CHAPTER SIX
Dex
“Excuse me, sir, are you all right?”
The quiet but concerned voice brought everything into focus. I found myself staring into the eyes of a hipster. That was my first thought, anyway. She was wearing a plaid, short-sleeved collared shirt, had close-cropped hair and lime green glasses that didn’t seem to have lenses. Oh and a septum nose ring.
I blinked at her a few times, stupidly. Behind her the brown buildings of Brooklyn gradually appeared, like the whole world was being painted into place. Well, Brooklyn certainly explained the hipster.
It did not explain why I was standing on the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge, hands gripped to the railing of the pedestrian walkway like a fucking loon.
“Are you tripping?” she asked.
The polite, earnest way she said that made me laugh.
I most certainly was tripping. I had no fucking idea why I was in New York City. In fact, I think I finally, finally lost my damn mind. I’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
“Doctor put me on new meds,” I lied. “Can’t seem to figure out how I got here.”
She smiled at me, a lot warmer now. I’d wrongly assumed she was a lesbian, now she seemed to be into me. “Where are you from?” she asked slyly, which only cemented the suspicion.
“Seattle,” I said. “I’m on vacation with my girlfriend,” I added quickly as I felt the blood drain out of me. Jesus crackers, where the fuck was Perry? How the hell did I get here? I had way too many questions to keep inside my brain and I was afraid that if I spent another minute with this woman, I was going to say something that would get me committed. Unless being tits-up crazy was suddenly cool. It wasn’t when I was young.
She smiled still, though not as open as before, shot down. “Cool. Well, hope you enjoy the city. And I hope your new meds work out.”
She gave me a wave and continued on her way toward Brooklyn, lost in the stream of people walking to and fro.
Now that she was gone, I could breathe. AKA, not breathe, AKA freak the fuck out.
Think, you idiot, I told myself, adjusting my cap against the glare of the sun. Why the hell was it so warm here?
And, once again, why the hell was I in New York?
I tried to think back and couldn’t remember anything except being in Portland at Perry’s parent’s house.
A flash of a familiar face came across my mind, but my instincts couldn’t be correct.
Why did I have the feeling that I saw my brother Michael at some point? That was as likely as Kim Kardashian’s ass being real. I hadn’t seen him since, well, since we were teenagers.
And yet I kept seeing him, as he would be today. A tall, dark, handsome asshole in a suit. Not as handsome as me, but close enough. And with the thought of him came this feeling that maybe I really was tripping out. Being alone in NYC, with no memory of how I got there, was bad enough, but it had nothing on the wash of dread that was sinking into my pores.
I shivered to myself and shook my head a few times, trying to shake it off, trying to shake some sense in. None doing. The feeling intensified, like it was just taking root and finding sunlight.
Before I really started to panic, I searched my pocket for my phone.
It was gone.
Shitballs.
I was alone in NYC, I kept feeling like the world was going to end at any moment, and I didn’t even have my phone, or a wallet. I only had my wits and I was starting to think those were in short supply.
“Dex!”
It was Perry’s voice, soft as satin sheets. I turned around, my eyes scanning the aloof people walking past but I didn’t see her anywhere.
Had I even heard her? I looked again, harder, searching each person, my ears trained for her voice. Suddenly I was hit with an overwhelming sense of urgency. It wasn’t that my situation wasn’t scary – it was. Ask any drunk the next morning when they don’t know where they are.
But in the back of my mind, I’d already been rationalizing everything. I must have blacked out for one reason or another but I had to have come to New York with Perry. I don’t know why we came here or when but we would have come together.
We would have had to. The girl just agreed to marry me – the crazy fucking girl – and I know I would have not let her out of my sight for a second. She was more precious to me than life itself.
And yet, she wasn’t here. I felt her presence, heard her voice, but it was about as substantial as the air in front of my face. She was nowhere to be seen just as I probably was for her.
My heart decided to take a nose dive.
What if I couldn’t find her?
What if something horrible had happened to her, to us? Every second that ticked past on that bridge, I was getting the feeling that some horrible had happened and the world was just waiting for me to catch on.
I put my hand to my chest and kneaded my knuckles along it, hoping to dispel the nervous energy that was building up. I needed a cigarette to clear my head. I needed a drink to calm my nerves.
I needed Perry just to get by.
I breathed in deeply through my nose, willing the pain in my ribs to go away. I had to have a plan of some sort if I was going to get anywhere. Staring at the throngs of people as they walked past, their attentions utterly focused on the space in front of them, I wondered if anyone would be nice enough to let me borrow their phone to call Perry. I contemplated running after the lime green glasses girl but she was long gone.
Lady luck was smiling at me however. I asked two twenty-something girls in sundresses with cigarettes dangling from their lips if I could bum a smoke. After one of them did, rather begrudgingly, I turned my charms onto the nicer, plumper one and asked if she wouldn’t mind me borrowing her phone for a minute.
This time, mentioning a girlfriend came in handy and once she realized the guy with the ’stache wasn’t getting potentially rapey on her, she gave me her Samsung. I actually had to correct myself and tell her my girlfriend was actually my fiancé now. Man, did that sound both weird and awesome to say that out loud but it seemed to win me a few points, which I hoped would turn into a few extra minutes on the phone.
Turns out I needed them. Perry didn’t answer her phone, even when I called three times in a row. The girl was starting to sigh and look put out, the subtle way to say “dude, get the fuck off the phone” and I grinned nervously at her. “Just one more person to try.”
Actually I had more than a few people to try but since the last place I remembered was the Palominos, I figured that was my best bet. I hated having to ring her parents but hey, I guess they were going to be my parents too one day. They better get used to it. And so should I.
But there was no answer at their house either, which struck me as odd. Usually her mother was home, if not Ada. I left a long, yelling message on the machine.
“Hey, so it’s Dex and sorry to bother you, but if Perry is there I would love to speak to her. I’m in New York City. Not sure how that happened. Anyhoo, I would be much obliged if someone, anyone…Ada…Mr. Palomino…dad? I guess I have to call you dad soon, right? Maybe not. Anyone really, if you would pick up the phone because I think this will be my last call for a while and I can’t seem to find my phone. Or my wallet. Or know what’s going on or how I got here. So yeah. Answering the phone would be great. Hello? Bueller?” Pause. Waiting for them to pick up. “But you won’t do that because you’re not home. That’s fine. I’m busy too. I’m on the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s awesome. There are two young ladies here, one I’m sure has something against mustaches and the other who is giving me a look like she’s sorry she lent me her phone. Well, if I don’t hear from you guys…It’s because I don’t have my cell. I told you that, right? Anyway, I’ll call back. When I can. I might not be able to.” Another pause and this is when I noticed both girls look like they are ten seconds away from blowing their rape whistle and bringing out the pepper spray. “Okay, bye.”
I hung up and gave the phone back to the girl, shooting her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I thought maybe they’d pick up if I started rambling nonsense.”
She stared at me while she tucked the phone in her purse. Then, without saying anything, she and the other girl walked away in a hurry, shooting me anxious glances over their shoulders, as if they’d never left a message like that on a machine before.
I exhaled and watched them go. Well, that was a bust. I decided to start walking to Manhattan, give it a few moments, then try someone else for a phone. Perry had to pick up at some point, I left her more than enough voicemails.
Not if she’s not okay, the thought shot across my head like a bullet. Maybe that’s why you can’t get a hold of her.
Fuck. I clenched and unclenched my fists. What if something had happened to her?
I refused to entertain the thought. I needed to hold it together, not fall apart. As long as I found out she was okay, just to hear her voice, more than anything, then I’d deal with the rest.
But refusing to think about it, didn’t mean I didn’t feel it, that sickness, black and sticky like tar, clinging to the inside of my lungs.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was sprinting down the bridge, urgency pressing through my legs. I was bumping into people, knocking commuters off balance, their cries of anger and annoyance the soundtrack to my pumping limbs but I couldn’t give any fucks. There were no fucks to give. It was like the faster I went, the more I was aware that something horrible was about to go down and all the speed in the world wouldn’t help me.
Or her.
Or anyone.
I was nearly at the place where the bridge promenade swooped into City Hall Park, thinking about one of the last times I was in the area, paying a parking ticket with Maximus back in the way back days, when I felt like my non-existent drug trip just intensified.
There was Maximus, stepping out from the grandiose pillars of the Manhattan Municipal Building, his floppy ginger coif standing out like a red beacon on the end of a flannel stick. He wasn’t even wearing flannel, but that wasn’t the point.
I came to a halt, making sure I was seeing this right. Did I run right into the past? Déjà vu swept over me, momentarily washing that feeling of doom side. How could I just think about him and make him appear? Was I Gandalf?
But it wasn’t just him. It was also Ada. Fucking Little Fifteen Ada Palomino throwing change at a hotdog vendor and trying to catch up with Maximus, all long limbs and bad eye makeup.
What the actual fuck?
Before I could even contemplate just what sort of wizardry was at work here I heard my name being catapulted in my direction.
“Dex!”
It was more of a panicked shriek, but to say it didn’t immediately fill my heart with gold would be lying.
I turned my head to the park and saw Perry, beautiful, crazy Perry, running toward me, about to head straight into traffic.
I let out a yelp, my body frozen from the impending disaster but she managed to skirt in front of the cars which were slowing down as they turned onto the bridge and soon she was on my side of the road, unscathed except for a few people laying on their horns in her wake.
There’s a moment in the movie “10” when Dudley Moore sees Bo Derek running down the beach in slow motion. Most people don’t know what I’m talking about because most people don’t educate themselves with the classics, particularly Blake Edwards, but anyway, this moment rivaled that one.
And that doesn’t trivialize it, believe me, because seeing Perry run toward me, her face scrunched in the sheer desire to reach me, did something to my soul. It grabbed at me, clawed at me, made me realize just how damn empty I’d been without her by my side, even if for a short while. It made me realize I needed to do everything I could to ensure that would never happen again.
“Dex,” she cried out again and in an instant she was in my arms and she was safe and I was safe and the rest of the world could go to hell for all I cared.
I held her close to me as she sobbed into my chest. I wanted to calm her down but at the same time I wasn’t doing so well either. The more she shook in my arms, the more worried I became.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered into the top of her head. “You’re here, I’m here.”
Right?