Carolyn's Sky

I met Carolyn at a health-food place on St. Marks.   The place is long gone now, but I loved the waitresses there and they loved me.   Really.   They did.   Well, not like that, but they loved me. 

Anyway, one of them said to me one day, "Hey, Joe, you'd love Carolyn, and I think she'd love you!" 

"Really?" I thought. "Well, make it happen."

Carolyn was a dancer, it turns out, and taught movement and dance at the same day care center that Janelle, the waitress did. 

"Come back tomorrow at around two o'clock.   She'll be here."

And so, we met.   It was during the Christmas season.  We sat at the same table in the health-food place.  She seemed to like me but when I offered to drive her to the airport, she flipped.   She thought that was the greatest thing one person could do for another.   Damn, she was pretty.   Very, very pretty.  And a dancer, so I don't have to tell you about her overall physicality.  

I drove her to the airport a few days later, for her Christmas visit home.  She promised that, upon her return, she would take me out to dinner. 

"How about Peking Duck?" she asked.

"Sure!"

"Well, then, it's a date.   I'll call you as soon as I get back."

And she did.  We had a wonderful dinner in Chinatown, Peking Duck, it was, and then we attended a dance recital that included one of her pals.   Very nice.  She lived on the upper east side, not more than a quick cab ride from me.   I saw her home.  I offered to cook dinner for her to return the favor for the duck.  She accepted.

So, I cooked and she was floored.   She couldn't believe I could cook so well.    I served the food but before we ate, a walked over to where she was sitting, raised her chin gently with my finger, and placed a long, gentle, warm kiss on her mouth.    And she responded.    It was a great "first kiss."    Anyway, I had her in the palm of my hand because of that meal.   We moved to sofa and watched some TV and "made out." Nothing more.   She was clearly not ready, so I didn't push it.   She was special and lovely, really really lovely, so I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize our budding romance.  Besides, she revealed that she was a Buddhist, whatever that meant.   I thought it had to mean something, so it gave me pause in rushing into a sexual encounter.   Those things are always best left to happen naturally.    That was my philosophy, anyway.  

A couple of more dates, a few meals, then lunch, after which she said, "I'm going with some friends this weekend to ski.  It's something we do every year."    Oh, I remember it so clearly.    She wore a gray trench coat in the winter chill, with a red scarf.   She was so beautiful.   I remember telling her how beautiful she was.   She like to hear it, too.   

"Skiing?   Sounds great."

"Yeah, just a bunch of friends, you know, it's fun.  We go every year."

"Sounds like fun."

"I'll call you when I get back."

"Can't wait to hear all about it!" 

We kissed gently, and as she walked away . . .  and then it happened.  There came that awful, cold, cold shiver, that portent of tragedy that comes from. . .?   Where?    Wherever it comes from it comes to warn you.  And woe to him who ignores or downplays it.   Pity him.  Pity Me.  

And so, at that moment, as had happened so many times before, I knew that I would not see Carolyn again. As she walked away I thought, "Take a good look, Joe, because this will be the last you ever see of her. . . take a good look. . ."  And I did.  I watched her as she walked away. I saw her stop at the light on the corner and wait for it to turn green.  When it did, I watched her cross the street and descend the stairs down into the subway.   The last thing I saw was her short cropped black hair on the top of her head.    

Next night, she called, saying she was about to leave, and that she would call me as soon as she returned  on Sunday, and that she would miss me.  How sweet and considerate!  I told her so. She made me feel so. . . loved.     (Maybe I was wrong.   Maybe she did still want a relationship with me.   Maybe my fears were unjustified!   Maybe she'll call me on Sunday, just like she said, and we'll just pick up from there, fall deeply in love, if we weren't already, and get married!    Maybe this chill down my spine was. . .)   No.  I knew better.   But still, I hoped.   Against all the forces of the universe,  I hoped.  I foolishly, stupidly, childishly, hoped.   And I paid the price for that hope.

Sunday.    Sunday came.    Sunday came and went.   No phone call, no Carolyn.   Fool that I am, I stayed home, waiting for her to call, hoping against hope, trying, in vain, to dismiss what I knew to be true.  I tried ~ in vain.

I struggled not to call, not to appear, "needy," as we all know, women find that more of a turn off than having only one credit card. . 

But by Thursday, I had to call.  There was no answer, so I left a message. 

"Hi, Carolyn, it's Joe.  Hope you had a great time.   Call when you can.   Bye."

Days passed.   Nothing.  My pain, my curiosity, my longing, my conflicted hopes and desires became inflamed.   But now, I was angered by her lack of respect.  I was a mess.  I called again. 

"Hi, Carolyn, it's Joe again.  It's kind of been a while, and honestly I'm a bit concerned.  You didn't get killed on the slopes did you?    That would be a bummer.   Please call when you can, thanks doll."

Days turned into weeks and I left more and more urgent messages but always kept my emotions and temper under complete control.   Finally, though, I could hold my anger back no longer.

"Carolyn.   Look, if there's something wrong, if you don't want to see me anymore, I'm a big boy, trust me, I can handle it, just please, dammit, have the decency to call me, and tell me.   Okay?  Jesus.  Just call me.  That's really not too much to ask."

Well, in only a couple of hours, she called me.   Like nothing was wrong, like no time had passed with that insipid "sing-song" quality in her voice that women use when they can't admit they've totally fucked up.  "Oh, hi! Joe!  Hi--eee!   How are you?" 

"Fine. Carolyn.   What happened to you?   You know I've been trying to reach you.   You said you'd call when you got back."

"Well, Joe, you know how sometimes, you need some alone time, like, you know, you need time just to be alone, and, I'm sure you understand, that I've been in a place where I needed to be alone, just like, you know some alone time and I needed.. . "

"Yeah! Carolyn, I get it!   Alone time.  Right."

"I knew you'd understand."

"Yeah, well, okay, do me favor.  When you think you may want some company give me a call, okay?  Thanks."

"Oh, yes, definitely.  Joe."

"Good-bye."

So, that was the end of Carolyn.   She made sure to steer clear of the health-food place.   I took it rather hard, to be honest.   Much harder than I thought I would or should.  This one really hurt.

* * * 

Months later, Janelle came over to me at the restaurant and said, "Joe, Carolyn mentioned you today."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she said that she thinks you're mad at her."

I thought for a moment.

"Janelle, do me favor.   Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Joe, anything."

"Okay.  Would you tell Carolyn this, and it has to be exactly the way I put it, okay?    Can you do this for me?"

"Sure.  What do you want me to say?"

"Tell her: 'Joe asked me to ask you in these exact words, Carolyn, what color is the sky in your world?'  Do you have that Janelle?  Have you got it?"

"Yeah, Joe. 'Joe asked me to ask you in these exact words, what color is the sky in your world?'"  

"Thank you, Janelle."

I was told that Carolyn did not respond well to that question.