Billy Pilgrim does Manhattan

The first thing that I noticed about Manhattan was that there was no empty space.

Each building smashed into the next like legos on the green baseplate. Teslas lined the street. Crowds of people. Chatter buzzing, then fading, then buzzing again. Hordes of pigeons billowed onto cement steps, their plumage fluttering like a draft blowing a stack of loose paper around an office.

New York was intended to be a vacation from my hamster wheel in Virginia, and yet I was on my third panic attack since our arrival two days ago.

I sucked the sterile air into my nostrils. Before covid, Ubers smelled of fruity gas station air fresheners and a subtle twinge of Black & Milds. Now Ubers smell like little hospitals. Leather and Lysol.

I craned my neck in search of blank space. However, in New York, there is no “sky” in the sky. Just more buildings. Buildings tall enough to cast a constant shadow over the island no matter the time of day. I needed to see the sky. A gap in space. Nothing.

I closed my eyes. The white opaque window shape buzzed behind my eyelids. I thought of him. My skin pricked and my ears got hot. I thought of my mother. Sitting crosslegged on her motted beige leather sofa, phone in hand. My phone dinging, reading the message “You’re an ungrateful little bitch.” A lump formed and tightened in my throat. My eyes stung, next—moisture from the oncoming tears provided brief relief. I opened my eyes and looked at the street. A pink neon sign flashed “halal”. A horn in the distance. I fit in so well. My mind mirrored this metropolitan hellscape. My thoughts stacked into the next like legos on the green baseplate.

“Mom, can I play Two-Dots on your phone?” I blinked and shifted back to the car’s cabin. MJ was looking up at me with my face. Littler. Eyebrows raised. Eyes pleading.

“Sure”, I said as I palmed my phone from my lap and handed it to him. He scrolled and tapped, and whimsical orchestra music began playing. He pushed his back to me, and I wrapped my arm around him. I kissed the bundle of dreadlocks on the back of his head and closed my eyes. Blackness. Nothing.