I pressed the button to signal the bus driver to pull over at the next stop. As I did, the bus pulled past a stop.
“Hey, you didn’t want to get off there, did you?” the driver called back to me.
“Nope,” I said.
“Okay.” He stopped the bus three blocks over at the stop I wanted. “See ya.”
“Thanks.” I stepped off the bus, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. It was cold out this morning — I was thinking mid-to-high 30s, but I couldn’t be certain. And I didn’t have my phone with me, so I couldn’t check.
I turned right at the light, and then went a few blocks down to Third Street, where I crossed and ducked into an alley between an antiques store and an abandoned building. I went behind the abandoned building and climbed up three flights of stairs, then a short ladder to get to the roof.
I looked around. The sun glared in my eyes, making me squint. A breeze came along, shoving ancient newspapers toward the edge of the roof. I didn’t see anyone.
“Hello?” I said.
“Over here,” a voice called. I went around the corner and found Jonah sitting against the wall by a vent, smoking.
“Hi,” I said.
He looked up. “Hey.” He exhaled some smoke. “I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.”
Jonah doesn’t believe in texting; he likes to call people. “I couldn’t find my phone,” I said, and sat down next to him. Well, more like smooshed up against him. He couldn’t move his left arm and I couldn’t move my right.
“Oh,” he said, taking a long drag. “What happened to it?”
“Well, if I knew, then it wouldn’t be lost, would it?”
He smiled. I smiled, too, making me realize that my lips were chapped, so I licked them.
“Did you sleep last night?” I said.
He shrugged. “A little bit.” He looked over at me. “Did you sleep?”
“A little bit.”
We settled against each other and looked out at the skyline . . . well, really, the vintage detergent ad on the wall of the building next to the abandoned building. For years, the city was going to do something with it . . . paint over it, cover it with another ad, et cetera. But then a kitschy little restaurant moved in that building and decided to keep the ad. I once asked the owner about it and she said it felt like it gave the building flavor. “And it seems like we’ve been here longer than we have,” she said, winking.
Jonah and I sat on the roof of this building a lot. Most days, we sat on the left side of the building and stared at the ad, because it faced away from the sun. The front and right sides of the building had an unbelievable glare in the mornings, and the back faced a very appealing display of dumpsters and trash bags. In the evenings, you could see the sun from the front, but not the right side, and on the left side, it was mostly blocked by the spire of the local Episcopalian church. We sat on this roof mostly in the mornings because we’re morning people. But we’re also night people, too. We don’t sleep very much. Early mornings are usually free. Nights, however, are for fixing computers (Jonah) and drawing (me).
From about 1910 to 1960, the building was a post office (and a very big, very elaborate one, if I do say so myself), and fell into disrepair when the post office moved into a big shipping complex across town. In the late ‘60s, somebody made it into an art gallery. It was successful enough that the owner sold it to retire (and quite possibly move to Florida), but the next owner drove it into bankruptcy. Then, in the late ‘80s, someone tried to make a nightclub out of it, but couldn’t maintain enough profits to keep it open, so that closed down after a couple of years. In the mid-‘90s, someone put a fancy restaurant in there, one of those kinds only seat you if you have a reservation two weeks in advance, but you can only get a reservation if you’re somebody important, like the mayor. The restaurant did pretty well from what I heard, and found a better building two streets over to move into. Ever since then, the building’s been abandoned. It doesn’t even have a name anymore. Everyone just calls it The Building. In the past few years, people have talked about making it into one thing or another, but nothing’s ever come of it so far. I’m not even sure it belongs to anyone, technically. I want to go inside and look around, but the front doors are sealed, and the side, back, and roof doors are rusted shut. At least the stairs to the roof don’t seem to be crumbling.
So we sit up here, Jonah and I. He smokes. I watch him. Sometimes I draw, but mostly I just like to look out at the city. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we make out. But we mostly just sit.
“What time is it?” I asked. We’d been up there for what felt like a while. He was on his third (since I’d been there, anyway) cigarette. My butt was numb and I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. I slipped my hand under my scarf to touch my neck. The coldness startled me, and I jumped, shivering, as my teeth chattered. I pulled my hand away.
Jonah dug into his coat’s pocket for his phone. “Seven-sixteen.”
I was right; we had been up here a while. At least twenty minutes.
“Maybe I should get a watch,” I said. I knew I had one. Somewhere. My late grandmother had given me one when I was about ten. I’d never worn it, and I figured the battery had been dead for at least seven years. I wasn’t too sure about the lifespan of watch batteries.
“Maybe you should find your phone,” he said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t lose it,” I said.
“I’m pretty sure you said you lost it.”
“Well, yeah, it’s lost. But it’s in my room. I think. My desk is a disaster.”
“No, really?” —sarcastically.
“I know, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I started my mixed-media piece three different times. I ruined two canvases.”
“Only two?”
“I tried starting over on one I’d already used.” I bit my lip. “I’m getting careless.”
Jonah smirked. “Must be a nice change, huh?”
“Very funny.” I was antsy, cold, and getting colder, so I pulled myself up (nearly elbowing Jonah in the face in the process — luckily he ducked away in time), folded my arms across my chest, and started jumping up and down. The edges of my scarf flailed around wildly.
“Watch it,” he said, slapping my scarf away.
“Sorry,” I said, jumping.
He looked up and started laughing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cold!” A breeze came along, blowing my hair into my face. I stopped jumping and shoved it back, slightly annoyed. Note to self: get a trim. And soon.
“You look ridiculous.” He’d stopped laughing, but he was still grinning.
“I know.” I was slightly winded, and the air was so cold it was hard to breathe. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand to try to warm up the air. “You want to go get some coffee?”
“Sure.” He extinguished his cigarette against the floor and stood up. “Let’s go.”
I headed for the ladder and was halfway down it when I realized he wasn’t nearby. “Hey,” I said. I climbed back up. Jonah was standing over near the right side, squinting against the sun at the city.
“Don’t you wish you lived here?” he said.
“I do live here,” I said.
Labels: january brings few faces
