Friday, July 12th.
Today was the last day of class, and I was kind of disappointed to hear that our class party would start an hour earlier than the end of lunch break, at 12:00 instead of 1:00. We'd have less time to spend together.
I decided to take you on our own personal photography session around campus. I wanted to make this day memorable for the both of us.
Right after our last morning session, we headed to our first location: Revson Plaza. This was probably my absolute favorite place on campus. Overhanging the street, it gave spectacular, unobstructed views on Amsterdam Avenue north toward inner Harlem, and south toward Manhattan's upper west side. It was the one place where I had peace every morning, as I found the early bustle of the city calming while I napped alongside the deep-green courtyard grass, cooled in the shade of the surrounding buildings. It was never crowded; people rarely came here, making it the perfect place to have some alone time.
"Just saying, I'm TERRIBLE at selfies", I said. Both of us tried with laughable success. I attempted to set up a timed camera by leaning my phone upon my bag, rushing over to your side in time to make it for the photo.
May I add that it was unbearably windy today?
The distance of the camera made us look like small beans next to the balcony banister, and the wind tossed our hair into a jumbled, awkward mess. Just one look at the photos, and both of us died of laughter. In one picture, you looked absolutely distraught, with random strands of hair covering your face as your hand shaded your eyes from the wind. In another, my hair looked like it was about to take flight. We were such a meme.
The next stop was Low Library, Columbia's most notorious scene. While we were waiting for a spot to open up for a photo op, I surprised you with a Columbia teddy bear that I had bought for you this morning.
"What should I name him?" you asked.
"Humphrey", I said as a joke, yet you named him just that. What the heck. That was literally the ugliest name I could've thought of. And yet it said so much about you. That love you gave to Humphrey, regardless of how ugly his name was, that unconditional affection, was what you showed me. Before you got to know me, to you, I could've been anybody. Yet when I showed my vulnerability, my personality, my imperfections, you loved me regardless. Your love persisted. I'd always cherish that.
We finally asked someone to take our picture in front of Low Library, though, he probably wasn't very skilled, as the only part of the library visible in the picture were its pillars. We took a couple more selfies in front of Butler, and made our way to the gazebo by Hartley, where a statue of John Howard Van Amringe's head was erected.
"We should take one of those cute flics where we're each peaking from the sides of each pillar like we're playing hide and seek", I said with a smile.
I set up my phone to capture that perfect center angle and set off the timer. The massive group of kids in front of us must have thought we were idiots, because we definitely looked like a duo of fools taking this picture with a ghetto camera setup.
The product was absolutely worth the ridicule. You burst out in your signature laugh- sweet, full, and without reserve. It was one of the things I loved about you: you were never restrained with your laugh; you never made it difficult to tell what you were feeling. You were fearless, unabashed by your emotions, and always sincere. It was beautiful.
After this last stop, we bought some bubble tea and went back to class. The rest of the class day was more or less uneventful. We ate some pizza, and while you watched GATTACA, I played Minecraft with some of our classmates.
~
Class ended, but I wanted to spend more time with you. I took some quick pictures with some friends I made from Gary's globalization class, and for most, I said my final goodbyes. It really made me think about us, about how our last goodbye would be.
With your hands in mine, unified in the bond of love, we went to 116th Street Station for the final time together, and caught the closest 1 Train. With your head rested upon my shoulder, we rode to 42nd Street Times Square Station, where we transferred to the 7 Train bound for Hudson Yards.
The station was new: solid metallic walls, an oddly plastic synthetic smell, and an unadulterated flooring virtually unseen in any of the other subway stations within Manhattan. We stepped onto the impossibly steep escalator, enclosed by an array of blue, purple, red, yellow, and white spiraled tile: a mere taste of the twenty-five billion dollar architectural and artistic feat that is Hudson Yards. On ground level, Hudson Yards seemed to be a playground for giants. Massive skyscrapers, giant doorways, and huge windows made everyone look miniature in scale.
A few blocks ahead was the internet-famous Vessel.
"What...is that?", you asked, a confused smile forming on your face.
Honestly, I didn't even know what it was. The Vessel was the centerpiece for the masterfully crafted Hudson Yards, and yet, it held absolutely no value.
"If I'm gonna be perfectly honest, its just a bunch of stairs", I answered with a chuckle. What was so special about that reflective mess of a structure? We still took cute pictures in front of it, as it was habitual for anyone visiting Hudson Yards.
The High Line was next. Formerly used as an elevated track for the New York Central Railroad, it was now a statement of art, as iron track had become integrated with dense, colorful, vegetation and streams of flowing water. It embodied the theme of coexistence among industry and nature, present in many other parts of Manhattan.
As we walked along the brownish-red track, we balked at the urban jungle that lay before us. Vibrant graffiti art seemed to paint the sides of buildings, while lawn chairs, potted plants, and laundry wire present on rooftops showed signs of life, of humanity. Very few words were exchanged between us as we strolled through the elevated platform.
I think both of us were lost in thought. Thoughts of reflection, of joy, of contentment. Thoughts of somber departure, of bittersweet farewell. Of love, of affection, of warmth. Of longing, of desire, of separation. We were entranced by our own emotion.
We sat down in front of a large glass wall that separated us from the streets below as we looked upon 10th Avenue.
"I'm really gonna miss this", I said quietly in a voice that only you could hear.
"Me too", you replied simply. But that phrase alone spoke volumes.
We sat in silence for a good amount of time, looking out upon the street. I noticed the rhythm of the traffic lights, the flow of cars, of people, of life. I noticed the sound of the city, a droning tone of movement, interjected by the occasional honk of a car. At that moment, the world seemed so real to me.
We got off the High Line in Chelsea, where we passed through Chelsea Market, taking in all the sights, the scents, and the people. A bookstore we visited was filled with extremely vulgar and liberal works on the Trump presidency, often disguised as children's books, opposed by an equal amount of conservative publications on Hillary Clinton. If there was anything that accurately showed the political climate of America, this bookstore was it.
The huge Starbucks Roastery was right across the street. I figured we could visit and use the gift cards we had obtained yesterday. I ordered a chai oolong tea, while you ordered a matcha tea latte. Both of our drinks were extremely bold in their flavors, creamy yet bitter.
The time had come where we had to depart.
We took the C train from 8th Avenue Station back up to Penn Station, where I had to catch the LIRR. I knew you had to take the subway back to Columbia, so I said my goodbyes before I exited through the turnstile.
"I'm gonna miss you so much" I said, pain revealed in my voice. I gave you a great, deep hug that encapsulated all of my emotions. Love, loss, desire, farewell.
"I'll see you around", I said, walking through the turnstiles. I looked back one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face again.
"Is this really how it ends?" I thought to myself. "A hug, a goodbye, and that's it?"
"No", I said. "This isn't how it ends."
