Our Song

The Night New York Died

Only one streetlamp illuminated the dusty sidewalks. Rats were out hunting. People were bustling, ready for a beautiful night out with their spouses.

Paul and Art were out with the rest of them. On Thursday nights they usually went out to dinner.

One of them would choose a nice restaurant, and they would get dressed up.

They were walking hand in hand under the moonlight. It was much less evident at this hour. Paul was wearing the cape he liked to wear as well, so it hid their hands even more.

"I hope this one is good. Last week kind of disappointed me." Paul spoke his mind. He wasn't going to pretend that it was good or anything.

"Those people have no taste. Whoever rated it a five-star restaurant had to be out of their mind. I would rate it a C- at best.

Paul grinned at his partner. He was always rating things. From concerts to restaurants, nothing escaped the path of his ratings.

"That's being mighty generous there, Artie," Paul said picking up his pace. The restaurant was in view.

The scenery was much more pleasant than the previous restaurant. There was blue wallpaper lining the walls. Feet trailed along the dark wood flooring.

A splendid looking woman walked up to the two. She gave a slight smile and spoke up. Her voice was bouncy and bubbly. "Are there only you two?"

"Yes." Paul got the word out before Art could even unhinge his mouth.

She guided them to a booth in the far corner. She winked at them as they sat down.

"Hello, I'm Ginny I'll be serving you tonight. I'll give you a moment to decide on a drink." She hopped away.

Art's cheeks burned; he looked down at the menu. He quickly cleared his throat. "You think she knew?"

"She couldn't have. Unless we were too obvious." Paul caught wind of what Art was on about.

"We weren't holding hands," Art uttered. He messed with his fingers and fidgeted in his seat.

"Don't worry." Paul swept his eyes across the room. The waitress was nowhere in sight. He snuck a small kiss on Art's hand.

"I don't want to be taken away from you." His voice quivered.

"I'll make sure that never happens," Paul reassured him.

The waitress came back with a big smile on her face. She asked, "So have you figured out what you wanted?"

Paul spoke for Art. Art wouldn't be able to get any words out, so he just silently bit his lip.

"Um, we would like two glasses of Dornfelder, please." Paul attempted to act naturally around the nosey woman.

"Have you found what you guys want to eat?" She asked pulling out her little notepad and scribbling down the wine order.

They ordered as speedy as we possibly could to get the woman as far away from them as they could. She always seemed to linger.

She served them the wine and had no hesitation in asking. "Are you two really gay?"

"No, we are just friends." Paul snapped at her.

"Don't think I don't know who ya'll are." She smirked.

"Well we are famous, it's kind of obvious." Art mumbled to himself, but the woman heard him.

"The rumor had been going around for a while. I just want to know if it's true." She leaned against the wall.

"Don't you have a job you could be doing?" Art spat. His teeth were clenched to the point they almost shattered.

"Frankly, it's none of your business," Paul spoke much more confidently then Art.

"Then, I have no other reason then to believe that you two are dating." She crawled under our skin.

"Your belief is wrong, it's wrong." Art's voice changed into a high pitched whine.

"Just please, let us enjoy our dinner." Paul glared at the waitress.

"I told you she knew." Art whispered once she walked away.

"Let's just enjoy our night as best we can." Paul sipped at his wine. "At least the wine is tasty," Paul commented.

"The food isn't too bad either. It's just the waitress." Art searched around for the familiar face.

They did not tip the waitress very well. She had it coming.

Once they were far enough away from the lights of the restaurant and any peeping eyes, they connected their hands.

"Wow, your hands are freezing." Paul giggled.

"You wonder why." Art was left in a bad mood. 

In the shadows, they heard rustling. It sounded like leaves at first, but then it seemed like footsteps.

They disconnected their grasp. Paul listened for the footsteps to pick up again. Within a few seconds, it sounded like a pack of wolves were running around.

"Who's there!" Art mistakenly yelled out.

There was no response, but when they adjusted their eyes, three figures stood in front of them.

One of them sprints as fast as lighting toward them. The two ran in the other direction to escape the people in the dark.

Art yelled when he was tackled by one of them. The person holding a knife up to his throat.

A womanly voice spoke up. "Where's the money?"

Art fought away her hand. She tackled him again, and the knife slid against his side. He screamed out in pain.

Paul had found an alley dumpster to hide behind. His small frame slipped behind the dumpster, shielding his identity.

He worried for Art and hoped he was okay. He felt horrible for leaving him behind to fend for himself. He made the decision to stay put, or it would be game over for both of them.

Paul prayed.

Art punched the woman in the face a good three times. She went limp.

He quickly made it to his feet and regained his balance. Two men stepped in front of him. What Art could make out in the dark was, they were both at least 6'4 and were ripped.

"Please. I don't have any money!" Art backed himself into a corner.

The man on the left punched him in the face. His head bounced off the brick wall. He asked him again, "Where is the money? We know you have some. Ginny told us who you were. Art Garfunkel."

Art's heart sunk into his stomach. The waitress told them about him and Paul. She must've been the woman he knocked out.

The man hit him again, this time harder. Crack! Blood exploded out of his nose. He felt around. It was now crooked. The bastard broke his nose.

Art still didn't cough up his wallet. He had to take the punches. After a while, it got too much for him, and he got knocked out.

It was a good hour when Paul slipped out of his hiding place. He ran in the direction the gang was in. They all were gone.

Art laid on the ground unmoving. Blood dried on his face. Bruises were forming along his jawline and eyes.

Paul shook him to see if he was okay. He got no response.

"Artie!" Paul sniffled. He couldn't hold back the tears.

He ran to the nearest payphone.

"Nine one one what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I need an ambulance. My partner is knocked out!" Paul cried into the phone.

After the call, Paul ran back to him.

"I should've stayed by your side."