Choices and Reflections

New York is a fairly incredible city. Whatever it is you want, you can find it. I wrote a review of a burlesque show a few weeks back. That was a Thursday night. A Thursday. In my home town you'd be lucky to find that on a Friday or Saturday. Things stay open late here. Some things never close. Bars are required to make last call at 4:00am, HOWEVER, there are licensed 'after hours' bars that open at Midnight and stay open until 11:00am, from which you can continue to drink at a regular bar.  If you so desire.

I'm almost 30. I do not have that desire. But it's nice to know that I have that choice.

Choices.

We make them every day.

Yesterday I was walking in the West Village.  I had heard about a new Nerdy shop, and while I can do my nerdy shopping in the nerdiest way possible (here on the Internet), I decided to break character and leave the house.

Due to its street layout the West Village is one of the more interesting neighborhoods in Manhattan. When the rest of the city was being organized into the grid system, the West Village had an outbreak of Cholera. The entire neighborhood was quarantined. So it never got its streets straightened. They come and go at awkward angles. They intersect strangely. Sometimes three roads converge onto one another and become one road. It doesn't make much sense, but it is incredibly charming. It has a bit of magic in it.

Anyways, I was making my way from the Christopher Street 1 train stop. I looked up the direction online, wrote them down, then promptly left them at home. I had a general idea of where I was going, and since I still haven't upgraded to an "intelligent phone" I relied on my own intuition. This is not abnormal for me. I have a 'general idea' of where I'm going all the time, and most of the time I get to where I'm trying to go.  Not this time.

I took a wrong turn somewhere along the way. The West Village may be unique to the rest of NYC, but the side streets almost all look the same. Beautiful store fronts here, a sex shop there, tons of rainbow flags, and beautiful architecture. While passing the brownstones I notice an old woman sitting outside of her shop, as I get closer she turns and looks me in the eye,

 'Come in.' she says in a voice that sounds like birdsong and sandpaper, 'we have what you are looking for.'

'I don't think so, thanks anyway.' I reply.

'No need to think, I know, you will see.'

The window was dark, and old. Very old. The lettering was cracked and faded. So much so that I could not read it. A ghost of what it once was. It also had silvered edges that were tarnished and stained. Beyond I could see taxidermy and copper tubing. What could this place be? Some sort of Steampunk retro shop of amazing? Perhaps it is worth a look.

Upon entering I'm greeted by the smell of old dust. Like my grandfathers basement. Everything is well placed, but in desperate need of some elbow grease. Out of the corner of my eye I see a stuffed crow. It stares at me with its lifelike eyes. I feel the odd sensation of being watched.

'Come with me, you must see.'

I jump.

'Sorry I startled you, come.'

The new voice belongs to a brittle old man. He could be in his 80s or possibly 90s. Age is hard to determine when everything is lit by oil lanterns. You would think those would be illegal now.

The dark wood floors creak as I walk across them. The counter was of a beautiful wood.

'Is that Chestnut?!' I asked, astonished.

'Yes,' the old man slurs with his thick accent, 'strong trees, grow very tall.'

Where was that accent from? Romania? I'm bad with Eastern European dialects, I can never place them.

'Well, they did one hundred years ago. . .' I begin.

'Yes, large trees, come. Look.'

The room is hazy. The light beams are visible through the air, but they do seem to be slanted in the wrong direction for this time of day. It's probably nothing. I just got turned around outside is all.

He leads me to the back of the shop and points toward a large oval standing mirror. It has clawed feet that are intricately carved.  They could be crow talons? The wood is dark, almost black, but so old that the stain has settled deep into the heart of the grain. Something is very different about this mirror. It is crystal clear. There is not a stain or a speck of dust. While everything else in this shop is tarnished, the mirror is pristine. The old man slips from my view and I gaze upon my reflection.

I see myself. I definitely need to start working out again. I'm also going to miss my hair when it leaves me completely, but I'm okay with that. My head cocks to the side.

Wait. I didn't move.

I look myself in the eye.

I see a woman with short dark hair and sun kissed skin laying on a bathroom floor sobbing. My heart breaks. I want to reach out to her.

I see an infant laying still at the bottom of a staircase. A little girl with curly brown pigtails tentatively looks on from the top of the stairs.

I see a little boy beside the road, a pickup speeding away in the distance.

I see a car wreck. It looks bad. Emergency service is making their way through the heavy rain.  It's too late I think.  No one is moving in that big blue conversion van.

I see a teenager. His wrists are covered with heavy scars. The rifle is still smoking while it lays awkwardly between his legs. It's messy. There is a note on the bed. It only says, 'Sorry, I couldn't take it anymore.'

I see a depressed young man. He's heading off to a job that he hates as all the friends he grew up with leave town to go to College. He's happy for them, but doesn't see a future for himself, destined to be forgotten.

I see a college kid. Defiantly throwing papers in the face of an administrator as he walks from an ancient college building. 'Fuck you and fuck this school.' he yells. He's obviously trying to keep it together, but as he walks to his car the tears begin to stream down his face. What is he going to do, he thinks, I'm ashamed of what I've done, and I'll never be able to look anyone in the face ever again. He opens the door to his blue muscle car, looks around for one last time. Then drives away never to be seen again.

I see an overweight young man. He smiles at his wife and kids. She really wanted them. He drives to his job, dreaming of better things. He wishes he would have given his dreams a chance, but they're far gone now. He has responsibilities. Things are okay, but he is full of regret.

I see a strung out bartender. He's hurting. He's unhealthy skinny. A man walks up to the bar. He says a few words, the bartender nods excitedly. They meet out in the alley. The bartender pulls out a wad of cash that he stole from the register. The other man pulls out a pistol and takes the money. The bartender suddenly lunges for the man. A shot rings out. The man runs away as the bartender bleeds alone by the garbage.

I see a man who's made up his mind. He's leaving town. He can't take it anymore. It's going to break the heart of the girl who loves him, but he's too much of a coward to tell her that he's leaving. While she's at work he packs up a few things, leaves her some rent money and a letter. She can keep the stuff. He's very sorry. There are tears drying on the note as he leaves the apartment. He takes a cab to JFK and buys the next ticket South.

There is a change in the mirror.

I see a tall, proud man. His eyes look like mine. He grew up always helping his parents in their garden. At the time he didn't like it, but as he got older he gained an appreciation for working with ones hands and the goodness of growing things. He thinks there are probably better ways of doing things than having a sprinkler system installed in a yard, especially when you live next to a cold water creek.

He loves the mountains. He went to UNC. Lived it up. Met a few nice girls, it didn't quite work out, but it was fun while it lasted. He got a degree in Biology, with a preference to Botany. He decides, since a war is being fought, that he will serve his country.

He becomes an Officer in the Army. He is in the Corp of Engineers. The summer of hydroponics work he did at Disney World comes in handy while he teaches various agricultural techniques to Afghanis.  His pet project is a greenhouse in the rough terrain. He gains the support of the local village. It is peaceful and constructive. His superiors commend him for his work. One day a stranger came to visit the greenhouse.

The next day it exploded as he approached for his morning seminar. The children of the village were going to learn that day. Were. The attack is brutal. Being shot is different than he expected. He drags himself to the smoking wreckage that was the greenhouse.  He hears sobbing. He pulls two small bodies with him as he leaves. Hiding them behind an outcropping of rocks, he goes back. Adrenaline and training are at work now. He finds one more live child. Takes him to the others. Sees one of his brothers go down. He rushes to his aid, grabs the fallen side arm and drops the assailant.

This is the first time he has ever taken a life.

 He vomits. Picks up his brother, and hauls him to the others. They are spotted by a jeep and he sees friendly boots as he passes out. Probably from blood loss.

Back home he receives many awards and commendations. He is grateful for the lives that he saved, but full of sorrows for those he could not. When he closes his eyes all he can see is an exploding greenhouse and a man being shot in the throat. He decides his service is up. He waits his time, does as he's told, and is honorably decommissioned. His side still aches from a bullet that should have killed him. He still never sleeps through the night.

Using money he saved and various military grants he goes to grad school. He travels and sees gardens and historic homes around the world. Bringing green life into the world helps him sleep. While meticulously taking notes at the National Botanical Gardens he sees a beautiful woman. Her hair is long and dark. Black like a raven's feather. Her eyes are the brightest blue he's ever seen. She notices him checking her out, and he turns away embarrassed.

She calms him in the night when he wakes up screaming. The nightmares start to go away. They get married. He's a Doctor of Botany and works for an agricultural think tank in Northern Virginia. He and his wife go hiking a lot. He has two boys; Honor and Nobel. When he closes his eyes he rarely sees the man he killed, but the sons which he loves. His neighbors complain when he tills his entire yard. Just wait he says. He has a YouTube channel about gardening and botany. His wife teases him for being internet famous.

The man looks at me with my eyes. I look at him.

'Just touch the mirror, and that will be you.' whispers the sandpaper song of the elderly woman.

'See his happiness, it could be yours.' speaks the old man softly.

'But if I become him, everything that I did differently will not be so. My connections. My happiness.'

'Yes, but look at all he's accomplished.'

I nod, but it isn't even a question. 'He has many things, but not the people who love me.'

'People love him.'

'Not my Love. Even if everything else was wrong. Even if I made every wrong choice. As long as I ended up with her in my life, all the mistakes would have been worth it.  I did not become those shadows I saw when I first looked in the mirror. Those were dark reflections of things that very much could have been. Sad endings. But I'm alive here and now, and I won't have it any other way.'

'You have much wisdom.' nods the old man.

'Only a little, and I only gained that through pain and failure. But it was my pain and my failure.'

The old couple seem smaller.  Maybe smaller isn't the right word. I get the feeling that there is less of them. I turn to leave. Wasn't that crow's head looking the other way? The floor feels stiffer, the light all but gone.  How long have I been here?

'Has anyone ever touched the mirror?'

The old lady's eyes twinkle, whether in amusement or malice I could not say.

'A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.'

I left the curious shop and turned right. After about a block I remembered that I was going to check out another store, but it was getting late and I wanted to get home. 

Strange thing is, I went back to where that shop was today, but couldn't find it. Just a gay bar with a rather friendly looking bouncer. I could have sworn it was this block. Stupid not having a smart phone. I could have looked it up. Guess I'll never see it or that mirror again.   

The City has the habit of swallowing up places that you just happen to find.