Quietus - Book III

Chapter 10: Compass

*November 4, 2010*

Steven was gonna kill me for being late. I was on the 4 train at Franklin Ave. when I realized that in my haste, I had forgotten the final season of "Sex and the City." Phoebe loved it so much, more than I ever did. I went back for it, almost slipping on a sheet of ice from last night's ice storm, and now it was 11:30. He would bitch about putting up the balloons himself throughout the entire lunch. I would have to buy his meal this afternoon, too, as if I could afford it. Living back on the funds left over from my scholarship was brutal. I wanted to find work, but no one was hiring now with the recession, especially not an undergrad.

The 4 never came by the time I got back to Franklin, so I took the 2 train and decided I'd transfer to the shuttle to get to Grand Central station, which was closer to the Main library than Times Square was. About forty minutes later, I took one step off of the 2, running through today's agenda once more. I'd meet Phoebe and Steven, then head downtown for class. I had chickened out over the last few days, but thought of going to the penthouse later. I was too afraid that Nicholas might see me. If he did, he'd see Phoebe all over me, and I couldn't risk that. The shame changed my mind again. My apartment it was. Maybe I'd even call my mom.

At the foot of the staircase leading to the mid-level mezzanine, I gasped.

There was no way. No way.

After maneuvering my way through the crowd, I climbed the steps and felt them tenfold.

Unmistakable. Nothing felt like this.

I stopped at the top of the steps and hurried over to the side to get out of the way of the throng of people going up and down. I was trapped behind them, a sea of black coats, the dismal or determined faces headed to destinations most seemed to despise. I clutched my neck as I became wholly distinct from them. I didn't have a destination. Neither did I have a mind nor body.

All I had were tingles.

They shot up my neck, into my cheeks and up my forehead. They zoomed down my arms, around my chest, and into my heart. They paralyzed me from the waist down so that all I could do was watch the crowd.

I would see Nicholas's fire. Soon, his thick head of red hair would appear, and I would tell him how sorry I was. I had to protect him from the truth because it hurt him. I would tell him I loved him so much that I'd do anything to keep him happy, and that we had to make this work because... just because.

How could I speak? I couldn't. No, I couldn't see him. I wasn't ready. I had to see Phoebe one last time.

I pressed my back against the cool tiled wall, waiting for the tingles to die down. Maybe he wouldn't see me. Maybe the Klonopin wasn't working. It wasn't prescribed for me, anyway. Yes, it had to be the drug. He wasn't here. When I pushed myself off the wall, they intensified, stealing each breath from my lungs. My heart was beating so fast as the fire warmed the lead and slowly replaced the dread. Every person around me was determined. They were cloaked in darkness. In this moment, I was made of fire.

Suddenly, I felt a cool hand clasp my wrist and pull me away from the wall. It was a rough hand. When I looked up for its owner, I found another black pea coat, a thick gray scarf, and the most volatile green eyes I had ever seen or will ever see in my life. They jumped around my face unraveling a spool of emotions from relief to fear to desire to sorrow.

It hadn't left him. Still, his wound gaped from his irises.

Oh God. His dad.

Nicholas pulled me against another tiled wall away from most of the crowd. Some still crossed behind us. Some were so close running by us that my hair fluttered from the movement. They were too close, but quickly forgotten with one breath.