Somnia | $crim

19. Oneiric

June 1st, 2023

I've missed New York City. Although I didn't graduate from NYU liked I wanted, a piece of me belongs here. The big buildings, crowded sidewalks, noisy streets, and strange aroma will always feel strangely like home.

I'm thirty now. Sadie is in college and Troy is in middle school. But it still feels like yesterday that you were the most important thing to me. In many ways, you still are, even if I try to forget about you when I find my mind wandering at night.

Now, I'm in New York for a much different reason than when I was younger, one I'd say is worth more than graduation. In a different lifetime, I may not have ended up here had I stayed. This week is the Brooklyn Film Festival, where my film, Red, is premiering.

After we broke up, I was able to start making films again. I never went back to school, but, despite everything, your advice about not being stuck in an office until retirement still resonated with me. Most of my films were published on YouTube or other similar sites, as they were all independent, and this is my first that will have a proper theatrical run.

At the airport, I was rehearsing some talking points I wanted to bring up, just in case I had an opportunity with the many magazines attending the festival. Although there were many things left for me to wonder about the week, there was one thing that wasn't on my mind.

You were across from me, Aris standing next to you with his suitcase. I froze, unsure of my next move. I wanted to run into your arms like no time had passed, but the other half of me wanted to turn around and pretend I didn't see you. Fate had other plans when Aris made eye contact with me from across the terminal and waved me over.

"Adrienne!" Aris exclaimed. You had the same mix of emotions I can only imagine I also had on my face. "Of all the airports in the world. What are you doing here?"

You were both almost unrecognizable. Aris had cut his hair and got the face tattoos he swore he'd never get. He finally wasn't perpetually looking at the ground or covering his face. We had kept in touch over the years, but I hadn't seen him since he went to rehab in 2020. We kept this from you, knowing you wouldn't understand why we would still want to be friends. Our conversations were a "Scott-free-zone". He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask. 

You looked good too. You had gained some healthy weight and had shorter hair now, too. If you had asked me a few minutes ago if I liked face tattoos, I'd say you're crazy but it fits you. You look happy, for once.

"The Brooklyn Film Festival is this week. A film I directed is premiering."

"No shit?" Aris said. "That's dope! I'm proud of you."

"It's showing tomorrow at 6pm if you'd like to attend," I replied. Aris always liked movies, so I knew he'd be over the moon at any film festival. You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure.

"We can't-" you started to say but Aris cut you off and said both of you would be there.

Perplexed by the strange interaction, I left the terminal and made my way to the hotel, only to quickly leave again for the first day of the festival.

Red is a thirty-minute experimental film that I started writing in high school. It started out as just journaling my feelings, but once I learned more about writing scripts and filmmaking, it quickly evolved into a story about loss. The loss of my dad, the loss of my mom, the loss of my future in New York, the loss of you. I scouted Indigenous actors for most of the rules, but Madi insisted on a part. She ended up being cast as herself, which she did well. I tried to get Pedro Pascal, but sadly did not get a response.

"You made it!" I declared once I saw you after the showing.

"We really can't stay, we have to be in Manhattan for a show at 9," you said, still trying to present as distant. "But we're really happy for you! It was a great movie. Aris is around here somewhere, he said he liked it too."

You said you were happy, but your face showed otherwise. I'm sure it isn't easy for you to see me either. You just couldn't shake the look of fear on your face.

"I know the last time we saw each other wasn't a happy memory, and it hasn't been easy. If you want to talk more, I'm staying at the Baccarat Hotel on 53rd. I'll leave a key for you. No commitment. I'll be back around two."

Afterward, I didn't stay to chat with the other directors as long as I should have. You still left a ghost that sent shivers down my spine and I couldn't concentrate on anything they were saying. Sitting in a room with a bunch of nerds didn't seem too enthralling anyway.

Once I got back to the hotel, I tried to sleep but I couldn't. I tried watching TV, going for a walk, anything to get you off my mind. Even if I was the one who ended things, it didn't make it hurt any less. I find myself mulling over the details of that day, wracking on brain to decide if I made the right decision. 

I glanced at the clock. It's almost 2:00am.