress that was very simple with a little bit of lace. Our mother’s would cry together and her father would shake my hand and smile. Her bridesmaids would all be girls very similar to her, the four of them nearly unidentifiable from each other.

My mother would rent a ballroom at a swanky hotel for the reception and it would be a grand affair. The ballroom would be decorated from top to bottom, the whole thing sparkling, like something from a fairytale. There would be many speeches and a dinner catered by the chef that cooked at the dinner party. We would spend the night dancing and drinking, though no one would get particularly drunk. The wedding would be known as one of the most beautiful, elegant weddings our guests had ever attended.

Audrey and I would be married our entire lives. I would be the main shareholder of the business, and be the CEO. Audrey would go to society meetings and work on charity events. We would move to a large loft apartment in the rich part of Manhattan, which would have expensive hardwood floors and picture windows overlooking the city. We would have two children, a boy and a girl. The boy, Nathaniel, would grow up as I did, and take a business course in school. At the age of twenty-two he would begin learning the family business, which he would take over when I retired. He would marry a nice girl that he met in school, and it would always linger in the back of my mind that on his wedding day, he was more excited than I was. My daughter, Lillian, would become very involved with charity work while in high school and would study humanities in school. She would travel overseas to teach in other countries, which would shock and awe our friends. While on a charity trip, she would meet a man from New York who she would eventually marry. He would be a stockbroker and together they would travel the world and continue their charity work.

The two of them would have their own children, and I would be a grandfather. It would sadden me at first, to know my own father would never meet his grandchildren. My mother would continue to be strong, and she would live long enough to meet her great grandkids. She would eventually pass away at the age of ninety-six. Together, Audrey and I would grow old, in a peaceful sort of way. We would relocate to a small house on the outskirts of the city, where she could have a bigger garden than the flower box she had in the apartment. We would go on a few trips around the world, but would never really adventure the way Lillian did. She would tell us all the stories and while a part of me longed to see it myself, I knew that Audrey had no great desire to leave the comfort of the New York.

Time would pass and I would not really notice as it did so. Life was like flipping a book and skimming the pages. You knew what was happening, but did not have time to linger on the words and meaning of it all. I was happy, but not exceptionally so. That was alright with me, as exceptional happiness comes with a greater chance of uncertainty. Of not knowing what’s coming next, of letting your emotions control you. I knew from experience that when you let your emotions take over, things did not always end well. It was best to live life according to your brain, without letting any wild wants and desires take over. Wants and desires fade, yet a life built on rational decision will remain sturdy and strong. No bridge is built on a whim. It takes planning, thought, and constant care to build something that will stand through the trials of time and misfortune. Without emotions controlling a life, there is less conflict. Less dispute and unhappiness. It is possible to coast through in peace and contentment, with moments of bliss that remind you why you have

chosen this life. At night there are no worries to keep you awake. Everything is as it should be.

Every now and then a part of me would try to speak up, to remind me that when everything is as it should be, it cannot last. That when things have been so good for so long, maybe they weren’t really that good. Great happiness comes at the cost of having to feel pain, it’s the only way to fully appreciate the happiness. I was in limbo, a state of happiness that may not have been completely and fully true, but it was enough. I loved my children deeply, and would not trade them for the world. I loved my wife, and she loved me. I had great friends and a social circle that welcomed me fully as one of their own. I laughed, and made people laugh, and found that in adulthood I was as charming and bright as my father had been. Nathanial and Lillian were the same way. They both had charm and a natural brightness that attracted people to them. Sometimes Audrey got sad. She worried she was boring, and could not see what others saw in her. She worried that one day we would realize that there was better in the world. I always assured her it was not true. That she was exactly what I wanted, what I needed. The first part was true. She was what I had always wanted. Every now and then a nagging thought questioned the second part, but I pushed it from my mind. Without Audrey, I would have nothing. My success would be less. My family, non-existent. She was the base of my life, the glue that held everything together.

Life was everything I had wanted it to be.

Chapter 8:

The sound of the water had not changed. After all these years, after everything that had happened, the sound of the water from this spot on the Brooklyn Bridge had not changed. I stood there, in the cool breeze, remembering the young man that looked out at this view for the very first time. The man who had his very outlook on life changed by a girl, like so many men before him. Even now, I am not the man I was that night. For time can buff out change, though like sand against a rock, a few grains will always remain.

New York city is known for the lights, the glamour, for never sleeping. To me, it is all of this and more. To me, New York City is the city that moves too fast. It’s like a child snatching something while no one is looking. One minute, you have all the time in the world, the next, it is gone; and you are not quite sure where it went. All my dreams had been buried inside me since childhood, and it was not until that year that the walls that surround them shifted and thinned. That year is like a series of photographs in my mind. I remember clearly the details around each picture, yet the surrounding time is lost to me.

The years after sped by at such a pace that I am not even entirely sure they happened. One day I looked around me, at what my life had become, and I was not sure how I had gotten there. How my life had taken this form when I could faintly recall trying to re-shape its mold. When life is so unremarkable that it can hardly be brought to mind, is it really life? Or is it simply living? Perhaps that brief spark of life had

fizzled out of me. The fire which burned left nothing but embers, occasionally flaring and then quietly trying to stay alight.

If you do not pay attention, if you allow yourself to coast without thought through everyday motions, you will not really live. You will wake up as I did and not even recognize yourself in the mirror. Your life will be so familiar that you will not even realize you got lost and when the sky darkens it will matter little what the next day shall bring. For each day will resemble the last, and each mark you make on your calendar will bring you closer to something, only you will not know what that something is. Don’t move too fast. For when you do, you miss out on the joy that is slowing down. The joy that comes from being so fully present in life, it does not look familiar at all.

We had admitted that which we had never admitted before. We had both known it, deep down. So had everyone else, yet like many things, saying it out loud made it more real than it had ever seemed before. We both had these ideas for our lives, things we had seen and in turn wanted for ourselves. Yet when you whittled away all the small details that made up the picture, the canvas itself was the same. Everyone in the world wants something. Those things pile up into a mass of wants so different from one another they cannot conceivably be the same. Yet at the heart of all our wants, at the heart of every deep desire, is the same thing. The same feeling. We search for it; all our lives, and some come close to finding it. Some do not. Perhaps that search is what really matters in the end. Not having our wants become reality, for that can never truly happen. Look at me. I got everything I ever wanted, and it turned out to be something completely different. That is perhaps, the way of the world. A veil of illusion draped over our eyes that make us feel so close, and blinding us to how far we truly are.

Of all the memories I have, that night is the one I cling to. The one I can never forget. It is the night that appears when I sleep, hazel eyes blinking at me in the darkness. It is the sharp twist of my gut every time I hear the East River. It is the reason I have not been to Times Square in thirty years. There are some people in your lives who leave a mark so deeply imprinted that it can never fade, never be removed. That night I thought I had long since lost my innocence, my ignorance, but I was wrong. For it is not until you wake up gasping from a nightmare that was once a dream do you realize what ignorance really is. It is believing that in the end of your life you will be fully and truly happy. It is believing that regrets can wash away until they no longer exist and that one day you will be smart enough to not have any at all. It is the difference between knowing and truly understanding. I knew what happiness was, and I knew that it was not the same as being content, yet I never understood. Not until it was too late. Not until I had a wife, and grandkids, and a life I had lived with such contentment that it never occurred to me I could be happier. That my story could be different, that it could be mine.

Maybe if I had known everything else wouldn’t have happened the way it did. Maybe I wouldn’t have settled into a life that I thought fit so perfectly, when in reality it was made for someone else. Had I never met her to begin with, that life would have fit. It would have been like slipping on a jacket that was made just for me. Yet in that time I knew her, things changed. I changed. It is inevitable, and while we spend our lives hoping things will change for the better, sometimes they turn out worse.

Sometimes you never really know which way it turns out, because you have nothing to compare it to. I changed, but my life did not, and so it did not fit. There were places where it was a little too loose, places where it was tighter than it had been before.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had sent the text, made the call. Even if you cannot heal the wound you can prevent the scar from becoming infected. Life will still change; the lines of time will still etch themselves onto your features, yet maybe, without the pain, you ‘ll find yourself with something that actually fits.

It should have occurred to me, the day before my wedding, that my mother was right. It probably should have occurred to me sooner. Yet the way I saw it, love was love, and there was no need to look any more deeply than that. As time goes by, you start to realize that loving someone is not all that matters. There is so much more to love, so many other layers, that while the most basic love is easiest, it is not the most satisfying. It is not the love that gives you butterflies, or fills your heart so much you feel as if it is growing. It is nothing but mere contentment. Peace in your life. It is like loving a friend, or a relative. There is no passion, no extreme emotion. While that may be safer, while that may make things easier, it does not necessarily make them better. I had wanted the deep love that my parents had, and in my search for it, I fear I may have missed out on it entirely.

I place my hands onto the railings of the bridge, only this time, there are deep lines and loose skin, where once they had been the hands of a young man. I am old now, on the outskirts of life, reflecting on that which I have become. I have gotten everything I wanted out of life, yet in the end, I realize that it does not matter. I love my wife. That is a truth which cannot be denied. My love for her is not lesser than the love I felt towards Hadlee. It is however; so completely different I am not sure they can be compared at all. The love I have with Audrey is that of a lighthouse, a beacon of safety casting its light and always guiding me home. The emotion I felt for Hadlee was the water itself, a strong current that drew me in before I could realize just how dangerous it was.

It would be an understatement to say that my time with Hadlee changed me. There are few people who can shift your vision of the world. Few people who can open your eyes and make the inner workings of life a clearer vision. I would not change my past. I would not even change my present. Everything that happens, happens because we make it that way. Some decisions may be better than others, but that does not mean they should stay tainted in regret. I spent many years of my life wondering what if. Many years where I imagined things differently, pictured my life a different way. The time you spend imagining things differently only wastes the time you have. The time you have to live, to make your life what you wish of it.

My life has been greater knowing Hadlee. I do not know what happened to her, where she ended up. I thought of searching for her, a few times. Just to see what she had made of herself. If she had joined a band, if she was a pianist, if she was something different altogether. If she had a family, children. There were times when I sat at my computer and typed her name into the search engine, yet I could never continue. At the last second I would always realize that I did not want to know. She was a series of perfectly preserved memories, and knowing what had happened to her would shatter

those. It was better to wonder, to imagine, to hope that her life was everything she had wanted it to be.

I look out at the city, with its towering buildings, and unlike before, I feel large. As if the city is small, as if it could not possibly understand the complexities of life. The buildings are just buildings, the roads just roads. I wonder if maybe my father did feel it after all. Hadlee had said that once we lose our ignorance, we cannot get it back, and that is true. Yet what if we still had it? What if in that moment, it was not gone yet, just faded enough that we thought it was? Perhaps you do not truly lose your ignorance. Perhaps when you do, it does not make you lighter, as if now that you finally understand, you can be happy. The way my father looked out at the city, as if it was his. I would like to think that he was truly happy. That he did not feel small, but large, as if the city really was his to hold. That in those last days of his life, he was not content, but deeply happy, the kind that makes your heart so full it could explode.

I listened to the water beating against the bridge, and my heart felt calm. Not the kind of contentment that came from settling, but the kind of calm that settles every part of your body and clears your mind. Cars rushed by behind me, the sound of them muffled in the night air. I turned to leave when I saw it. It flashed by me, headlights blinking in the darkness, and I smiled to myself.

“One.”