Years Later in New York City, 2007
When Alice left the bar that night, she knew this was the only way she could think of to safe her soul and a piece of her mind. Her intuition told her that she was led by a powerful calling to walk away, she was certain. She was fully aware of the extreme cold weather outside, and she should have stayed inside, safe and warmth by surrounded people, but something beckoned her out - the bar was overcrowded and reeking of beer, and the sound of laughter clung to her sticky stools like she was an unwelcome guest. What was worst, was her past memory continued to creep up to her without her own consensus, like someone remotely projected it into her brain repeatedly.
She just moved to this city about 5 years ago with her husband due to his job at law firm, she told herself that it was an opportunity to start fresh and leave everything behind in Wichita, where her family was. It was not like she had a rough life back home; her family's wealth was enough to send her to a private University and marry good into the well-matched Canton family, one of the most established banking tycoons in New York. They met in the junior year of her college at a Christmas ball. Peter was a year younger than her, and when she saw him standing with his rowdy friends, she right away caught him looking at her secretly. Such look was not unusual for her, she was used to boys' irritating childishness due to her being known as one of the prettiest and brightest girls in her class. So, when Peter gently asked for her phone number, she gave it to him not because she was impressed by his tall-handsome appearance, but to reward him of his well-mannered approach and bravery. She dated him a few times till her parents told her who his family was, it was then she knew an arranged marriage was inevitable.
She remembered the day her, and her husband Peter arrived at their grandly exclusive apartment building on the 6 Ave in New York city, she looked up the tall metal door at the end of the wide but low marble staircase, she saw a brand-new life where she could begin, and cherish with her new family. A place where she could feel safe and secure. At least that was what she thought.
The night sky was lit bright by streets lights, the sound of crunching leaves beneath her shoes mixed with the music of the festivity, up lifted her weary spirit briefly. The air was so cold, even when she pulled her coat tighter around her body, she still couldn't hold her shiver. She decided to walk closer to the streetside where heated BBQ smoke came out from restaurants and bars, it kept her warm temporary. At this point she could care less if her expensive coat would be stained by the oily smell, her only goal now was to stay warm and get out of the noisiest section of the main street, as further away as possible. She missed breathing in the myrtle fragrance rustling in the wind from the central park which was just few blocks down the street east of her home. Such distinctive aroma that anyone who lived in the city long enough could easily recognize. A feature that identified New York's own autumn nights.
'Why are you going home?' Peter, her husband, called out to her from behind. He was chasing after her and couldn't catch his breath. Alice responded and spoke up over the loud chatter of the neighboring restaurant costumers, "Yes, I ought to go home," she said, "I Don't feel well, I'll take a taxi." It was past nine o'clock, and she had had enough of it.
"You can't leave." He yelled back, over the deafening noise. Peter looked surprised and frowned. "Everyone is still inside," he said firmly.
Alice bit her lip, knowing that leaving her husband behind would be a breach of social convention. But she had made up her mind, the only thing she desire most now was to be in the comfort of her own home.
Alice refused to be in a confrontation with her husband at this time. She simply swept her long silken hair away from her face and replied, "I am going home. You can join me, or you can stay."
Peter's face pondered for words.
Alice sighed and walked away. Her steps heavy with hidden thoughts. She knew that she was in the right, but that knowledge did little to assuage her gut feeling of something troubling. Alice began to stroll towards where people gathered to wave for taxi, and she could still hear Peter shouting after her.
Alice's cynical gaze swept from the bustling, vibrant street scene of Hyde Park, at the sea of revelers and couples jammed the upscale restaurants celebrating the Knicks victory in the playoffs. Her sadness didn't come from being embarrassed by her husband's inconsiderate act in public but came from her own presage of their marriage.
Alice drew her lips into a thin, tight line. She whistled a passing taxi with her elegant fingers, and turned to look for Peter one last time before she goes. She saw Peter through the bar window from the distance as he cheered along with his work mates just like when they first met. Only this time, he was not looking at her and the meaningless ravishment had become more important to him than her departure. Alice then sat herself at the back seat of the taxi, her face expressionless as she gave the driver her address.
Alice leaned back into the seat, drawing in a deep breath of the air conditioning, hoping to calm herself. While she used all ability to control her own emotions, she realized she couldn't be sadder. It was only a night out with husband and his coworkers, who she knew for years. Something alarmed every sense in her, and she could not help to feel helpless.
She glanced at the dirty smudged identification that displayed a name, Abdul. An old gentleman who clearly had seen tough times in his life. Then Alice started to divert her focus of her husband by staring out the window at the city rolled by in a shimmering blur of glass and metal. Her mind raced fast with the weight of her responsibilities, her effort to relax was a struggle all on its own.
Abdul glanced over his shoulder at Alice - something that he would normally never do - but this woman had a strange air about her which made him unease. He cleared his throat nervously. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are…Are you okay?" His words unwillingly stuttered and cracked, as if he wasn't sure if he was overreacting or just taken over by her unusual aurora.
Alice smiled and said nothing. He turned his attention back to the road and returned her with a nod.
With her mind far away from this moment, Alice glanced out the window at the passing buildings. Memories of when she had first met Peter flooded her mind and brought a much-needed warmth for a moment. He had been one of the few who had ever managed to get close to her, and she missed the intimacy and secrets that he used to share with her, yet it had been months since their last conversation. However, as a wife and mother, it was now Alice's duty to go home and face reality. Alice felt the full weight of her loneliness as the old cab trudged through the city streets.
She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and tried to be content with what she had: a beautiful home, two wonderful children, and a trusting husband. She was even more grateful for her loving in laws, they practically treat her better than their own son, care for her like the daughter they never had. To add the glazing to the cake, Peter was recently promoted to become partner with the help of Alice's mom's recommendation. Things were going more than well for her family, and however, deep in her heart, there was an ache she hid for a long time from them, things many of her family members still didn't know. "This must be the empty glass bottle talking," she murmured. Alice reminded herself of her station.
The taxi slowed beside a gleaming tower. Every window sparkled by the city's neon lights, a microcosm of a burgeoning metropolis, and yet, Alice knew better to stay stoic. She didn't want to misbehave and reveal her intoxicated state in front of the doorman whose integrity lives or dies with this lavish building, like an ageless monument.
Before she stepped out, Alice paid the driver and said, 'Your son will visit you this weekend. Remember to go to that billiard hall you always go to with him and buy a lottery ticket.'
The passenger side window rolled down with a rumble, and Alice heard the driver's voice, 'Lady, just what are you talking about? How do you know about my son?'" The driver's son served in military and visited him every three months.
Alice did not hesitate to respond. "Let's just say I have my ways," she said enigmatically.
The driver's expression softened, and Alice could see driver's eyes glimmered with tears and questions.
☆☆☆
After almost falling asleep inside the building's elevator, Alice stumbled towards the front door of her home on the 23rd floor, her body swaying as a wave of dizziness overcame her. She fumbled through her bag for her house key, and she struggled to find it.
As she pushed open the door, Alice was greeted by the sight of her luxurious home, a testament to her family's wealth and power. The towering columns, opulent furniture, and delicate flowers all contributed to a sense of grandeur that permeated in lordly air.
The house phone rang out suddenly, its shrill sound cutting through the stillness of the late hour. Alice knew that it couldn't be Peter; he would have known better than to call when the children were already asleep. While trying to render a clue of who the caller could be, Alice took off her leather high heels with a sense of relief and called out for Lorry, the sitter. "Please, my dear, would you make me some tea?" she said, her voice strained. "But don't wake the kids."
The older woman nodded; she had practically become family to Alice. Lorry, who had moved here from Mexico alone about a decade ago, was the family's assistant on evenings when Alice and Peter were away, taking care of their five-year-old son Roger and three-year-old Kathy. Alice was grateful for her help, but deep down she knew that they were paying her too little for all that she did. From caring for the children to cleaning and cooking around the house, Lorry was an indispensable part of their lives.
Lorry set the teapot down, the sharp clatter of the China shattering the mutual sympathetic silence between them. Jasmin-scented steam wafted up from the pot, wrapping Alice in a cocoon of warmth and fragrant comfort. "Who was it that called so late?" Alice asked Lorry.
"The phone was silent when I picked it up," Lorry responded nervously, unsure of what to make of the situation. With no response from Alice, she watched as her employer collapsed against the cushions, her hair spilling into half of her face. While Lorry covered Alice with a knit blanket, the only sound in the room was the soft, steady breathing of Alice who had fell deep into sleep.
☆☆☆
Next day, when the warmth of the morning light woke Alice from her slumber, she felt her body stiff and sore, as if she had been asleep for years and had just been reborn. She looked out the large French window where the thick brown curtains had been pulled open, displayed the sun rose over the metropolis horizon from above, casting the sky in autumnal hues, painting the city in shades of ocher and gold. She struggled to recall how she had ended up on the living room couch, wrapped in a cozy knit blanket, then her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps of Lorry echoing in the halls.
Normally with Lorry's help, Alice would set about her usual routine of preparing breakfast for her husband and children. The familiar smells of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee would fill the air, and Alice would feel a sense of contentment fill over her as she worked. There was nothing she cherished more than seeing the smiles on her family's faces as they enjoyed her homemade breakfast.
But today, she could barely get up. Before she had met Peter, Alice had been a wild soul, taking full advantage of her feminist rights by travelling to far-flung lands in search of adventure. Her husband still knew nothing of this what he would consider a hedonistic past, and for more the reason that Alice preferred to keep it as a secret. She had now chosen a new life with Peter, one of stability and security, best life she could choose for herself.
She finally sat up, stretching her neck from side to side and taking a deep breath in. "Lorry, it's time to wake them up," Alice called out, her froggy voice could only reach as far as the end of hallway. She worried she'd wake Peter up - he must have snuck in late last night. Her husband was never late for his beloved bacon omelet, she wondered where he was. His morning routine had been distorted since he got the new job, they had just fought about it two days ago. "He must have had too much to drink last night," Alice mused, though she knew that his tolerance for booze was renowned and that this never excused him from being tardy.
But when Lorry spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper, Alice felt a sense of unease. "Peter didn't come home last night, Mrs.," Lorry said quietly, her eyes downcast.
Alice refused to jump to conclusions before speaking with Peter herself, but she couldn't help but to be upset. She reached for her phone to give him a call, but the house phone rang at the same moment, jolting her out of her thoughts. She dashed over to answer it, her heart pounding in her throat.
She shuffled over to the phone, wondering if it was the doorman. "Hello?" she said, her voice taut with tension.
A young boy's voice on the other end of the line responded, a voice trembling yet with a strong and comforting vibe in his words. "Is this Alice?" he asked. A surge of energy warmed Alice's body like something she lost had come back to her.
She held the receiver with numbed hands, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. A paced calm tone spoke out. "I'm Danny," he said, the voice cracked as though flood of suppressed emotions exploded all at once. It was a name that felt both distant and familiar to Alice's ears, a reminder of a past that she had left behind.
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A thousand miles from any big, populated cities, a boy of 8 stood in the abandoned phone booth; his entire body coated in a layer of sunbaked dust that foretold of days spent trudging through arid wastelands. His ripped jean could not be mistaken as a fashion statement, but the only outfit he wore for, if not weeks, months. He was exhausted and lost, his body aching with every bone and joint, but he refused to give up.
For a long moment after he spoke into the receiver, there was only hollow silence on the other end, and Danny felt his heart sink. Like a near drown ant stood on a drifting wood on a stormy sea. He had come too far to turn back now, and he won't let go of his one chance for longing.
All of sudden, a gentle voice snuck through the static, faint and far away, unmistakably from a different world. "Hello?" it said, the sound embellished like a bell tolling to tell good news.
Danny leaped while his blood pumped, he felt a sense of hope, like a fresh spring that washed and cleared his past in darkness. He finally made contact, even if the voice was in disturbance and the connection was cut off right away by unknown source.