Icy Lake Michigan

Amy,
This city is as windy as the rumors say and just as beautiful. We took the train into town today. It probably took around twenty minutes for us to make it; I imagine it’s nice to always have people with you when going from place to place. It felt nice today anyway. A young boy sat in an aisle seat a couple of rows down and caught eyes with me a time or two. I waved and smiled at him, and he returned the favor. Instead of moving a few seats closer to him to talk, like I wanted to, I worried about his family that rode with him. It seemed like a quick way to start trouble; I imagine this place is full of creeps.
It was a stupid way to think; they wouldn’t have cared, and we would’ve had a nice time.

We wandered the streets all day eating giant pizza, smoking cigarettes, and stopping in bars for beers. I came to this city with my oldest friends, but most of the time I kept my headphones on. The buildings cast the biggest shadows here Amy; it would so easy to disappear. I remembered how you told me you couldn’t wait to move to a big city, this big city. You told me this the first time I asked you to get something to eat.

We walked to the park and saw the icy Lake Michigan where everyone dared me to test the thickness. We all laughed about the idea, but to tell you the truth, I guess I mulled the thought over pretty good. I figured I’d dive in, lose my clothes once I was a bit further out, and let my legs carry me until my friends were gone. No, I wasn’t scared I would freeze to death; I knew the water wouldn’t phase me. Once the coast was clear, I’d get out and go try and find the boy from the train. He’d be walking down the street or something with his sisters and mom, and I’d say, “Hey, didn’t I see you on the train this morning?” He’d smile and tell me I did, and I’d ask his name and tell him mine. I’d ask him if he liked riding the train into the city. I’d give him a high-five goodbye and tell him to take good care of his family. It sounds stupid now that I’ve written it down. I just really wanted him to know how cool I thought he was. My friends had to stop me from jumping in.

We wandered until the moon came around, and when the street lights came on, they left the city in an orange hue. They told me of ghosts; I couldn’t tell if they comforted me or would bring nightmares. Were they local or did they follow me from Memphis? David knew of a party that a friend of his was attending, so when our legs were tired, we gave her a call and headed that way. The night-time buildings brought you to mind. I thought of the architects that dug this place into the dirt. I thought of Roark and Dominique.

Along the way, everyone stopped into a Seven-Eleven for a snack and bathroom break. I bought a donut and waited outside where I watched an old man sitting on some steps. Periodically, he fell into the strangest fits; he’d start mumbling and turning his head back and fourth (like he was saying “no”, but he did it much too quickly for that to be all he meant); his eyes closed, he shook his hands which he held in loose fists. Sometimes he would just shake his head and mumble or only shake his head, but his eyes were never open. I couldn’t tell if it looked more like a song or a ghost in his head. Five or so minutes before the first of my friends came out, he leaned his head on a step and rested. For how long these calm moments last I’m sure is unknowable, but I am glad his waves are not always so rough.

The party sat mid way up a tall building in dark apartment with air thick of smoke and the music loud. Around fifteen people mingled with cheap beer in hand trying to find the beat or a friend. The familiarity almost made me puke. There was no dancing, only sitting and standing; one slept on the couch amongst the commotion. I mostly sat in a semi-centrally located chair and looked out the huge window that graced the apartment’s beaten present. A person or two started conversation with me; one in particular talked to me about my shoes. We had the same brand but different colors. He seemed like a nice guy, but I don’t know anything about that. Time passed, and I found myself standing at the window buried in some thought. The music was so loud Amy. Do people really like yelling at each other? You have to get so close to them to be heard or to hear; those smiles scream phony and their breath of beer. Skin never looked so wrong. What are these people looking for? How many times have I sat with these exact same people saying the exact same things, looking just like I thought they would? The only difference is place. I’m wasting everything. When my head grew too heavy, I decided I’d leave and walk around the city and look for the boy from the train and the old man. I mean I knew I didn’t have a phone number or anything, but my head told me things would figure themselves out. I’d find one then the other, and they’d take me to a safe quiet corner that they knew, and we’d talk with out yelling and the old man would sing us the song in his head. I’d cry as soon as the song started, I knew it. I’d tell them I was sorry for being scared before, and when it was time to go, when the sun was on his way back up and my phone full of worried missed calls, I’d give my new friends all my clothes and all my money. I’d shake their hands and kiss their cheeks before running naked through the streets and swimming Lake Michigan until I could feel the water.

I left silent through the crowd to the door, into the elevator, and into the street. The ghosts were waiting for me there, and I had to walk with my head down to keep my moral up. It didn’t last long, and the buildings looked taller than ever. I stared and watched them being built in reverse until nothing but dirt and materials remained. Time moved forward again, and I imagined the men constructing a building that I’d designed. One I designed for you. I’d say that I hoped you wouldn’t get lonely here and that if you did, you could always come home to Memphis, and I’d always welcome you in. We could kiss the way were supposed to, and when you felt better I’d take you home to the city. You’d ask me to stay; I’d tell you I had to leave, but I would stay anyway.
Your friend,
Frank