9:00 a.m. – Edith was doing her best to keep up. She really was. But dragging a suitcase, dodging construction and pedestrians, and the constant nagging of the voice inside her head to be careful be careful be careful, made it impossible. Edith kept her eyes on the sidewalk, looking for things that could trip her up. Every fifth step she tightened her fist to remind herself to be careful. Her fingers ached. She glanced up quickly, looking for Jack in the crowds of people streaming south on 9th Avenue. He was almost a full block in front of her now and she shook her head. It was like this more and more lately. All about Jack.
Right now, he was like a runaway train with no one at the switch. The next time she glanced up he was a full block and a half ahead of her. She stopped with a throng of people at West 50th Street, waiting while the eastbound traffic poured across town, making it impossible to cross against the light. Her suitcase tipped over as she stepped off the curb and she swallowed deeply, determined not to cry in frustration. At 47th Street she was surprised to see Jack coming out of the Starbucks up ahead, with a large cup of coffee in his hand. She called out, “Jack!” He didn’t hear her, merging into the crowd, continuing south to Port Authority. Edith clenched her fist again and swallowed some tears. I would have liked a coffee too, she thought. Jack disappeared into the crowd. After 37 years of marriage, he doesn’t know I exist. “Come on,” he had urged her as they left the hotel minutes ago. “Traffic’s going to be bad. It’s faster to walk than take a cab at this time of day.” By West 45th Street Jack had disappeared completely. He was probably at their car that was parked at Port Authority.
9:15 a.m. – Edith turned left on West 45th Street. Just like that. It was surprisingly quiet compared to the din of 9th Avenue. She kept her head down looking for obstacles but the voice in her head that told her to be careful be careful quieted a bit. For a while the only sound was the clackety-clack of her roller suitcase on the uneven sidewalk. She wondered when Jack would miss her. If he would miss her.
10:30 a.m. – She came to the literal end of the road at First Avenue. She could go no further. She and her suitcase found a bench at the United Nations Plaza. Digging deep into her shoulder bag Edith found her iPhone.
9:20 a.m.
Edith where are you? Come on
9:23 a.m.
I’m taking the elevator up to the car. Meet me there
9:30 a.m.
Sheesh Edith. Where are you?
Are you picking your way down the street,
worried that you’ll trip and fall? Come on!
10:00 a.m.
Okay Edith. This isn’t funny.
I’m coming back down.
I’ll meet you at the elevators
She turned off the phone, dropping it in her bag.
11:00 a.m. – Edith bought a ticket for a tour of the United Nations and checked her suitcase for safekeeping. She moved slowly with the long line of people through the security checkpoint and for the first time in a long time, Edith didn’t care. She didn’t care that she might miss her tour. She was in control and that made her smile. She decided to take the tour offered in Spanish to see how well her high school language lessons had held up.
2:00 p.m. – The Ladies Room in the basement of Grand Central Station was surprisingly pristine for such a public place. White tiles gleamed. The sinks were arranged to offer privacy. A tiny person wearing an enormous backpack brushed her teeth at one and beside her, a woman with plastic bags fastened over her shoes with large rubber bands stared at herself in the mirror. The wheeled cart beside her bulged with unidentifiable items, each wrapped in a dark green garbage bag. Edith averted her eyes wondering about these women’s lives. She thanked the washroom attendant on her way out.
2:15 p.m. – Edith sighed. She was certain she had told the woman: no meat. But the first layer of her salad was cubes of diced chicken. She picked around it and found some lettuce. What a first world problem, she thought. Estrella, her guide at the United Nations, had talked at length about food shortages and world hunger. Edith understood that she was leading a life of privilege. She ate the meat and was thankful. The lunch crowds had thinned in the Grand Central food court and Edith noticed several tables occupied by people who wore a look of nowhere to go. A sad-looking man wearing several coats and a New York Yankees wool toque sat at a table across from her. He was staring at a well-read newspaper laying on the table. Edith wondered if this man had a home. She had one but didn’t want to go there.
3:00 p.m. – Tourists filled Bryant Park, and she watched them, thinking she could pick out who were locals and who were the real tourists. She let the sun beat down on her face, for once not worrying about skin cancer. Bryant Park was drawing people like a magnet with its green lawns, cool shade, and inviting tables and chairs. Edith wondered why she wasn’t feeling any guilt about ditching Jack on 9th Avenue. She had become more and more secondary to his job, his research, him. She was shrinking while he thrived. When he published that last paper to critical acclaim and all sorts of awards, she disappeared entirely, like a magician’s assistant at the end of the act.
3:05 p.m. – Edith turned her phone back on.
10:15 a.m.
Edith, where are you?
10:30 a.m.
Edith, I’ve walked all the way back
up ninth. Where did you go?
10:33 a.m.
Now I’m worried.
This isn’t funny Edith.
You know I have a lecture
this afternoon. COME ON
She couldn’t stand to read any more of Jack’s texts. It was clear he was angry. And she just didn’t care. Edith turned off her phone, again.
3:30 p.m. – Doing nothing was certainly wonderful and better than being answerable to her husband for his petty complaints. But she was getting a sore behind from sitting for so long. She had no plan and enjoyed what that felt like. No plans. About now she should be thinking about what they would have for dinner. Maybe instead of meat, starch and two servings of vegetables she would buy dinner from a street vendor. The thought made her smile. Jack appeared just then, about fifty feet down the sidewalk that bisected Bryant Park. He was barreling along like a man on a mission. Well, I guess the jig is up, Edith thought. Jack walked directly towards her, and she gave him a rueful smile, put her hand on her suitcase and prepared to leave. He walked right past her. The magic trick worked. She was invisible.
5:00 p.m. – Edith slid further into the hot, soapy water, breathing in the eucalyptus scent. The John Barrymore Suite at The Algonquin Hotel hardly compared to the hotels she was used to.
6:00 p.m. – Convinced now that Jack had given up and gone home, she turns on her phone.
11:00 a.m.
I’ve looked everywhere for you.
I’ll call the police now
11:10 a.m.
They can’t help.
You have to be gone for 24 hours.
I think I may go home and
do my lecture
So, he had stayed in the city. There was no way he could have driven all the way home to Philadelphia, given a lecture, and then been back in Bryant Park by 3:30 p.m. She almost felt guilty that he’d missed a lecture because of her.
11:15 a.m.
On second thought,
I’ll call John.
He has a free afternoon and
he can take my lecture
Edith wondered if she should just stop reading his texts. She also wondered why she wasn’t angry. She really hadn’t been all that angry since 1988 when he called her stupid. Actually, he called her an idiot first, and then stupid. If her memory served her right, he used both words in one sentence. He was not a man known for flowery prose.
6:30 p.m. – Edith lifted herself onto a stool at the Blue Bar and looked around, wondering how many of the members of the Algonquin Round Table had sat in this very spot. In honour of Dorothy Parker, she asked the bartender for a glass of champagne.
12:15 p.m.
In case you come to the car
I am going out to look for you.
I might as well now that I
have to pay the full daily rate, again
12:16 p.m.
Why aren’t you answering
my texts?
She pulled out her iPhone and asked the bartender if it was easy to block someone’s texts. He showed her how. Edith felt powerful now, knowing she could turn off Jack with the flick of a finger. You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby.
10:30 p.m. – Edith loved Manhattan at night. Not the area around Broadway where the neon lights made her dizzy and sick to her stomach. But Park Avenue. Despite the stream of yellow cabs, it was peaceful and almost beautiful. She was taking the long way back to The Algonquin, walking off a large bowl of mushroom risotto and two glasses of champagne. Her last treat of the evening would be a stroll through Grand Central Station, wanting to end a perfect evening gazing at the starry ceiling. But there was Jack, at the opposite side of the terminal, talking to three police officers.
12:05 a.m. – The computerized voice of the subway reminded her again that this was the last stop. End of the line. Coney Island. Edith pushed through the raucous crowds streaming up the stairs and found herself on the street, a bit breathless. It was eerily quiet after the noise inside the subway station.
1:00 a.m. – Edith was weary. Why was she avoiding by hiding from Jack? At Grand Central Station, she had ducked into the first archway that said “Subway,” running down the steps and into a waiting train. She smiled now realizing that she hadn’t taken the stairs like an old woman. The voice in her head hadn’t reminded her to be careful.
3:00 a.m. – She woke with a start, panicked, taking a minute to get her bearings. Darkness enveloped her like an old quilt. Gentle sounds of water lapping onto the sand mixed with sounds of sadness coming from somewhere on the beach in front of her. Low moans were mixed with higher pitched, but quiet, screeches. She knew this sound and she felt it, deep in her belly. Someone was in pain and they didn’t want anyone to know. They were crying, biting down on the ache. Edith squinted into the darkness, trying to focus her sleep-filled eyes on the long stretch of sand.
5:00 a.m. – His name was Jack. She pondered the coincidence and decided it wasn’t important. This Jack didn’t have much to say except thank you. He refused her offer of an ambulance, assuring her he was fine. She wrapped him in her long sweater and propped him up on the bench beside her. His teeth were chattering, and she rubbed his hard, scaly hands between hers, trying to warm him. So, they sat, quietly, watching the dawn break. After a while she hummed some melodies and Jack murmured, “That’s nice.” And the darkest hour is just before dawn. This is dedicated to the one I love, she sang out softly, warbling the last word, trying to sound like Mama Cass. Edith smiled in the dark.
7:30 a.m. – “It was real nice meeting you Edith,” Jack said. She was standing beside their booth in a diner just off the Boardwalk, ready to leave. “Ditto Jack. You’re sure I can’t do anything else for you?” Edith took Jack’s hand in both of hers and squeezed. She left a small bundle of cash in his palm, unsure how to leave him cash and his dignity. It had been many years since she had a pleasant time with someone named Jack.
11:00 p.m.
I’ve looked everywhere for you.
The police said to call them in the
morning to file a missing
person’s report. I’m going home
8:00 a.m. – So am I, thought Edith. As soon as I find one. She dropped the phone back into her purse, laid her head on the window of the train and fell asleep.
10:00 a.m. – The front of Edith’s shoe caught the step on her way up from the subway and she pitched forward. Be careful be careful be careful the voice screamed inside her head. She gripped the grimy metal banister, stopping herself from falling forward. Sometimes her feet didn’t work in sync with her brain and she tripped. Not like she planned it. Jack considered it an inconvenience. He would hover over her with his hands on his hips, staring down at her. Never offering a hand up. One time, a few years back, she crushed her wrist when she instinctively put it out to stop her fall. “Stupid idiot,” Jack snarled at her while she bit down on the pain and swallowed the screech in her throat. The wrist was fixed now but the plate and eight screws were still there.
10:15 a.m. – Edith found a bench in Central Park and while the adrenaline left her body, she sat quietly, thinking about getting past this fear of falling. She knew full well that it was fear of Jack’s reaction, not the skinning of her knees or the breaking of her wrists.
11:00 a.m. – Her mother had very little personality. She was withdrawn most of the time but angry and shrill when she chose to be present. Ironically, she was afraid of loud noises unless she was the cause. She ignored her children. Edith watched a young mother rolling on the grass near The Pond with her daughter. They were tickling each other and laughing – laughing out loud for everyone to hear.
7:30 a.m.
Edith if you’re reading these messages,
the decent thing to do is call me.
Let me know where you are.
9:30 a.m.
You’re officially a missing person
12:00 p.m. – Edith savoured the hot dog from the vendor’s cart. Seven or eight young women, chatting earnestly, paraded past her, pushing strollers. Two toddlers, in separate strollers, were holding hands, grinning toothlessly and enjoying this glorious day. Edith smiled at the sweetness and thought about buying another hot dog.
12:30 p.m. – Edith remembered what it felt like after her stepfather left them and her mother stayed in bed for a year.
12:40 p.m. – She really should stop wandering around the city. She stood up from the bench and after a moment, she started walking.
2:00 p.m. – Edith went slowly around The Pond, past the Zoo, and exited the Park at East 69th Street. When she passed the Zoo she realized she had her head up. She was looking straight ahead. Not worrying about where her feet landed.
3:00 p.m. – She knew where she was going now.
3:10 p.m. – Edith entered the 19th Precinct on East 67th Street and presented herself at the front desk. She told the desk Sergeant that she had some information about a missing person’s report. “Name?” she was asked. “Edith Fleming.” “Name of the missing person?” “Edith Fleming.” The desk Sergeant looked at her, expressionless, his hands on the keyboard of his computer. “You can tell my husband, if he checks in, that I’m fine. I don’t want to be found.”
5:00 p.m.
Fine. Just fine.
Go to hell Edith
