October 1988. Bronx, New York
the cab from the airport took me to student housing for albert einstein college of
medicine in the bronx. deborah’s friend chris lived there; she said she was never
in her room and i was welcome to stay. she left the key on top of the fire
extinguisher in the hall.
i set my things down inside and stood at the big window staring out at the city for
a long time. i’d been so focused on leaving that it just started to hit me: “what the
fuck have i done?”
then an empty homesick aching
i got a drink of water and sat on the bed. there were no chairs. it felt uninhabited.
the floor was dusty.
there were a few books in the corner, i picked one up – “house of god” – and
started reading it. when i put it back down it was dark and i was hungry.
i looked in the refridgerator, knowing that if i found any food it wouldn’t be right
to eat it. there was nothing there.
i put on my jacket, got my wallet and the key, and went out.
everything was so unfamiliar. i walked several blocks – carefully keeping track of
my route – before finding a corner market that was open.
i bought some saltines, peanut butter, and a beer, and walked quickly back
i stayed there for two weeks until i found a sublet
i never saw chris