Being in transit stirs whatever has been sitting for too long. Something about
the forward whooshing motion.
There's this guy on the train and he's got on these shoes that
make me feel like I know him. Perhaps from a party I went to on a roof one time.
Maybe we went to camp together in a past life. Perhaps because I feel quite
unusual today and it is entirely possible that something in my mechanism has
gone askew. Anyway, he's a cross between Marty McFly and Ferris Bueller, a deadly
fucking combination. He looks like he has a good song in his head. Our eyes
meet.
EXT. 14TH STREET
I emerge into the light of day. I'm looking for orange juice but only if it's
fresh squeezed. To match my orange shoes with sky blue laces which did not come
with the orange shoes but that I added later. I pass by windows--they're like
dioramas inside, all lined up next to each other like in a science fair. The
pale philosophers in the bookstore look through the window with this strange
type of longing and it makes me feel weird.
And look-- there's the guy with the shoes. I'll just walk in the same direction
that he's walking and pretend I'm making a call so I can see if I know him or
not. He looks smart. I'm still pretending to talk on the phone and I feel really
stupid.
"That's crazy," I say audibly as I walk behind him. "I can't
believe it," This is so stupid. Whatever, it's my day off and my only plan
was the orange juice.
"OK, I'll talk to you later, yeah, bye."
We conveniently fall into step.
"I like your shoes," I tell him.
"I like yours too. Orange is good."
Orange is good.
"What does that mean?" Is he cute? I can't tell if I think he's cute.
"It's just a good color."
Oh. I throw back my scarf because it's really long.
"Are you the girl I saw reading that aquarium manual on the train?"
he asks.
"Yeah, that was me."
"'Cause I build aquariums. I have a store on 12th Street. I mean, it's
my apartment but it's also my store. I have 23 different species of algae growing
in my apartment."
INT. AQUARIUM STORE/APARTMENT
"There's a lot of oxygen in here because of all the algae,"
I conclude.
"Did you study science?" he wonders.
"Kind of."
"How do you kind of study science?"
"Just plants. Plants and oxygen."
"Can I see your hands," I ask.
"No. Why?"
"Just let me see them."
Perhaps it's my mechanism, which is still askew, but as I examine his hands,
I have that sinking feeling like I'm standing on a really muddy riverbank.
"Interesting," I confirm. "So, I guess I'll buy a fish."
INT. MY BATHROOM
I have decided to anoint myself in Dragon Lotion before I enter the night.
It has a secret ingredient and I make it from scratch in my bathroom. "Anoint"
is a little much, but when I put it on I feel ancient which justifies the use
of the word. Dragon Lotion makes me feel ancient and young at the same time.
It's like that whole love is old love is new thing.
INT. STAIRCASE/AQUARIUM
I'm walking up an endless staircase. It's really endless and steep but I don't
really mind. It was very good that I did that whole phone charade it turns out,
because if I hadn't I wouldn't be walking up the endless stairs. I don't much
when I'm enamored.
There's so much oxygen in his apartment; I can really breathe in there. Like
I'm quenched. It's all that algae.
"Hey," he says, and I get the feeling that he's standing on a really
muddy riverbank, sinking.
"Hey," I answer, too cool for anyone's good.
"You can... come in."
The door closes out the city and our mouths close around each other. It feels
like plugging into a network where the current flows in an infinite circuit.
Or falling off a mountain and tumbling through white fog or moving on a really
fast train in one direction or all of the above all at once. Scary shit.
11:11 PM
"Are my hands cold," I worry.
"God no," he explains.
It's ridiculously mysterious. This affair will undoubtedly not be conducive
to my sanity. But that's ok.
Sari Heifetz is a screenwriter
and recent graduate of the American Film Institute. This is her first story
for Lime Tea.
