Page 140 of Playworld

It was a cold day, with low, oyster-colored clouds scudding east. The wind billowed the nets at the Central Park tennis courts. The joggers around the reservoir’s track shuffled silently. I heard only the nearer noise of my blood beating and the ticking of my spokes, which made me feel self-contained and strangely lonely. When I arrived at Nightingale, I sat across from the school, on the same town house’s stoop where we’d shotTake Two,and watched the dismissal, keeping an eye out for Amanda. When she spotted me, she waved and crossed the street. She wore a black sweater over a black Izod whose buttons she’d fastened all the way to the top.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I came to see you.”

“I babysit today.” She looked at her watch. “But it’s early. We could walk across the park.”

“All right.”

I did not walk with her. Maybe it was rude, but I stayed on my bike once we crossed Fifth, gliding very slowly alongside her, balancing upright on my pedals, occasionally, so as to not tip over, building a bit of speed and braking until she caught up, or circling her, when necessary, in wide parabolic loops to glide again beside her, to match her walking pace. At first, she delighted in this game, but soon she realized I had something to say, that I was waiting for the right time.

We entered the park at the Engineers’ Gate on Ninetieth. There was, I noticed for the first time, a memorial at the base of the stairs leading up to the reservoir’s cinder track, a man’s bust, and I made a mental note, the next time I passed it, to study its plaque. You could never exhaust the totality of this city any more than you could the knowledge of another person, or yourself.

“I can’t be friends with you anymore,” I said.

Amanda crossed her arms and slowed.

“It’s too painful for me,” I said.

She uncrossed her arms and wiped her eyes.

I glided alongside her and then circled her once more.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

I rode and did not look back. I bumped the curb to get off the loop. I crossed to the Great Lawn. Its ball fields were eroding, their grasses browning. Their dust blew into my eyes and stung. I spied Belvedere Castle, high on its promontory. Below it, the Delacorte came into view. In front of the theater, the statue of Romeo and Juliet, the statue of Prospero and Miranda.As you from crimes would pardoned be,I thought,Let your indulgence set me free.The sky pressed down. It muffled everything, even the wind drying my cheeks. I exited the park, bearing south. I rode past the Museum of Natural History, home to the blue whale. To meteors and krakens. To galaxies and dinosaurs. Oh, but there is something fantastical about this island. There must have been a spell cast upon it from before when this land was Arcadia, was Manahatta, and it is this:you can take two people, place them within shouting distance of each other, set them on their way, and in their lifetimes, they might never cross paths again. Even if it became their most fervent wish, having been separated, they could no more find the other among its infinite paths or spy the other reflected in its countless windows than an invisible man could find an invisible woman in an invisible city. I was nearing home, but my brother wasn’t there. I stood on my pedals to go faster. My spokes sang their propellered whirr. I felt light, as if my bones had filled with air. I passed the Dakota, ripping alongside its black iron rail, allowing myself to glide before I gently banked. I saw the Wise Man and Two Dragons, the Wise Man and Two Dragons. And then I turned toward the river and headed west.