NEW YORK, SUMMER 2005
Series: Tales of cities
By Pierre Scordia
New York, New York… here I am! New York…
Jonathan had arrived in Newark, New Jersey. Passing through border control was so easy this time. What a difference since he had acquired Canadian nationality! Could it be that Americans love their northern neighbours? He still clearly remembered the lukewarm welcome the Yankees used to give him when he was travelling on a French passport. This time, he was only asked about his destination: just one question, if you please! He even detected a hint of a smile. No stamp, no interview, no fingerprint, no photo, no suspicion, no condescension, no expiry date. He could stay as long as he chose to in this El Dorado. Would the Bush regime be more welcoming than the Clinton administration, he wondered?
It was 6pm and David, his brother, was waiting to welcome him outside the terminal. They greeted each other with a brief hug. They’d never been especially close. Jon asked about his mother, why was she not there? He was rather surprised to learn she was attending a vernissage in Rome, so their reunion would be delayed. “Quite extravagant”, he thought to himself.
Once in the parking lot, they put the two suitcases in the big 4X4 boot and got into the car. Next to the steering wheel stood a large, half empty Starbucks cardboard cup. En route they were slowed down by heavy traffic. After two hours they finally reached Hoboken, only about ten miles from the airport. Nevertheless, the long ride allowed them to catch up after all these years of mutual silence. David was new to this city too; he had moved from California in 2004 and since that day had been going through a rough time. His wife had been depressed since they moved to New Jersey and his company was in the process of laying off a third of their staff.
“And how is my niece doing?” Jonathan inquired. David hadn’t yet mentioned his 18-month-old toddler. “Yeah, she’s adorable, a little hyperactive though. To be honest, we would have preferred a childless life. But hey you know, pressure of the forties… biological clock ticking…” David revealed how his wife couldn’t bear the huge responsibility of motherhood. David was doing everything in his power to make her life easier. They were sending their daughter to an upscale crèche that cost them $1,500 a month and Dave regularly called on the Australian babysitter who lived a block away from them. Thanks to the staff at the crèche, their daughter could understand a little Spanish in addition to English and French. Yet nothing David did could lift his wife’s spirits. The thought of the next two decades in which she’d have to put her daughter’s life before her own depressed her. She felt as if she’d been condemned to 20 years in jail.
However, when Jon met Jackie in the beautiful 4-room apartment overlooking the Hudson River and Manhattan’s West Side, she looked great – happy and enthusiastic. She was carrying her daughter in her arms and greeted him with a big American smile and a touch of sarcasm: “How are you honey? Welcome to New Jersey”. As soon as she was put down, little Rachel toddled in all directions, making the travel weary Jon feel dizzy. David and Jackie’s dog, a small Cocker spaniel, started barking which added further to the cacophony and feeling of disorder.
Never mind, Jon was in New York and this was what mattered. It was a dream come true. His return ticket was scheduled for September but he didn’t give this a single thought. Champagne flowed that first evening and the hot and humid air of July combined with the panoramic view of the lights of Manhattan were magical. The whole thing exuded joy, intensifying his passion for life, desire for success and infectious thirst for fun.
***
He spent his first few days exploring the city and looking for a suitable gym. He found one near Port Authority on 42nd Street. For nothing in the world would he neglect his body, knowing appearance matters a great deal in the Big Apple. Not only do you have to be good looking but you also need to be physically impressive in order to survive. Competition is high and ruthless.
Jonathan was utterly enchanted by the city: its vertiginous architecture, its hectic energy, its extroverted people with their mental alertness and inexhaustible greed. Each day, he discovered a new neighbourhood on the island. He felt completely at home, in osmosis with New York. He had a deep conviction that his life would take a decisive turn right here.
GREENWICH VILLAGE
One Saturday afternoon, he entered a cosy café in Greenwich Village, ordered an Americano, sat down and took his notebook and a pen out of his bag. Elbows on the table, he was hoping for inspiration. Jon had already written a novel but failed to get published. Out of thirteen submissions, his manuscript had passed through eight house reading committees, resulting in four rejection letters, the most beautifully written ones. So in the end, his dream of being a writer hadn’t come true. He had taken the hint and decided to move on from his Canadian chapter. He was disappointed by Canada and the US would certainly be more auspicious.
He considered what might appeal to readers… Perhaps he could write a sort of urban and erotic Harry Potter in order to attract female readers? He was convinced that women read more than men. One only needed to secretly observe people in the underground to notice that it was the women who read novels. Men had less patience and preferred reading newspapers when they weren’t checking out the talent.
But that afternoon, it was Jonathan who got checked out. A man two tables away was staring at him. He too must have been writing since he had a notebook with tattered corners beside the cup on his table. Was he looking for inspiration by observing Jonathan’s face? Jonathan couldn’t help smiling. Fifteen minutes later, Jonathan arose and asked this total stranger if he could keep an eye on his belongings while he went to the bathroom. The man smiled briefly yet warmly and nodded. When Jonathan returned, the stranger began to question him:
– Where do you come from?
– Just from the restroom, Jon replied with a wink.
– “Restroom” … I don’t know that country.
– How do you know I am not from here?
– A New Yorker would never leave his stuff unattended nor ask a complete stranger to look after it.
– But you’re not a complete stranger.
– Oh really?
– Are you not my guardian angel?
– You are quite the comedian. Let me introduce myself: Gabriel Lopez Dixon. But feel free to call me Angel Gabriel. He said it with a mischievous smile, revealing a perfect set of beautiful white teeth.
– Jonathan Rosen, but please call me Jon.
– Are you a writer, Jon?
– Like you are, I believe. May I join you?
They talked for hours. They realized they had much in common and even shared some passions: a similar spiritual quest, belief in positive thinking, writing, a yearning for success, love for New York City and a keen interest in languages. Both were trilingual. Jon spoke fluent Spanish which surprised his Puerto Rican acquaintance – despite his fair complexion Gabriel was from Puerto Rico but had moved to New York a long time ago. Like so many of the New York elite, Gabriel was a Francophile; he spoke enough French to get by and was able to read it fluently. This came in handy at work where he had to deal with many French clients.
– You know Jon, in my company we are looking for someone who has exactly the same profile as yours, a native French person, sociable, entrepreneurial, charming, convincing, imaginative, creative and trilingual in French, English and Spanish. Until today I’d thought it impossible to find this rare gem in New York.
– Really? There are a ton of them in Quebec. You should recruit in Montreal. Trilingual Canadian of French origin like me, you’ll hire them in spades.
– Canadian? Are you really Canadian? Wow, that’s interesting…. This might seem a little sudden to you, but would you be interested in my proposal by any chance? To work for my company?
A huge smile lit up Jonathan’s face. His ecstatic appearance gave away his answer despite the hesitation in his reply.
– It requires some thought… Are you really my angel?
– Destiny has put you in my path.
– That goes without saying. I’ll think about it. Your offer is very tempting.
– Do you like New York City?
– Yes, I do. It feels like the new Rome of the 21st century, don’t you think?
– Would you agree to meet Angela, my boss, she’s an amazing woman. You will love her. I’m sure.
– Why not? There’s no harm in meeting her.
– Fantastic! I’ll call her straight away.
Gabriel pulled out his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialled Angela’s number, but there was no answer.
– Oh no, I completely forgot. She’s away for a few days in London. She’ll be back in a few days.
– No worries. What’s the vacancy you’d like me to fill?
– What are your plans for tomorrow? Do you have any?
– Nothing special. Why are you asking?
– OK then, let’s meet up tomorrow. Meet me outside the subway entrance on 28th Street at 3 pm and I’ll tell you all about the company.
They chatted non-stop all the way to Penn Station and were both surprised to find they had arrived at their destination. There, they exchanged numbers, hugged briefly and went their separate ways.
“Life is beautiful! Life becomes magical when you think positively”. “Wherever I go, I get lucky. I always bounce back.” Jonathan was saying to himself while walking along Broadway. Just then, his cell phone began to ring; it was his sister-in-law, her voice panicky and trembling. She begged him to come home as soon as possible.
HOBOKEN – NJ
When he arrived at the apartment in Hoboken, Jackie confessed that she had lost little Rachel. She couldn’t remember where she had left her.
– How is this possible Jackie?
– I have no idea. Honestly, I really don’t know. I might have been sitting on a bench, the stroller by my side. Rachel was probably sleeping and in a moment of absent-mindedness, I must have walked off without her.
They set out to comb the neighbourhood and local parks. After twenty long minutes, they found Rachel abandoned in her pushchair, still napping. His sister-in-law sobbed uncontrollably.
– Promise me not to tell Dave. Do you promise me? she insisted.
– Yes, I won’t say a word.
– Thanks honey.
As her guest, he felt he had no other choice.
At nightfall, David returned from work. He inquired whether they had both had a good day. Jon gave a very enthusiastic account of his chance encounter. His brother and sister-in-law thought he’d been offered a great opportunity not to be missed. ‘The world’s financial capital opens its arms in welcome to those who are ambitious and courageous’, Dave and his wife reassured Jonathan. They extended a warm invitation for him to live with them as long as he needed to. David then asked about Jackie’s day and if she had attended her appointment with her analyst. Jonathan was taken aback.
– Oh, I didn’t know you had a shrink…
A slight uneasiness filled the room. David revealed that Jackie experienced disturbing visions where she saw herself strangling their baby. Jonathan felt goosebumps rise though remained silent. He excused himself, saying he felt sleepy, and went up to bed.
SOHO
The next day, he received a text from Gabriel suggesting a change of plan, “Meet me outside the Subway station on 23rd Street (lines 1, 2, 3) at 2pm”.
For their second meeting, Jonathan’s “guardian angel” was warm, jolly and full of energy throughout the afternoon and evening. He showed him Midtown and some parts of Downtown, treated him to a late lunch and at the end of the day, took him to a stylish bar for cocktails, where the waiters were bare chested with muscled physiques.
– So my friend, would you like to settle down in the Big Apple?
– I would love that. That would be a dream comes true.
– Well, you just need to ask for it. Go ahead! Repeat after me: I am in New York and Manhattan is my home. Don’t be shy, say it out loud!
– OK sure. I am in New York and Manhattan is my home.
– Say it again with more conviction. Wishes are only granted if you truly believe in them. Close your eyes, concentrate and visualize yourself living in Manhattan.
Jon closed his eyes as he was told and pictured himself working and strolling through New York. Gabriel beamed from ear to ear and his deep, dark, brown eyes were shining.
– There you are. You see, it’s not so difficult to reach your goal in life when you genuinely believe in your abilities. By the way I spoke to Angela and she agreed to meet you the day after tomorrow.
CHELSEA
Two days later, Gabriel accompanied Jonathan to the offices of New Amsterdam Home on 28th Street, but stopped short of entering the building.
– Sorry, I have to leave now. We’ll speak tomorrow on the phone, OK?
– Oh! OK.
– Or, let’s meet up in Greenwich Village. Will text you anyway.
Jonathan passed through spacious and bright offices. He could hear different languages being spoken. The receptionist asked him to sit down and wait until Angela was ready for him. Just a few minutes later the receptionist led him to the CEO’s smart, bright office.
Angela was nothing like the woman he had imagined; she was neither impressive nor cold. In fact, Angela was a tall, plump, redheaded woman who seemed warm and benevolent. She came forward with a smile, shook his hand cordially and said in a soft voice, “Delighted to meet you, Jonathan”.
They got along right away. She briefly explained to him what his role would entail in the company and then they moved on to different topics. They found they had much in common. Three hours went by in a flash as they discussed philosophy.
She finally put an end to their animated conversation by asking:
– Could you start working for us next week?
– Sure… but there is a hitch.
– A hitch? She said, raising her right eyebrow.
– What I mean is that I don’t yet have a work permit.
– That’s not a problem, Angela said lightly, gesturing with her left hand as if to brush it away. Our lawyer will deal with this tiny detail. He’ll take full care of your application. It’s not a problem. If we run into any difficulties, we’ll simply hire you as a consultant. So, my dear Jonathan, I am very much looking forward to seeing you next Monday at 10am, when I’ll introduce you to your team.
At that moment in time, Jonathan no longer knew whether he was living reality or a daydream. Could life be this easy? Was it really enough to simply believe in what you wish to achieve in order to get there? As he walked away from the office, he was propelled along in a bubble of intoxication, completely unaware of the noise in the street. He felt light and joyful. He had finally made his dream come true; he was now living in the most exciting megalopolis in the world. Meeting Gabriel in the Greenwich café had truly been a blessing, a gift from the Gods.
TWO MONTHS LATER – SEPTEMBER 2005
The atmosphere in the apartment became tense. Dave and Jackie frequently argued about their daughter. Jackie repeatedly reproached her husband bitterly for having insisted she keep the child when she fell pregnant. Had they not had their daughter, they could have lived in Manhattan instead of becoming Bridge and Tunnel commuters. New Yorkers had a running joke that New Jersey folk were crude and unsophisticated.
– Jon, why are New Yorkers so depressed?
– I don’t know.
– Because at the end of the tunnel there is New Jersey.
“What’s the point of living in this megalopolis if you don’t take advantage of all that New York has to offer?”, Jackie mused. “The suburbs are a huge greyish world, dull, cold and boring where you feel isolated, even though Manhattan is a mere 15 minutes away.” Jackie mourned the loss of her old, exhilarating life; the birth of her daughter had condemned her to motherhood duties: cooking, washing, cleaning, shopping, attending school meetings, worrying… until the day came when she’d become old and fat without realizing it, only to find out her husband had become infatuated with a younger, bubbly, far more attractive woman.
***
The reality of working at New Amsterdam Home was a huge disappointment. First of all, a working permit was far harder to obtain than anticipated because the Bush administration placed an annual cap on the number of visas issued, even for Canadians. Then, the office environment was highly stressful; Angela’s right-hand man, Francis, was a real asshole who demanded that all the staff devote themselves day and night to making New Amsterdam Home the leader in the real estate market. Several colleagues were jealous of Jon’s new position and, to add to his already high workload, he was required to take a law course to obtain his New York Licence as a Real Estate Agent. The young man felt completely overwhelmed and exhausted at the end of each day.
Strangely enough, Jon had not once seen Gabriel at work though they regularly talked on the phone. They often laughed together – they had fallen into a bad habit of gossiping and making fun of all the company employees. Trusting this new complicity, Jon raised some concerns: how his health insurance was due to expire in a week’s time and how he felt deeply concerned by the sheer number of work deadlines he was being given. Gabriel, silent at first, then reassured him by saying all the right things:
– “You can’t move forwards with fear. Insurance? Why spend so much money when you are young and so full of life. Think only positively! We create our own story. My advice: be a go-getter, stay happy and optimistic whatever the situation. You’ll succeed, I have no doubt about it whatsoever.”
Gabriel was turning a little more into a guru with each passing day.
***
As the weeks went by, using tunnels and bridges became a daily routine. The nocturnal fights between his brother and sister-in-law, the cocker spaniel’s constant barking, the buzz of the city, truck horns, deafening police and fire brigade sirens, the loud hum from the New York Subway’s ventilation system and shouting and swearing from stressed out New Yorkers were a constant soundtrack in Jon’s frazzled brain. At work, he still hadn’t yet mastered all the know-how. Francis was constantly on his back and Angela seemed more and more elusive and aloof. Stress became a natural part of his routine and days at the office got ever longer. He hadn’t yet been paid and deep exhaustion set in. Resting became impossible. All these terrible compromises seeped into his body and soul.
He spent the weekends on his own, or occasionally with a date. He liked to wander alone in this city he continued to love so much, despite his struggle to integrate. But one Sunday, he arranged a lunch with an acquaintance from his Montreal days.
HARLEM
On a beautiful sunny September day, when the weather was dry and pleasant, like it had been on 9/11, Dan invited him for a brunch on a flower-decked terrace on Malcom X boulevard. The two men shared a long, intense hug as if they had been through something terrible together. As they approached the chic, warmly lit bar Dan suggested, “Let’s revive our friendship with two Bloody Marys.”
Dan smiled at Jon with the stunning smile you only find in African American metrosexual men. He was dressed casually but smartly in an Abercrombie & Fitch polo and slim fitting jeans. He was 5 foot 10, muscular, with fine facial features and black, smooth skin. Had he been taller, he could certainly have been a successful model.
– I wanted to thank you properly for your help the night I was run down in Montreal. Without you, I would have had serious complications on my right knee.
– Please don’t, there’s no need. You should instead thank that doctor who so kindly treated you for free.
– Since the accident, I find that people are insufficiently aware of how lucky they are to be able to walk without pain. Body mobility is actually a miracle when you think about it.
– Yes, I agree. By the way, what was the name of the doctor who treated you?
– I don’t remember his name… A name finishing in “el”, perhaps? I wrote it down somewhere. I am sure I wrote it down. I’ll check when I get home. Anyway, changing the subject, do you enjoy living in New York?
– Yes, I love it. It’s like a dream come true.
– Life in New York is great but you need certain qualities to survive: a willingness to work hard, the ability to earn a good income, saving, investing, being tough inside while looking approachable and friendly to everyone you meet.
The year before, while taking a photo at the corner of St-Denis Street and Sherbrooke Avenue in Montreal, Dan had been run over by a speeding scooter whose driver immediately fled the scene. Dan had been in shock and his knee was bleeding badly. Jonathan, who witnessed the incident, took Dan to Saint-Luc Hospital where he was treated by a caring and benevolent doctor. Jonathan stayed all night with Dan at the hospital. Ever since, a strong friendship bound the two men.
Their conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing two large plates of Jambalaya, a typical dish from the southern United States.
– Jonathan, are you okay? You seem a little pale to me.
– Yeah, it’s probably nothing. It must be the Tabasco, I put a little too much in the Bloody Mary.
– Please eat. It will do you good. Ah… you Frenchmen… only used to drinking wine!
Both begin their hearty dish, a sort of spicy American paella, a fusion of Spanish, African and French cuisine from Louisiana.
– Jonathan, have you been following the news lately? Did you see what happened with Katrina?
– Yes, terrible!
– And a total disgrace! New Orleans is one of my all-time favourite cities. You know what will happen next, the Republicans are going to take advantage of all the chaos to make it a white city. It will look more like a big theme park, like Disneyland. They will do nothing whatsoever to encourage the return of black people who fled and moved to Texas or northern Louisiana.
– Do you really believe that?
– Of course! Never forget that this country is fundamentally racist, especially in the former confederation states. American people will never vote for a black president. One day, they will put in power a racist billionaire, a complete asshole who will be a pawn of the NRA, you wait and see! To be elected in this country, you have to be super rich, corrupt, in love with guns, appearing uneducated and above all with a simplistic, direct speech style. The average American is a sucker for it!
– One always tends to be more critical when judging one’s own country. Personally, I think of America as the place where everything is possible. It’s the land of opportunities and freedom where the State doesn’t intrude – there’s less red tape and fewer taxes here than anywhere I’ve ever been.
– That’s because you’re white. Your view is biased. Let me remind you that 40 years ago we had an apartheid system here in the US. Moreover, this freedom you speak of exists only from a European point of view. Think of the First Nations, their freedoms have been destroyed by the insatiable greed of white entrepreneurs.
– I think you are harsh in your analysis. I don’t think America has been guided by any particular racist doctrine. I believe that the paradigms were based only on enrichment, the desire to improve one’s own life. All societies have been steeped in slavery, whether African, Arab, Asian or European. Only those who acquire technological superiority manage to prosper by dominating others. Therein lies the tragedy of the human condition and…
Jonathan’s impressive delivery was interrupted by a sharp pain in his chest.
– Are you OK? asked Dan, looking worried.
– Not really… I have pain in my chest and left arm… It’s probably because I did weights at the gym.
– When were you last at the gym?
– Yesterday evening.
– Perhaps it’s just muscle pain. You must have pulled something.
Jon felt another pain and an urge to go to the bathroom. He needed to evacuate one way or another. He apologized to Dan and went to the loos… he was sweating. He remembered his father’s death. His dad had died of a heart attack at the age of 45; his body was found lying on the floor in the restroom during a heat wave in Paris. Was history about to repeat itself? Once back at the table, Jonathan, anxious, described his symptoms, how the sharp pang in his heart made him think of his father’s sudden death.
– We’ll take a Yellow Cab to the hospital in Harlem, it’s the closest to here. Best to be on the safe side. What’s your brother’s number?
Jonathan gave it to him. Dan paid the bill and immediately hailed a taxi right outside the restaurant. He called David to explain the situation.
– Poor Jon. Dan, thanks for letting me know. What hospital are you going to?
– North General Hospital.
– Nope! Take my brother to Mount Sinai on Madison Avenue.
– I think the one in Harlem would be better because it’s closer.
– No, listen carefully to what I’m telling you: take him to the Sinai. The Jews will take better care of my brother. Do you understand?
– OK. Got it.
– Can you put me onto Jon please.
– Look, make sure he takes you to Mount Sinai Hospital.
– I have a problem.
– Yes, I know. But everything will be fine. You will be in good hands. Actually, the best.
– No, it’s regarding my health insurance.
– What about it? What’s wrong with your insurance?
– It expired last week.
– Don’t worry. Just give a fake address. You won’t be the first to do that.
MOUNT SINAI – EAST HARLEM
On arrival at Mount Sinai, the two friends were led directly to the emergency room. They didn’t have to wait. They explained the problem to a kindly, capable black nurse. She asked a few questions and then inquired if Jon had valid health insurance. She assigned a bed to Jonathan, put him on a drip, took a blood sample and finally checked his blood pressure.
Dan who was away during Jon’s medical check-up, came back and told him:
– I’m sorry, unfortunately I cannot stay longer. I just called your brother and he’s asked you to call him tomorrow morning.
– If I’m in a fit state to do so; who knows what will happen during the night…
– Don’t worry, everything will be just fine. This is an excellent hospital. You’re in the best hands in the country. I bought a book this morning from a store not far from here. I’ll leave it with you, to pass the time.
Now Jon was alone, lying on his hospital bed, fretting about what might happen next. He felt a certain bitterness, a feeling of being abandoned and a sudden intense dread of dying alone. He had never imagined that he could pass away so young. Could it be that his life ends like this, fizzling out… without having achieved anything? His passage on Earth would be as meaningless and ridiculous as that of a cockroach crushed underfoot. He looked at the book Dan had given him. It was about mysticism: “The Power of Kabbalah”. He opened it and read the first page. It mentioned the flame, the energy that sustains life. He realized that his own flame was slowly fading away, due to so many disappointments, despite him having seized all the opportunities that life presented to him. “Life is a bitch” would be the title of his book if he were to write a story at that moment.
The nurse came back with the results of the preliminary tests.
– Excuse me for asking this, but, do you happen to eat sometimes?
– Why are you asking?
– You have almost no potassium in your blood. We’re going to have to put you in intensive care. You have all the signs of a heart attack. The doctor will come to examine you shortly. Ah, here he comes!
He was a young, good looking, dark-haired doctor of medium height, with round glasses.
– Hello Jonathan, are you insured?
– Yes, and I am Canadian.
– OK, we’ll keep you under medical observation tonight and then tomorrow morning, we’ll carry out further tests: MRI and cardiovascular tests. Alright?
– OK, thank you.
The night seemed interminable. “Will I get a massive heart attack?” Fearful thoughts and images ran through his head. He did not even have the strength to continue reading the book, so much anxiety engulfed him. He weighed every minute of this long, uncomfortable night. The bitterness was such that his eyes remained dry; even his own mother, busy with her mundane activities, would not show up, he thought miserably.
Finally, a new day dawned. Nurses and doctors entered the room. He did an MRI, a scan and a stress test. Around noon, a young red-haired doctor came in and told him in a very soft voice that although he seemed to have had all the symptoms of a heart attack, his heart was in perfect condition. A miracle! He asked Jonathan to arrange a follow-up appointment with a heart physician on his return to Canada. In the meantime, he prescribed 75mg aspirins to take daily. On discharge, Jonathan gave a false address, just as his brother had advised.
Outside the hospital, the buzz in the street reassured him: “Life goes on”, he mused. He took the subway towards New Jersey. His cell phone rang and rang but he didn’t pick up. When he finally checked it, he saw that it was Francis. On the train, he mulled over the advice given by the nice red-haired doctor, “On your return to Canada…”. Had he just been given the answer to his problems? A way to put an end to the incessant stress? He observed his fellow passengers; they all seemed nervous, restless, somewhat aggressive, busy and determined. He felt as though he were the only dolphin in an aquarium full of circling sharks.
NEW JERSEY
On arrival at his brother’s house, his sister-in-law welcomed him with a big hug. Could he look after Rachel for the rest of the day so she could have some free time to spend alone on the other side of the Hudson River? Fifteen minutes later, and she had already made her escape.
He was all alone with the fractious toddler. He took her into his arms and she immediately relaxed. His phone rang. Again, it was a call from Francis. In spite of feeling very sleepy he decided not to procrastinate. Talking to his manager felt to him like an unpleasant chore he must get out of the way as quickly as possible.
– So, what’s going on? Are you quitting?
– No, I’ve just been ill.
– What’s wrong?
– I had an attack of angina pectoris and spent the night in hospital.
There was a long silence, followed by a deep sigh on the other end of the line.
– Jon, I’ll be straight with you. I don’t think you are suited to this position.
– I couldn’t agree more.
– Well, glad we agree on that!
– When can I come by to collect my salary?
– What salary? You failed to achieve the set goals.
– I’ve worked for more than two months, and made a significant contribution to the restructuring of the flat sharing service.
– Sorry, without an H1B visa I am afraid we cannot pay you. There was nothing our lawyer could do to help with this.
He hung up before Jonathan had time to reply.
“A rotten world”, he thought miserably, but his exhaustion was such that his thoughts went no further. Knackered, he dropped onto the bed, with little Rachel now sleeping peacefully in his arms. He immediately dived into the unconscious world. The world of healing sleep and sweet dreams was the best place to be right now.
***
He felt small hands on his face. He struggled to open his eyes and wondered where he was. Rachel was tugging at his nose and ears. He felt very tired but the baby girl’s smiling face gave him some comfort. He smiled back at her. At the same time, he heard the front door slam and soft footsteps on the wooden floor. It was his brother.
– Hi Jon, how are you doing?
– Hi Dave, I’ve just got fired from my job.
– I am truly sorry to hear that, but between us, it’s really a blessing in disguise. You are simply not made for New York. You’re far too gentle for this city.
– Oh really?
– Intact.
– How’s your heart?
– What a relief! Did you give a false address as I told you to?
– Yes, I did.
– Will you return to Canada?
Jonathan looked at his phone. He hadn’t received a single call since the last one from Francis. Not even Gabriel. He responded to David with a sigh.
– I don’t know yet.
ON THE BANKS OF HUDSON RIVER
He went outside to get some fresh air and sat down heavily on a bench in the small park overlooking the Hudson River. He calmly observed the enormous island of Manhattan on the other side that no longer held any attraction for him. A dark-haired young man arrived and asked if he could sit next to him. The stranger seemed to want to chat.
– Are you from here?
– No, from Canada.
– I am from Montevideo. Do you know Uruguay?
– Just opposite Argentina, isn’t it?
– Yes, on the North shore of Rio de la Plata. Montevideo is a beautiful city, with stunning sandy beaches and a magnificent austral blue sky. Are you a tourist in New York?
– No, I tried to settle in but failed.
– Sorry to hear that. It’s a suffocating city. In New York, people are crammed like rats in filthy accommodation with exorbitant rents. What’s more, the climate is unbearable with its humidity in summer and freezing winter winds! The people are rude and unfriendly, only interested in their career and making money.
– So why are you here then?
– The ego, man. And hope. I’ve always believed that life would be better elsewhere. My whole life I have dreamed of New York. It took me a long while to save up for a trip to the US. I stopped off at Miami, ending up staying there for a year. Then, once my English got better, I took the leap. Believe it or not my family and friends who stayed in Montevideo envy me, fools that they are! If they only knew that they live so much better than me.
– Why don’t you go back to your country then?
– I cannot return to Uruguay without having succeeded here.
– What are you doing for a living?
– I am a qualified mechanical engineer but here I work as a waiter in a tapas bar.
– Why work in a restaurant if you are a skilled graduate?
– I still haven’t managed to get my Green Card. But I take full responsibility for my choices.
This bitter and jaded man seemed to have been placed in his path by destiny; on returning to the flat, he announced to his brother that he would be going home to Canada in three days’ time.
***
For Jon’s last few days in New York, a lighter mood returned to the apartment and Jackie seemed more positive, even optimistic. However Gabriel’s ongoing silence bothered him; he was not answering Jon’s calls, text messages, nor emails. Had he so easily given up on their friendship? Had he stopped talking to him because he had failed? This possibility saddened him, aggravated his fatigue, made his complexion paler and even took away the habitual sparkle from his green eyes.
PORT AUTHORITY – MIDTOWN
The departure was surprisingly emotional, even heart-breaking. Jackie sobbed and clung to him, while David, dropping him off on 42nd Street near Port Authority, showed no emotion at all.
– Call me when you arrive in Montreal.
– Okay, I will. Thanks so much for your hospitality.
In the Greyhound bus, Jonathan sat on a window seat towards to the rear. The bus was only half full: young backpackers, some older Latinos and many Haitians. The bus was not super comfortable, nothing like the luxurious coaches you could find in South America. The last images of Manhattan scrolled past his window seat until the bus disappeared into Lincoln Tunnel. A feeling of failure and sadness overwhelmed him. A few tears ran down his cheeks. Had he wasted his last opportunity to make something of his life? He had all the talent needed to succeed in this “New Rome”, but he was simply not up for the job. Jonathan found himself feeling weakened and diminished. From now on, he would have to limit his ambitions and settle for a more provincial version of the Big Apple, Montreal or Toronto at best.
The journey back was long and tiring. Arriving in Saratoga Springs in Upstate New York, he received a text message from Dan.
“Hi Jon, I hope you are well and have fully recovered. Very sorry for not having been able to stay with you in the hospital. I just checked the doctor’s name in my 2004 diary. Strangely enough, he didn’t give me his last name. I only noted his first name: Gabriel, like the archangel… Anyway, he was an angel to me.”
Reading the text sent a shiver down Jonathan’s spine. It was true that there was an uncanny resemblance between the two men. He closed his eyes for a short while, trying hard to remember, and realised that the Montreal doctor was Gabriel’s double, ten years older perhaps. He was flabbergasted. What a strange coincidence!
***
After six hours on the road, the bus finally reached the Canadian border. Jon felt a surge of relief when he saw the maple leaf flag, symbol of a fairer and more compassionate society than that of the US. As soon as he crossed the border, the energy felt different. Autumn had already settled in and the fresh, clean air calmed and soothed him. A tiny feeling of boredom invaded his body, slowing and softening his heart beats.
Thankfully the Canadian customs officers didn’t ask him for anything. He checked his cell phone and saw a message from David. “Please call me back as soon as possible, we lost Rachel. Jackie is being interrogated by the police. She is suspected of having abandoned her. If only I had known she was capable of such a thing, I would have helped her more with her debilitating bouts of depression.”
A deep feeling of guilt washed over Jon. He quickly climbed back into the bus and returned to his window seat.
***
He chose not to call his brother back. Through the tinted window of a bus travelling in the opposite direction, he thought he saw Gabriel, wearing designer sunglasses. Jon waved to him. The stranger gave a hint of a smile. Or was it a smirk?
2022©Pierre Scordia
Thank you to Annie Clein for her great proofreading.
A French version is available : New York, été 2005
