Strange Night

It was a strange evening. I missed the stop on the Harlem cross-town bus so instead of getting in the subway I ended up wondering where I was in the middle of Harlem. It was frustrating to be in a New York City bus that stops at every corner.

Then after I decided to actually take the train from one of next express stop the bus got close to, I encountered something weird. On my way out of the train once I arrived at the pianist's station, I encountered a mugging. I didn't know it was a mugging. I saw two men wrestling in front of the vending machine. I thought maybe they were just fooling around, but then no one was laughing. There were other people too, and they were equally puzzled. But when the small white man under the towering black man started stammering "Help!" we had to finally overcome the natural denial and recognized that something was wrong, that an assault was taking place. But we didn't know what to do. Until one man started going closer to the wrestling match. At that point the black man released the small white man and started backing out. What I didn't understand was why he didn't just run away. The one brave man who confronted him asked if there was a problem. The black man didn't run away and denied that there was a problem. He then walked out coolly but he left jacket behind.

I was shocked, and felt a little ashamed that I did nothing to help the small man. I was in denial that something like this could happen in front of me, in front of three people. We didn't walk away like people say New Yorkers would, but we didn't know what to do. The other man, the one not me and not confronting the black man, started calling someone, presumably the police. I thought about taking a picture of the situation, but then I got scared. I was afraid the black man, who was really muscular, would come attacking me. I wasn't thinking, just feeling that the best way was to avoid confrontation, especially now that the assault was over. I was protecting my own hide, I guess.

After I surfaced I saw a police car just right outside. How ironic. I went up to the officers and told them what happened and pointed out the small white man that was also emerging from the subway. Then I left, turning around once to see that the police was talking to the gesticulating small white man. I was continuing my life after that. I was picking up some grocery for the pianist and going up her apartment. There she was preparing dinner for us. There life was back to the familiar picture. The familiar picture that I didn't know was familiar, the familiar picture that I thought was full of dramas, until I saw something inexplicable happen in front of me, something that made me wonder about my own cowardice, my own humanity. I realized all that two months of kung fu didn't give me the confidence to confront someone whom I could in theory defeat, but our kung fu was never put in practice. There was shame in me. I was in denial until it was obvious that a crime was happening. I didn't leave, at least, and I backed up the man that actually confronted the attacker. But still. The moment for heroism came and disappeared.

I tried to tell this to the pianist, but she had her own drama of the day, the drama with organizing for her concert, the drama of distance. I felt distant and alone when I was listening to her because, well, there wasn't anyone to listen to me. It was touching that she took the trouble to make dinner for us. It was important that I didn't go back to an empty home as I have done for most of my past nine years. But then I felt the shaken spirit didn't get to release itself because I had to listen to someone else's distress.

So today I told her just now that I felt a little disconnected and don't know what to do this evening, am not sure I would see her. And when she said perhaps it would be better that we took a short break from each other, until after her concert was over, I got upset. I hate "short breaks"; I hate when someone takes distance from me because they can't handle my loneliness. When I am feeling lonely the last thing I want is to be told I need to be alone more. It's one thing to say you aren't capable of taking care of me; it's something different to say I am the reason you're disconnected so I will leave you alone. A subtle difference, I guess.

There's a constant fear in me that despite all the beautiful things that have happened between us, drama is just around the corner because we are always carrying our past. I hate being alone, being left alone. I know that it's only a matter of time before we find areas that we will drive the other person crazy. It's normal when you spend so much time together, when you invest so much of your hope and energy to shake off that baggage. High expectations, tiring.

But tonight perhaps it is good I will be away from her. I didn't like to hear that I will be away from her until next Monday. But so be it.