i remember please don't ever leave

i walked to the thai restaurant on 9th avenue after work, yes, the one i always go to. it's not even that amazing, but i have so few attributes that would be considered "habitual" anymore, so i take what i can.

a waitress glanced at me as i walked in, waiting for some sort of explanation. "just one," i said.

"just one?"

ah yes, the great 21st century peril of dining alone.

i nodded. she looked around, smiling, hoping to spot a small, two-person date table along the wall, but a number of couples had beat us both to the punch. she looked down at the empty four-person table a foot away.

"is this okay?"

i nodded and smiled and sat down, as she quickly cleared away three sets of silverware and dashed off, leaving me with a menu. i think any number of months ago, i might have hoped that i just looked early. i might have even taken out my cellphone and read old text messages that had nothing to do with my imaginary scenario. as groups of four came in, i might feel a little embarrassed.

but if new york has taught me anything at its most trying times, it's that you can function alone. so i ate in silence, surrounded by empty chairs and a waitstaff that didn't know what to do with me and all of this dining real estate.

after dinner, i decided to walk for a while, and ended up trekking up 9th and onto broadway as it cut into the upper west side, eventually logging over fifty blocks before deciding to hop on the 1. the whole time, i had a strange sense that i would see someone i knew. i kept thinking david. i sometimes think that's wishful thinking. i guess old ghosts die hard.

i shook it off by the time i was heading down the steps into the 96th street subway station. a 2 train had just let out, and between the suffocating heat and crowds of commuters scattering before the 2 made its way to harlem, i was feeling a little woozy. i sat down on the bench and looked around, feeling the pressure die down as the masses filed up the stairs.

i had a premonition that i would see someone else tonight as well. i forgot about david well into the upper west side, but once i got into the 90s, i thought about someone else i would find myself speechless in front of. i can't say who. i know that may render all of this irrelevant and anticlimactic, but i can't tell you who.

and there he was, holding a briefcase and walking up the platform towards the stairs, towards me sitting on the bench sweating and suddenly not breathing. so i did the only thing i knew how to do with him: i looked the other way. i didn't even have to think about it. fight or flight? i just hid behind some branches in the tree.

it seemed to take forever for him to pass behind me, and i'll never know if he saw me. but he kept walking, and i watched the back of him, and i expected him to turn around, and truth be told, i almost wanted him to. i owed him an apology. i owed him an explanation. something in between.

but he kept walking and disappeared up those stairs, and i imagined that maybe he did in fact see me. maybe he even stopped, or slowed down briefly, but ultimately kept moving. realized it was me--or who he thought was me--and decided there was nothing to say. i think there are some people who are meant to disappear, and there are some people who are not. the ones who disappear have nothing truly left to offer, and the ones who don't haven't said everything that needs to be heard. even if they don't say a word.

but he said everything i needed to hear tonight.

sometimes, you're better off alone.