I walk the loop one more time. Up First Avenue, to 87th Street, back to Park, to 79th and then home. The cool night flicks little brisk kisses of wind across my cheeks. It is not so cold that I am freezing, but it is cool enough to where I don’t want to stay outside and complete another loop.
I reach into my pocket and get my keys ready for the door. We (my neighbors and I) are not sure at what time, but at some time the steps of the church across our building become the sleeping station for the city’s homeless folks. I think it is really sad that they are homeless, especially those who fought for America in wars. I know we have services for them, thanks to God I have never been homeless, but it is awful.
When I lived in Washington Heights, there was a homeless man there who was fed by a lot of the restaurant owners. Sometimes when I would come home from dinner, I would see him sitting outside the subway and he’d ask for my leftovers and without thinking I would hand them over. He also slept outside the subway station so some mornings on the way to the gym I’d leave my banana or granola bar for him. I once covered him in a blanket. To his credit he survives the winter, the summer, the heat, the cold.
I get back into my apartment the force of the heat from the radiator hits me. OMG. It is SO hot in the apartment. I thought the Washington Heights apartment was hot, but that was nothing. At least there I could leave my windows wide open because I had gates and window screens. But now my window is off of the fire escape which worries me a little so I close the windows before I go to bed.
I change into shorts and a tank top. Out of habit reach for my phone and don’t believe this. A missed call from Town and Country? We have NEVER spoken on the phone, this is strange and a part of me thinks I am imagining his number populating on he call list, so I hit the button for last call received and I go into his voicemail. “Hey, it’s me – Desi Girl. Did you call me? I thought you were done with this.” I hang up and I feel itchy and scratchy again. What is going on? Did I make up his yelling at me text messages? So I text him back.
Desi Girl: Hey. I think you called me. I find it weird since you have never called me before. I understood that we were done. So I don’t plan to contact you again. I don't even know why I am texting you - but I wish you well.