It was a black day. It must have been the shadows cast by the ominous sky. Or how the rain reflected the cold basement lair onto the pavement. Or that black van.
As much as Marissa morbidly savored the cold lonliness of Washington Heights, she couldn't helped but be scared to death by the black van. Screeching, zooming, roaring, shooting its way down Baker Street. Then a scorching turn, an icy splash of rain against the basement windows, and it was gone. Again, the early dawn was black.
And black the day would remain. No sunlight to dispel the dark, damp chill of the menacing Baltimore landscape. Concrete, urban, impersonal -- it was all black.
If Marissa had experienced an Emo phase in high school, she might have suffered a relapse. But she didn't -- she was too busy with... too busy, enough said. She didn't have time for sulking and misery. She did, this morning, however, have time to throw on a stark black shirt, durable jeans, and some don't-even-try black pumps.
No black eye shadow. Never. To the residents of Washington Heights, Marissa would never appear in the least bit discouraged. Only Oscar recognized the subtle mood shifts, hidden by her strikingly beautiful presentation. Oh, Oscar. The closest thing Marissa had to a friend in Washington Heights -- the closest thing she had to reliability.
Well, there were the loony late night drunks. She could always count on them. Like Kevin, for instance, one of the usual suspects. He was a fellow Hopkins student, but about as different as Marissa as she could possibly imagine. And never a chance. Some of her university friends thought him cute -- in a creepy, awkward sort of way -- but he didn't exude the odor of success. And as unsuperficial as Marissa tried to be, she couldn't resist the sweet smell of money.
She wandered toward Oscar's thinking about boys. A rarity, surprisingly. It must have been the introspective nature of the morning. The blackness.
Kevin -- nope. Finn -- too young. Marissa chuckled -- 30 or older, with at least an M.D. Charlie was kind of cute -- maybe for a one-night stand -- but, ooo, Marissa caught herself. She didn't do one night stands. Well, no, Oscar doesn't count. He's just Oscar.
He was safe. And she liked safety. No one could blame her -- she was Massachusetts girl caught in a Chesapeake ghetto. So she walked toward Oscar's, eyes forlorn, gazing into the bleak blackness, and she hoped for a different day. For a girl so driven, so motivated, so focused, Marissa could not even escape the overwhelming decay of Washington Heights.
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Train of Thought
It was another rainy afternoon. Luckily, Kevin wouldn't be out much. He had only one class today, an afternoon lecture on the endocrine system.
Kevin sat alone in the car of the SMARTA train, staring blankly through the window across the aisle, watching flashes of orange light the color of macaroni and cheese pass by, interrupting the blackness that was the bowels of the city.
Lulled by the rhythmic clacking of wheel on rail, Kevin was lost amid the sea of thoughts swimming through his head. He reflected on the crazed events of the morning.
Especially noteworthy was his lunch with Maria. She had bumped into him as they were both leaving their apartments in search of decent food, a rare commodity among the residents of Washington Heights, it seemed. They had ambled down the wet pavement together, the both of them skipping the sidewalk in Maria's usual, peculiar manner. Then came the fun. The sandwich Kevin had been eating had a serious onion leakage problem. One piece of onion that fell onto the table seemed to flip a very strange switch in Maria, causing her to fall into a silence only to be broken with shouts of despair and affection, followed by her flight from the diner.
Kevin's thoughts also wandered to an attractive young woman he had seen around Washington Heights. She, too, wore a Johns Hopkins sweatshirt. He wondered what she might be doing around Washington Heights so much. Did she live there, too?
Kevin was aroused from his meditations by the squeal of brakes as the train entered a station. Glancing up, Kevin saw the sign reading Johns Hopkins University. Grabbing his bag, he trod onto the platform and up the stairs, returning to the gray world outside.
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