Because Ilya seems to have taken full control of running the historical aspect connected to the penthouse’s history, I start to consider this as the green light to hit the road, so to speak
I have not stayed anywhere lately longer than one year and before last year it seemed it was every six months; first from Michigan to Oregon then back to Michigan and then New York which had been an impulse decision to move. And the impulse seems to be returning.
Before last year I never imagined I would ever return to New York
after so many years away and
the fermentation of those memories of those initial very bad ....first New York experiences years ago
like Jörn says, I must be used to flight or fight, because my reflex is to take flight at the first sign of danger
It is walking back to where I live when I see someone watching me from across the street and it is not the same kind of watching as how it felt the other time when that kid gave me the death threat. Instead, I somehow realize, he has been following me for a few days
because I kept noticing him in the crowd but then I shrugged it off
But it has been since the penthouse museum event that Ilya held because.... I start to realize I recognize him from
He said he was with The Times, I remember now
I don’t know why it never occurred to me till now that ....people might be curious about who I am seeing me there at the penthouse
I should have thought it through better when they started coming for the museum events that Ilya has been running. You know? I should have thought of this
as my name is on the mailbox and only now I realize how slow on the take I am. Obtuse once again.
In fact I realize a few things now in hindsight
He took a picture the day of the event when he visited, it was after the little tour and lecture that Ilya did.... is currently doing, actually. It was her idea because she’s raising money for a charity that is connected to one of his causes so it is a very good idea actually —so it’s an event she is hosting herself which is now being shown by appointment to the public
and I saw this guy .... he was taking notes and kept looking at me and then later, after —when everyone was looking at the historical documents he separated from the group and seemed interested in the large, framed photograph of Ethan Rhys-Jones behind me
and then I realized he was pointing his phone to take a picture of it but.... it seemed to me he was holding his phone at me —with me in his picture
and I realize too .... standing there as it slowly dawns on me.... in the photograph I am standing under of him— that he wore the same style glasses as I wear. As strange as it may seem, I never really noticed this before
and now too I realize as I stand there that I am in the shot he is taking .... with me ? ....standing under the photo
At the time I did have that moment of spider sense. But I didn’t trust it; I told myself to ignore the feeling but.... I got that weird uncomfortable feeling at the back of my neck.
But was I just paranoid?
Like the way he was looking at me and that I was in his shot or.... was it that I don’t generally like strangers taking my picture and so—maybe I really was just being paranoid
I mean....
One would not automatically guess my connection to Ethan Rhys-Jones —as it has been quite a long time since his face was in the papers. He is not exactly relevant now. Yet, all my life people have stared at me ....you know, over the years and they always say,
“you look so familiar....” and then stare too long to the point of discomfort .... as if.... because.... they would start to suspect I must be someone —or related to someone they should know
When I grew up my mother did everything she could to camouflage me or to play down my awkwardly hard to blend looks and features. Sometimes I think that was partly behind why we moved to the Netherlands; as a way to hide things about us; this —because as I grew up my unusual, odd, physical features became more obvious. And people had started to ask my mother about my different bone structure and eyes. Both not like either parent. My eyes are a little like my mother’s were but not as much actually and a lot more like.... Ethan Rhys-Jones. Although usually most tend to think I’m Irish which no one in my family were even close to being
—I think because I’m red-headed, mostly and no one else is that either and I remember wondering too about the other ....different and more telling—and very obvious features that —I always got uncomfortable comments about at school. I was different and I stood out uncomfortably
as a kid as I still didn’t know who I was
and one day it was I was looking in the mirror and I said to my mother, “don’t you think I look kind of Cherokee?”
Of course she was furious and appalled and angrily reminded me of our Russian ancestry. She started tweezing my eye brows when I was thirteen removing the distinctive arch that was a feature hard not to notice —and cut my hair in a way that also distracted the shape of my face.
I don’t touch the shape of my brows anymore, although I still hide my face from years of habit but if anyone does look close enough it is pretty obvious how much I do resemble that man —who had extremely distinctive features. I noticed the resemblance strongly in my daughter too even when she was first born because she looked exactly like him as a baby! Exactly! and as she gets older ....more and more .... last I noticed from a picture her father sent to me
So noticing this now as I am being followed by the guy from the Times.... I get a bad feeling about this
and feeling I must be putting myself ....too much out there
It’s something I think I must avoid. I need my anonymity
I know about how someone can take something like that and run—decide to make a buck off an old scandal and then the next thing that would happen would be they would make me some kind of tabloid flash-in-the-pan story which ....
would be worse than a living nightmare to me. I detest pop media and I detest being stared at
So it must be time to retreat
which I decide as I walk, ducking into the nearest store in hopes of losing the guy
I wait from inside the store looking out across the street
So I stand inside waiting but I see him on his phone and watching the store where I am
It’s a coffee place and the guy behind the counter wants me to buy something —so I ask for coffee
“What kind?” he points to a menu over his head behind him
I shrug,
“Whatever is your favorite.”
“Rocky and Bullwinkle,” he says
“Great,” I hand him my card as it’s not a self serve transaction and wait as I watch the window
I get a text from Jörn:
<Where are you?>
I reply:
<Snookies>
The guy hands me back my card
I see the guy across the street start to cross over and now I begin to panic
Another text:
<?>
Instead I press voice call and he answers
“Where are you?” he asks
but the guy comes in!
I move to the back of the place and hide behind the refrigerated beverages and whisper into the phone
“Snookies!”
“Why are you whispering? Who’s Snookie?”
“No.... it’s the shop down the street.... you know, next to the bodega....”
“What bodega?” he asks
“Jörn! You know the place— you got a cinnamon bun that time.”
“Oh, that helps—what’s wrong, should I come get you?”
“Someone is following me!”
“Ok, don’t move I’ll be there in five minutes—don’t move,” he says.
I discover there is a hidden back part to the place where a few tables are and most of the tables are occupied but I find one in the back corner where I can see out the store front
It is actually about five minutes when I notice the door swing open and see Jörn breathless and sweaty, wearing his jog clothes
I wave at him and he looks around trying to figure out what guy I’m talking about
He comes right over,
“who’s the guy? Which one is it? I can get the van here in five minutes—“
“No no no, don’t Jörn—he’s from museum night!”
He shakes his head at me and draws his brows,
“What are you talking about?”
“The event at the penthouse Ilya did last Tuesday—he’s been following me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” and he moves as if he’s ready to bash the guy’s head in
“He’s with the New York Times!” I say and grab his arms to pull him from doing anything
This stops Jörn’s intent but he still looks like he wants to bash the person’s head
“What is going on, Duva? Why were you whispering into the phone— do you think he’s dangerous?”
“I think he believes he has figured out who I am!”
Jörn suddenly goes completely limp and pulls out a chair to sit down. I realize now how much he’s sweating as it is such a hot day
The coffee guy comes over with the coffee drink. Rocky and Bullwinkle turns out to be an iced mocha with crumpled chunks of truffles,
“here, drink this,” I tell him
“What is it?” he asks me
“Rocky and Bullwinkle.”
He looks at it and then at me,
“Ok— so I just sprinted three blocks because of some journalist from museum night....?”
I decide then to taste the coffee, then look back at him,
“Wow! You know—this is really good!”
There is a moment where he seems not sure if he wants to yell at me or laugh and then .... reaches for Rocky and Bullwinkle
He drinks half of it in a matter of seconds.... sadly.... but I notice at least he seems less annoyed and not as sweaty
“Lets go— why don’t you finish Rocky Stallone—“
“It’s Rocky and Bullwinkle—“
He takes it from me and drinks almost all of it,
“finish it and let’s go—“
“Is he still here?”
He stands up,
“what does he look like?”
“He looks like a hipster,” I tell him, whispering,“green tie and pinstripes.”
So I wait and watch as Jörn walks through. I see him open the door to the refrigerated beverages and grab a water and go up to pay but as he does this I see the guy— who looks right at him. Jörn says something to him and I see the guy look back at him awkwardly. And then go white as a sheet. After Jörn gets his change the hipster journalist leaves suddenly and Jörn comes back over to me,
“you ready?” he asks me
“So.... what did you say?”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s not going to follow you anymore.”
“What did you say?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
It is about a block later when I ask again and he says,
“I told him that if I ever find out he’s writing a story about you I’d have him arrested for illegally buying weed.”
“How did you know he bought weed?”
But he just laughs at me as his answer
No comments:
Post a Comment