I had a really bad late afternoon today. Just overwhelmed
by grief and sobbing. Sometimes I think in a corner of my heart, I truly
believe somehow that Summer really will just magically reappear and this
nightmare will be over, our life able to resume. When that little piece I hold
quietly, secretly falls away, in those moments I truly cannot cope...
I got undressed and
turned off the lights and got into bed at 6pm, weeping uncontrollably. I tried
to get somebody on the phone. But no one answered. I finally cried myself to
sleep. It was still daylight. I woke up an hour later, put on some clothes and
went for a walk. Went for beer, if you want to know the truth. I held out all
day and what good did it do me, ya know? I'd already gotten completely hysterical
stone cold sober. How much worse could it get? Famous last words, I know.
I've been drinking
this IPA made in Petaluma. Like everything- like rooting for the Giants, like
listening to Bay Area NPR, like buying more UC Davis tshirts, like shopping for
a Blue Prius- every thought is trying to reclaim my lost life with Summer.
Anyway, this beer, Lagunitas it's called- they're out of it at D'Agostino's. I
try Gristedes. No go. Finally, I locate some at the Food Emporium. It's warm
but I can stick it the freezer for an hour. Maybe I'll manage to get some writing done while I'm waiting, right?
I step up to the
cashier but this very excited lady steps in front of me and asks the girl
behind the register, "Where's the bagel place?"
The girl looks up,
baffled. Um... "
"You know. Where
you get the bagels."
The girl winds
up, "Uh, upstairs, I think."
We're in the basement.
You have to take an escalator down a flight from 8th Ave to enter the Food
Emporium. Very clever. Very cheeky. "Upstairs".
The girl starts
ringing me up. The lady isn't going anywhere.
"What place are
you looking for?," I ask. Lots of places have bagels".
The lady is happy to
continue.
"Oh, you know.
For the morning. "
"For
breakfast?"
"Yes"
"Well, there's a
pretty good diner at 52nd & 8th. They got decent bagels. And really any
deli..."
"52nd?"
"Yeah"
"Is it called the
Starshine? Or Starlight? Star-something?”
"Yeah, I think,
that's right"
A line is beginning to
form behind me. I swipe my card and wait to sign.
"I was really
hoping for a bakery, you know? Where they make them fresh".
"Well, there was
this great place on the Upper West Side, called H & H. They were the best
but they closed last year."
"Oh, NO!",
she says dejectedly.
She's starting to feel the eyes of the queue filing up behind
her. I scrawl my ridiculous, indecipherable signature with the little black
plastic pen on the touchscreen.
"I know. They were there for like 50 years. But hey, any deli
is gonna have a decent bagel. And definitely that diner on 52nd in the morning."
"Okay," she says cheering slightly.
"And, hey, you're
in New York. You gotta shop around, try a buncha places."
"Thank you", she says smiling and heading toward
the escalator.
She's going upstairs.
That's where the bagels are, you know…
I grab my plastic bag,
turning to the people staring at me.
"Tourist
Board", I say.
I walk up the
escalator. The excited lady is still there near the door. I stop her.
"Hey," I
say, "There is actually a really great bakery at 44th & 9th."
"Really?"
"I'm not sure if they
do bagels. But croissants, cupcakes, sandwiches , muffins, everything fresh.
It's called Amy's Bread"
"44th?"
"Yeah. And like I
said, it's New York. Ya gotta...
The Carnegie Delicatessen..."
"Of
COURSE!", she says beaming, walking away.
"On 5th...",
I call after her carrying home my warm Petaluma beer.
And you cannot tell me
that stopping and thinking and helping this woman who is probably in her
mid-fifties and maybe on her own and on her way back to her hotel room at the
Hilton Garden across the street and just so excited to be in New York and
to have a bagel in the morning, you cannot tell me that that did not just
happen and that Summer wasn't there for every second of it, because I fucking
well feel her. And that little
piece in my heart that keeps me safe, that keeps me from completely dissolving
into despair, that thing that tells me that she is not gone is somehow right.
Because I can feel her in that moment and know I will be with her again. I just
have to get through this. And if I do it right and listen closely she will
tell me how. Love you, little sweetheart. Love you forever.
