EYEHEARTZOMBIES

All my life, from living in a tiny, one bedroom apartment with my parents, to living in the big house I had before I ended up in the Big House, I loved the City. It’s always ‘the City,’ have you noticed that? Never ‘a city.’ And I always loved the feeling of home that you get from walking the streets in New York City. It’s the biggest house you’ll ever find. It was to me, at least.

So, after a quick stop at my apartment to drop off and stash away most of the money I had just been given, I hopped a train to Manhattan. I had five hundred dollars in my pockets and all day to spend ‘em. Wait, scratch that. I had until three. Then Cindy got off, and Heaven help me if I let a girl get away from me over buying stuff. I’ve always been a sucker for dames; it was my downfall, even.

Anyway, I hopped a train, got off near Broadway. I had plenty of money, so I wanted to make the most of the day. I walked down Broadway, enjoying the sights and smells. I had never really had much time for this part of New York; I was too poor for culture. I looked at all the billboards and posters for the plays and musicals at the theaters. I watch people in Times Square; people with very purposeful steps and people strolling, people with their heads down, watching their feet, and people throwing popcorn and bread crumbs to the birds. It was nearing lunch time, so I bought a pretzel from a cart vendor. I tossed the last couple of bites to the birds as I walked toward Wall Street.

For those of us who never grew up with any money, Wall Street held a special place in our New York mythos. It was a place of power; a place of money and fame. When the stock market crashed a few years ago, back in ‘29, most of us had no idea what it meant. When the rags reported people jumping from buildings and blowing their brains out, we started to think there might be more to it. I’ve never been the greedy type, so killing yourself over some lousy bits of paper seemed about as smart as killing yourself over some dame that got away. There was always more out there, so don’t take it so hard.

I didn’t stay long to look at Wall Street, it being so much less than I expected, and I continued my seaward journey. My next big stop was Battery Park, at the tip of Manhattan. I had been here a time or two before, but I always loved it. Green grass and trees surrounded by ocean…and all of that surrounded by a huge city. It was just too strange of a mixture for me to pass up. I strolled around the park for an hour or so, then began my walk back toward Grand Central Station for my trip back home.

I took a very random path up Manhattan, wanting to see a few more places before I got back. And I was trying to think of what to do with Cindy that night. As I was crossing Delancy Street, I decided I’d bring her back to Manhattan tonight, take her into Chinatown for some good food and then maybe to Central Park for a moonlit buggy ride. That sounded like a great idea to me, so I began to walk a bit faster, a smile on my face. I was eager to get this date started.

I passed Bellevue on my way to the Station. I didn’t know anyone in there, but the place scared me nonetheless. I had heard horrible stories about some of the patients there. Inmates is more like it, I thought. I still don’t know if it was as horrible as I had heard and thought. I really don’t want to know. That much sickness in one place can’t be a good thing. I hurried past it.

When I reached Grand Central, I quickly bought a return ticket and hopped onto the train. I got back to my apartment around two-thirty and I ran to take another shower and get dressed. When I was looking for something to wear, I realized I hadn’t gone shopping. I had planned to buy a nice, new suit, and I had been so caught up in my tour of Manhattan and my own thoughts that I had completely forgotten about going to Macy’s and Saks Fifth Avenue. What I had would have to do, I guess.

At a quarter to three I stepped out onto the street in front of my apartment building and started walking the few blocks to the greasy spoon — Sally’s, it was called — where Cindy worked. I slowed my steps at the edge of the diner’s block when I saw she was already outside. I called to her and she turned to see who I was.

“Hi!” I said, hoping to God she still remembered me from this morning. Her face brightened — a good sign! — and she waved at me.

“Hi yourself,” she beamed. “I thought you had forgotten.”

I glanced at my watch. It was just now three o’clock. I looked back up at her. “You must run at a different time than everyone else, doll. It’s just now three and that’s when you said to be here. So here I am.” I smiled at her again and she smiled back.

“I know,” she said. She slipped an arm through mine and looked up at me through her long lashes. “Where are we going?”

“I thought I’d take you out on the town,” I said, smiling a suggestive smile. “How does that take you?”

She hugged my arm a bit tighter. “Great,” she purred. We walked down the street a bit and I got a better look at her with no counter in the way. She was a girl that just wouldn’t stop. A real peach, if you know what I mean. “I should go to my place, first,” she said, “to get ready for our date. You can come, too.” She smiled at me again, setting me on fire. I nodded to show that I thought that was a splendid idea.

She lived two blocks to the north of the diner. We walked there, arm in arm, not talking about anything important. The trees that lined the street, the weather, movies we had seen recently. We reached her apartment building shortly and she told me to follow her in. A sign on the front said that men weren’t allowed, but she said that didn’t apply during the day. I followed like an obedient puppy dog.

Her apartment was just two rooms, plus the bathroom. She sat me down on the couch in the living room and said she’d be right back. She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, to change. She must not have caught the latch, ’cause the door swung open a bit. I know this is the most unbelievable event in a story, but it really did happen. I saw her waitressing dress land on the floor, following her shoes. They were the flat-soled kind that nurses and waitresses seem to wear everywhere in the world.

She walked over to the dresser, half-naked. I could barely contain myself. A nineteen-year-old boy shouldn’t be alone with undressing women. Especially not women as smokin’ as this mouse was. She pulled a fuzzy sweater out of the dresser drawer and turned to go somewhere else in the room. The closet, maybe. When she turned, she saw that the door was open and that I could see her — that I was watching, even. I turned away as soon as I saw her notice me, but before I did, I saw her smile a little smile at me. She closed the door, firmly catching the latch this time. I sat in the living room, convinced she’d never go out with me that night.

A few minutes later, she walked out in the sweater and a shin-length wool skirt. She had put on some fresh makeup and looked radiant. She smiled at me again, the same smile as when she caught me peeping her, and asked if I was ready. We left for our date.