Goodbye to New York, Part 3

On the day of my graduation from eighth grade I went to a party at the Canfield house, my second symbol of New York. At the time it was to me Nick’s penthouse, but it has become my haunt, saturated with awkward memories.

We’re listening to Nix Mix again, in the backroom of the Canfield house, where we have spent many indecisive nights. I put on Less Than Jake and everyone screams in revolt. This is the group I have known since fifth grade but didn't really befriend until ninth. We don't really know why we are friends except because we commuted to that urban Cathedral close with peacocks and choirs for a few years. We are growing apart but we cling to that common experience for stability, for the reminder that we are really all that we have to hold on to. I hide myself in the covers of Suzie's bed because we're watching some stupid action movie in the dark, and Madeleine comes over and gets in bed with me. We pull the blankets up to our chins to fight the air conditioning and whisper about loving and hating this place-- the same old people, the same old motions and movements, the same old Domino's and Coke, the same old shushing and laughing. The light is flipped on and Nick pounces on us and doesn't move, so we are three in a bed, pulling at flower sheets and fluffy pillows, and Max comes in with his yamhaca and feels unloved. Lights out again and the movie is resumed with Max in a chair and the rest on the couch, except for the three of us still performing a balancing act on the bed. We talk for hours when the movie ends, sharing stories about the sex we’re not having and whispering our fears. Someone shouts “hey remember that time on this very couch…” and the victim of the story blushes at the revelation of a memory she had hoped had been forgotten. In the Canfield house I have learned about the nature of secrets. I have learned that the city itself has too many secrets that they aren’t even secrets because no one’s keeping them, because no one knows they’re there. I have learned that you can’t have a secret if you don’t know you’re keeping it. So another night winds down at the Canfield house and everyone grabs trash on the way out, waving goodbye when it never really is.