After the downfall of a formative relationship, the narrator attempts to face the past on a surreal walk through Washington, D.C.

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1.

I first saw him in dreams throughout my childhood, and then at the veterinarian’s office in my twenties. I watched as he stood silently in the corner of the room while the rest of my family wept. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He followed me into my car, where I finally broke down and cried halfway through the drive home, and he was gone before I reached the driveway.

In hindsight, it was easy to tell when he had been on his way for another visit. I’d get irritated at small things or worry about my relationships. Sometimes I wouldn’t be able to catch more than a couple hours of sleep for an entire week. A steady sense of dread would grow in my chest as he got closer, and eventually, I would lose my appetite. If I was lucky, I noticed the signs and dealt with them, and he wouldn’t have to arrive.

I went to sleep on the last night of June and woke up shortly after to the sound of banging on my front door, then silence. It was freezing in my bedroom – so much so that I could see my breath forming a cloud in front of my face, even in near total darkness. For a moment, I wondered if the air conditioning might be malfunctioning, but it was too quiet for that. I listened for the tree outside my bedroom window. It was a windy summer in Washington D.C., and when the noise of the city died down each night, I heard her leaves dancing in the breeze, making wisps and brushstrokes against the glass. Tonight, there was only silence.

I leaned over and grabbed my robe, got out of bed, and pulled the blinds up. My stomach sank. Half of the window was obscured by several inches of snow that must have accumulated throughout the night. I noticed footprints in the snow. I squinted my eyes to confirm, and then a knot appeared in my chest as I accepted that he had arrived.

2.

My entire body was hit by the force of the weather conditions when I stepped outside. It was sub-zero. Snow was frozen mid-air and packed so densely on the ground that my boots hardly skimmed the surface. He didn’t speak, or motion, or wave, and quickly began walking toward 17th Street. I followed him as I rubbed my eyes, but the houses on either side of us remained blurry. I understood why she (the tree) was so quiet – her branches were frozen and all her leaves had fallen off in the storm. Everything else was hard to decipher. I couldn’t tell what color any of the houses were, all of the lights were out. The street was empty of any cars. It was so, so dark, and I could only follow the light of the moon and a dim lantern he was holding a few yards in front of me.

He turned left toward a similar scene on 17th Street: more snow, more blurry buildings, and no signs of life other than a restaurant a block-and-a-half up the road, lit by a chandelier that spotlit a red-painted awning on the brownstone’s front steps. As I made my way closer, music and laughter began to travel down the street as the hostess opened the door to let two shivering old ladies inside. They were the only other pedestrians on the road.

Floriana was beautiful in the winter – inside and out. Its walls were covered in cracked paintings and shimmering string lights; its tables sat drenched in patterned tablecloths and antique silverware. He waited outside as I walked up to the door. I gave my jacket to the hostess and looked between the slit of the two curtains separating the foyer from the dining room. Somebody was playing jazz, people were talking, and waiters were shuffling by with trays of food.

I avoided looking at my own reflection as I walked up past the mirrors lining the staircase. I couldn’t tell what color the carpet was, but it was stained with damp footprints from all of the snow that tracked inside. When I reached the top of the steps, I heard them immediately. I paused for a moment, and then peeked into the room.

I saw them sitting at the table furthest from the entrance and closest to the window, in a smaller dining room painted red with candles burning on each table. A waiter was standing next to them with a bottle of Spanish red wine. I watched as ____ took the first sip while that Jack sat slightly slouched across the table, leaning his chin into his hands and watching for ____’s reaction. He seemed pleased, and the waiter poured them each a glass as they continued their conversation.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I knew what they were talking about. Jack alternated between looking at ____, and gazing at the painting hung up on the wall to their right. I sighed and found an empty chair by the entrance. The room was full of conversation and clinking silverware, although I couldn’t make out any faces other than theirs. Snow was falling outside the window. Jack finished his first glass of wine rather quickly. He seemed nervous.

I focused my vision on the painting, which was maybe the clearest thing in the room. “JACK & ____” was written in cursive on the bottom corner of it. My chest ached as I remembered how full of hope I was at that dinner table. I wanted to roll my eyes at the way he beamed at that painting, but if I’m being honest, I was envious. At the time, I supposed that I was falling in love, but looking at him now, it sparkled from his eyes. I wondered what had happened to all of that hope. I didn’t understand where it went when there wasn’t anybody, or anything, to point it at. I imagined hope waiting quietly in a corner of my mind to be called out again someday.

3.

By the time I got back outside, I was able to make out the names of a few more restaurants across the street. It was still quiet, aside from the low hum of a snowplow that was making its way down Church. A few of the buildings had lamps turned on behind their windows. The wind began to howl and I buttoned up my coat, following him down the street.

I couldn’t tell if the night was beginning or ending. I looked up at the sky and noticed that the clouds were beginning to disappear. The moon was full, working hard to light us a path in the snow. There weren’t any footsteps ahead of us, so the top layer of snow cracked under each step we took. I spent most of the walk thinking about Floriana.

As we turned onto 14th Street, I looked down toward U Street and saw an infinite road that disappeared into the black void of the night sky. D.C. is a city that sleeps, but it was nonetheless strange to see this part of town so devoid of life. I recognized a few of the buildings as we continued walking. Doi Moi had purple lights strung along the awning and Gypsy Kitchen looked like it might be open, but both were empty. I avoided looking in the direction of Aslin.

Up the block, the door to Black Cat swung open. I could feel the bass reaching my chest from all the way upstairs as we got closer to the entrance. He gestured for me to go inside. I paused and let out a nervous laugh, realizing that I hadn’t opened my mouth the entire night, and told him that we never went here. His arm didn’t move, so I walked in and made my way up the steps.

The crowd was packed. I scanned the room and saw myself sitting next to my roommate, Jake, to the right of the stage. Somehow, we had grabbed the only two seats in the entire venue. I didn’t understand why I was brought back here, but I wasn’t going to complain. This was such a good show. Of course I wanted to relive it.

I still wasn’t sure if that Jack would be able to see this Jack, so I threw my hood up as I walked closer. Even amidst a sea of sound, I could hear their laughter from a distance. My shoulders relaxed. It had been a while since I’d thought about this night. Jake and I were here to see Illuminati Hotties. We shared a joint on the walk and must have spent the entire night laughing.

I watched them trade whispers, look away from one another to burst into laughter, make up stories about strangers, take photos of them, and sit together in silence once the band got up on stage. This was not the same Jack that I had seen at Floriana a few minutes ago. It was very clear that he had actually been here: watching the show with Jake, closing his eyes, laughing constantly.

I realized this must have been one of the only nights in the winter that I wasn’t completely preoccupied with ____. Jake and I took these photos together and couldn’t stop laughing at them. I had considered sending them to ____, but I figured he wouldn’t get it, so I kept it just for us. My phone stayed in my pocket the entire night.

I made my way closer to the front of the crowd when the house lights went down. Sarah Tuzdin and her bandmates took the stage. The drummer tapped his foot and the kickdrum drummed. Tuzdin looked back at her bandmates, stepped in front of the microphone, locked eyes with the crowd, and strummed her guitar, counting back from three. Her voice ripped through the crowd and burst the ceiling open, unveiling a sea of stars dancing in the night sky. The stage glowed in the moonlight.

I closed my eyes and allowed my body to relax. The crowd swayed with the music. I brought my hoodie down and wondered if the man to my right would feel me if I reached out and touched him. The song reached its peak and Tuzdin’s voice softened to a whisper as she plucked the guitar strings one at a time. The roof started to close; the stars became still. When the song ended, the man next to me turned to look me dead in the eyes and smiled. He cupped his hands to my ears and said “music will always sound good.”

4.

I went back downstairs and the music turned to abrupt silence the moment I walked out the door. I looked back and Black Cat was dark and empty. No show tonight. I was the only one on 14th street. Doi Moi’s string lights were off, the moon was back in her hiding spot behind the clouds, and snow was melting into slush under my shoes. Across the street, Aslin was open.

I didn’t want to go there. I couldn’t even remember why I had left Black Cat in the first place. There was no reason to waste another second where I didn’t belong. I thought about all of the nights I sat alone in my room while my roommate was in the kitchen, and I wished that I could just go back home and sit with him now.

Aslin was like a spinning magnet — alternating between pulling me toward it and pushing me away. It stung to even glance in that direction, but when I found the courage, it looked beautiful. The only space lit up at this hour on 14th street, its name shined in pink letters above a gas station-themed beer garden. Wooden picnic tables heated by overhead lamps and lit by warmly colored string lights waited for me inside a tent. I started to walk closer toward the entrance, pausing every couple of feet or so in the middle of the intersection. I didn’t like that I wasn’t able to see what was in there. I carefully stepped before the entrance, but I avoided looking into the tent. I started thinking about all of the days and nights I spent here, trying as hard as I could to predict which memory I was being led into. I peeked around the corner and saw a bartender inside. I still wasn’t sure what the rules were in this place, but I decided I would try to order a drink. The guy at the bar greeted me with a smile. We were the only two inside.

I looked at the lineup of IPAs on tap, but most of them were blurry. I couldn’t make out any of the names in full, but one contained the word “Orange,” and another had “Water.” I asked him to pick his favorite, and he filled up a glass with a lightly colored beer. I drank half of it on the spot and walked to the tent.

It was much warmer inside, and they were here. Both of them were still wearing their coats, gloves, and a hat. They were sitting across from each other at the only picnic table that wasn’t empty. Jack was almost finished with his beer and ____ was about a quarter of the way through his. I could tell from across the room that ____ was telling Jack a story. I decided to move closer to the table, and then I sat down right next to them. I wasn’t worried about either of them noticing me, especially Jack. His eyes were locked with ____’s and nothing else was going to catch his attention. ____ stuttered for a moment and briefly looked in my direction, but then he continued talking.

For the first time, I could hear what they were saying. ____ was in the middle of telling Jack a story about a time he went abroad, and had called his Mom on the second night because he wanted to go home. His roommate didn’t shut up all night. Jack told ____ that he’s actually a loud sleeper too, but felt too bad to say anything, to which ____ said that what he does in his sleep is not his problem. They were both laughing and I was smiling too. Everything else disappeared and it was just the three of us at the table with our drinks in a void of empty space.

Laughter lived at the Aslin picnic tables. I listened to it behave just like the song Sarah Tuzdin played across the street: beginning with a loud crescendo, rising and falling through peaks and valleys, and gently ending as its aftershocks grew further and further apart until the next story began and the whole process started over again. I remembered why I had to leave Black Cat, even though the music sounded so good.

I closed my eyes, drifting into my head while they continued talking. I thought about all of the nights we spent here, and how time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. It was very strange to hear myself laughing like that when I must have been crying in my room a few days, or hours, prior. At the time, it was like the bad stuff would go away while the good stuff was happening, but now I had to hold both at the same time.

Another story ends and “The World Spins” by Julee Cruise is playing on the speakers in my mind when the rest of the bar comes back into view. It is time to leave the tent, though my heart is still open and my stomach is still aching from second-hand laughter at the gas station beer garden.

5.

The quiet had run its course on 14th Street. I stood still at the exit of Aslin, lifting my collar to my nose and squinting as an icy gust of wind hit my face. Cars were speeding down the road in both directions as people walked by in groups of two or five or fifteen, hunched over with their faces pointed down at the sidewalk. I watched an older man grasp his hat with both hands in a desperate attempt to dissuade it from its longing to the wind, and finally give up the fight as he walked by me, looking back and watching his hat weave through the pedestrians and dance down the sidewalk until it turned a corner and disappeared.

I scanned the roads carefully and stopped. They were right across the street walking north toward U. I looked down at my boots that now sat soaked in a puddle, and figured it must have been pouring while I was in Aslin. My heart was picking up speed. I looked back up and noticed the sweater Jack was wearing. And then the umbrella on his side. It had only rained like this once last winter. I felt the blood rush to my head, and then something screamed my name from the distance. My palms began to drip sweat. I needed to stop them while I still could.

I pushed past a group of people huddled on the sidewalk. I couldn’t make out any of their faces. I yelled out my name, and then yelled it out again when nothing happened. They were still walking and getting further away from me. I ignored the red light and started running through the intersection to catch up with them. Right when I reached the corner, his claws gripped my shoulders and pulled me to the side. I couldn’t catch my breath to get any words out. I squirmed and tried as hard as I could to release myself from his grasp, but he was relentless. I finally asked him to please let me go. I needed to get to them in time. Jack wasn’t supposed to be here, he should have walked home right after dinner. I turned my head and looked at the hooded man in desperation, and finally, he softened his grip. I ran down the sidewalk, barreling through the crowds that blocked my path.

They were already halfway up the stairs when I got to Crush. I rummaged through my jacket pocket and found my wallet to show the bouncer my ID. He looked behind him, and then gave me a bewildered glance, but he finally shrugged and let me through.

I stomped my boots at the entrance. The bottom of my pants were soaked in a mixture of snow and freezing rain. The bar was completely packed. To the right, speakers were blaring electronic music that engulfed the entire first floor in a trance. I continued up the stairs, pausing when I made it to the top to catch my breath. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t prepared for this at all.

The upstairs bar was separated into two sections. On the right, a small barroom; on the left, a narrow bar that led into an outdoor space. I didn’t have to look to know that Jack and ____ were in the barroom, seated on a cushioned booth against the back wall. I peeked my head in and watched ____ order a drink while Jack looked down at his phone. My chest hurt. I wasn’t ready for him to see me, but I needed to get him out of there. I wondered if the entire crowd might turn in horror if they saw me walk in. Or maybe they would just think we were twins. I looked down and realized we were wearing the exact same outfit. I didn’t know what was happening.

I watched ____ sit down and put his arm around Jack, but as soon as Jack relaxed, he yanked his arm back and slid away from him. Jack’s head collapsed into his hands and I stepped back into the hall. It took my breath away. I remembered exactly how that felt – like a wave of scalding heat burned through my body and then left me cold and alone and embarrassed. I felt like a bad friend to myself for not knowing how to intervene.

I thought about how different this was from what I just encountered at Aslin. There was no laughter here. I looked back into the room. ____ was scanning the crowd and Jack was scanning ____, slowly inching closer to him. His hand hovered in the air like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to put it on ____’s back. I felt somebody tap me on the shoulder.

I turned around and a woman introduced herself. She was almost as tall as me, wearing a beige peacoat, black pants, and a scarf. I was caught off guard at how exposed I was here. People could just walk up to me now? She knew something was wrong and I told her my friend was in trouble. ____ walked right by us into the bathroom.

She offered to sit with me, so we found a table and she put her hands on mine, asking me to tell her more. I stumbled over my words. It was hard to fight the urge to pull my hands away from hers. I told her that I just really needed to help him, and then I explained the situation in as much detail as I could without revealing our shared identities. When I finished, she looked at me kindly and said,

“Did he ask you to come here and save him?”

Her words hit me like a knife. I told her that he didn’t even know he needed saving. He was so caught up in all of this that he would sit on that bench forever if he could. It wasn’t so different from Aslin after all. The fire alarm could start blaring, and Jack’s instinct would be to run toward ____, regardless of whether or not he was anywhere near the exit. She could sense my panic, but she remained calm.

“What if you just sit here for a while? He knows you’re here. I will go talk to him.”

I held my breath for a moment and asked her if she was sure.

“I’m sure. I saw him look at us while we were talking by the door. Just sit and be here. That’s all you can do.”

I warned her that he wasn’t going to budge, but she got up anyway and walked into the barroom. I could tell that she was stubborn in a good way, and I was surprised by how much our short interaction seemed to calm me down. I hoped that ____ was still in the bathroom.

I grew restless and quietly stood up to peek my head through the entrance of the room. She was sitting right next to him with her hand on his back. He was looking down at his feet, and then he looked up and we locked eyes. I froze. He didn’t even look startled. Just disappointed. He looked back down and I walked to my seat, relieved that he at least knew I was in here with him. He wasn’t ready yet. I knew that. I wished that I could go sit with them and talk to Jack, but I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.

A few minutes later, the lady came back smiling. She said that he knows what he’s doing, and that he will be okay. I asked her what she told him, and she just gave me a hug, saying that I’m a really great friend. I thanked her for being so kind and she offered to stay with me, but I told her I might just sit here alone for a while. She understood. Before she walked away, I asked again if she was sure that he would be okay.

“He knows that you exist.”

She left and I looked back into the room one last time. I watched Jack sitting against the wall replaying the woman’s words. He gripped his beer in one hand and fidgeted with the other. ‘Is this what you think you deserve?’ played over and over again in his mind. He knew this wasn’t what he deserved, but the thought stalled there. His phone screen lit up with a reminder to drink more water and he set his beer down, pushing it to the other side of the table as he got up to go refill his water bottle. ‘But what should I change? How can I get him to treat me better?’

6.

Outside, 14th Street had gone quiet again. The last remains of the evening’s snowstorm had melted into puddles along the sidewalk, forming queues in its cracks and patiently making their way back into the earth. Only a couple of pedestrians walked by; most of the shops were closed. The moon was well on her way to the other side of the horizon, hiding behind a cloud and catching a moment of rest as she would soon follow in the footsteps of a sunset to cast her light on another sleeping city.

I take off my coat and head down the sidewalk. It is much warmer now. My legs are tired. I look across the street and see that Aslin is closed for the night. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and relive our moments together there. I imagine them still in there now, failing to notice that all of the lights had turned off for the night, lost in the middle of a story that would never reach its end.

I keep walking down the road and I can finally make out the names of all the restaurants and bars and shops. I think about how strange it is that we can leave such different imprints on places that neighbor one another. It doesn’t seem fair that one bar gets all the good stuff, and another is left with the worst of it. I close my eyes and feel the breeze against my skin, imagining myself eventually rewriting some of these places’ memories of me. I make a promise to myself that I will return to Crush someday.

Part of me still wants to turn around and talk to the Jack that’s sitting against the wall with his face in his hands. I wish that I could pull him aside and tell him that his love isn’t going to go anywhere. I want to tell him that it’s true because it comes from him, and that it can never be wasted or erased. If only he knew that a paintbrush followed him around the city all winter long, leaving proof of love at the Silver Spring metro station, the Lyle hotel, 17th Street, and Floriana, where it still remains untouched.

When I get to Church Street, the world is awake. I notice that the tree by my apartment has already regrown her leaves, which are once again dancing against the glass on my bedroom window. I sit on the steps for a moment and lay my jacket across my lap. By my shoes, an earthworm is drinking the last few drops of water left in the cracks of the concrete. I wonder if something new might be playing at the movies, or if there’s a friend around I can meet up with. I lift my boots when I notice the worm looking for more water, and watch it inch to the other side of the steps, pausing under the rainwater dripping from my shoes. There are so many things I can do today, but I remind myself that I don’t have to decide on everything now. I am allowed to rest. I look at the leaves again for a few moments before going inside.

I open the door to my apartment and pause. I can hear Jake in the kitchen cooking breakfast. I’m nervous. I want to go say hello, but I’m worried I might be awkward. I just want to be friends again. I take off my boots and hang my coat up, glancing between the light coming from the kitchen and the door to my room. I slowly walk down the hallway, almost bracing to hear the click of the stove turn off while Jake runs back into his room. I imagine him seeing me and immediately leaving the kitchen.

I turn the corner and we each say good morning. He’s surprised that I’m up so early and I tell him that I just went on a long walk, and that it’s really nice out today. My words are a bit shaky. I sit down on the couch and put a blanket over my legs. It’s warm in our apartment, but not too warm. I want to tell him about my night, but now isn’t the time. Jake picks up the remote and turns on the TV, looking for an album to play on YouTube. We listen to the new Big Thief record. I close my eyes and begin to drift as Jake finishes cooking breakfast. Eggs are crackling on the stove and toast is lightly burning in the oven. I’m hungry, but I’m too tired to move. I listen to Adrianne Lenker sing about the bridge of two infinities (what is forming, what is fading) and then the rest of the words disappear into the background. I am fading, a dream is forming. I’m somewhere else when the song ends with a bass solo, but even when I’m sleeping it still sounds good.