2003: Rosanna had only received one phone call from Matilda in the two weeks since her abrupt departure. She called to say that she was fine and would be staying with a friend in upstate New York. She did not offer a name and Rosanna stubbornly did not ask for one. She simply listened, her blood boiling and temples throbbing as Matilda explained that she needed to think about their future. Rosanna offered that perhaps they should discuss their future together, but Matilda had said that she was not ready for that. When Rosanna asked her when she could expect her back in town, Matilda said that she could not commit to anything as definite as a date. They hung up and Rosanna took four ibuprofen tablets and went to the gym to work off the tension. Such was the tenor of her days. She would go to work, maintaining an attitude of cool professionalism—so she supposed. From there she spent two hours at the gym. Her physical exertions caused her mind to become dull and blank—at least for a short period of time. Once, she left the gym, she went home to her empty apartment. She wished she could talk to Sam. She missed him a great deal.
Her dear friend was off shooting the wild things (thankfully only with a camera). He had landed what he considered a seriously excellent job as a photographer for a well-known nature magazine and was doing a lot of globe trotting. Currently, Rosanna had mementos from Australia, China, and Japan. They had met in college at a lesbian/gay mixer and become close friends. Sam told her all the gory details and adventures of his latest boy-toy and she eventually got around to confiding her feelings, fears, and fantasies first about Solace and later, Matilda. Sam gave terrific sound advice. He listened to any suggestions Rosanna offered intently, but inevitably did the exact opposite. He was also her biking buddy, and they had logged too many miles to count. Sam had promised to call her as soon as ‘was humanly possible and decent’, but as yet she had not heard from him. Rosanna was certain he would return ready to tell all about his latest trek.
During the two weeks, Rosanna picked up her phone on several occasions, thinking to call Solace, but she always stopped herself. What could she say? What did she want to say? What would Solace say? Again, the questions swirled around in her brain like a kaleidoscope, never stopping on a single answer.
Bored one Saturday, and tired of brooding, Rosanna decided to take a solo bike trip down Manhattan’s east side. This would give her body a real workout. She donned her biking shorts and jacket, grabbed her helmet and racing bike and dashed out the door. Once on the street, she put her feet to the pedals and pumped furiously towards a dangerous, high speed ride. The bracing wind whipped around her and it felt almost as if she were flying. She recklessly weaved in and out of traffic, only braking when absolutely necessary.
As she stopped for a light, she saw a woman crossing the street using a white mobility cane. How was it that she had never seen blind people before? She probably had, she just had not been paying attention. Solace had opened her eyes to the fact that blind people were everywhere. Rosanna’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the unsuspecting pedestrian. She noted how the woman’s swing differed from Solace’s. She noticed her hair color and thought of Solace’s wavy locks. She also took in the woman’s style of dress. Rosanna did not miss a single detail that was in her vision. She was jolted back to her senses by the honking of horns, signaling that annoyed motorists wanted her to get out of the way. She sped off, her legs pumping even harder and faster, her muscles screaming for relaxation. She rode all the way down to the scenic South Street Seaport area where she slowed, located a bench, hopped off her bike and sat down. She pulled off her helmet, wiped her sweating forehead and looked out over the rippling waters of the East River. The rhythmic motion helped lull her tortured mind. She loved the water and thought about… What had she been thinking—that she would love to take Solace out on her motor boat this summer. Right! She had broken it off with Solace so abruptly. It had only been two weeks and yet it felt like a lifetime. If Sam were here, he probably would have told her that her actions had been nuts. He had, on several occasions, sounded her out about seeing Matilda. She had not been able to convince him that it was the best and that Matilda would probably make a more suitable mother for their children. Sam was a Solace fan and made no secret of this fact.
“The world is coming to an end!” a shrill, female voice interrupted Rosanna’s thoughts. She looked up to see a woman wearing several layers of clothes and pushing a shopping cart, coming toward her. “Save yourselves and your children!” she yelled. “The war has begun and there’s nowhere to run!”
Rosanna grabbed the seat of her bike in the event that she would have to make an unplanned rapid retreat.
“Are you ready, young woman?” This statement seemed odd as the woman did not seem much older than thirty years herself. She waited expectantly for Rosanna’s reply.
Ordinarily, Rosanna did not speak to the many homeless New Yorkers who crossed her path. She gave a monthly donation to an organization which fed, clothed and offered counseling, but that was the extent of her contact. She believed that communicating with them was not wise as she might inadvertently say something that might provoke them into violence and she did not want to deal with a confrontational situation. But she was in a strange mood and she asked, “Is anybody ready? What is going to be is going to be. How can we be ready for anything?” She looked at the woman, not knowing whether she would receive an answer or not but slightly intrigued to hear what she might have to say.
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She seemed taken aback that someone had actually answered her. She had been shouting this warning for several years. She had received very few responses but many furtive glances before they scurried away. She looked into Rosanna’s eyes as she said, “You are troubled.”
“Aren’t we all?” Rosanna mumbled without thinking.
“You are torn between two paths,” she continued, ignoring Rosanna’s quiet query. “You turn away from love that is right there in front of you. You are the blind one. You need solace.” She finished, turned her shopping cart around and shambled off down the waterfront.
Rosanna sat stunned and speechless. How could she know? That was a lucky guess. She doesn’t even know me. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine and her stomach lurched. How eerie! What she had said was that I need solace. She meant comfort. Didn’t she? Well, she’s right. I do need solace, but not… She interrupted that thought. Well, she might not be able to make up her mind about the women in her life, but she did know one thing—she was starved. She reached in her fanny pack for her cell phone and pressed the speed dial number for her mother. Carla picked up on the third ring.
“Rosanna?” Carla could see Rosanna’s name on her caller ID.
“Ma, can I come over for dinner?” asked Rosanna praying that her mother was not going to a show or something.
“Sure, if you don’t mind leftovers. I made some arroz con pollo yesterday. I think it’s still good.” Carla answered. Her culinary skills were not up to her mother’s but she and Rosita had not starved.
“Great. I’ll see you in about an hour.” Rosanna exclaimed.
“An hour? Where are you?” Carla asked in surprise because she knew Rosanna was only a short bus ride away.
“I’m down at the Seaport. I rode my bike down here.” Rosanna replied, shouting a bit as a large boat passed, its loud horn sounding in short blasts.
