John Kearns

Worlds excerpt: Approaching Madison Avenue

 

 

Englishman Gavin, Irish-American Paul, and their barmaid friend. Laura, are approaching Madison Avenue late on April 9, 1998. 

 

It was strange and pleasant to see the FDR so empty.  They rolled up the highway with no fear of any traffic jams and little fear of getting lost.  And, suburban Laura, now on familiar driving terrain, seemed relaxed behind the wheel.  Gavin hadn’t spoken in a while.  Likely, he had fallen asleep again.

 

A few lights sparkled and bobbed on the waves of the East River, but mostly it was dark and flat — and broad, which was novel to Paul’s urban eyes.  As they passed 23rd Street, the old world of downtown faded away in the rearview mirror and the buildings before them grew taller, grabbing at the sky for more and more square feet. 

 

say something say something now you have an opportunity talk about the skyline  about the potholes about baudelaire the rain stopping the highway driving about veronicas veil the relics of the true cross c’mon c’mon the revolution will not be televised

 

The Empire State Building looked grey and stately in its sleep as the FDR rose and curved.  Then it disappeared behind some projects.  In an eye-blink, it reappeared, looking solitary, as if all the other buildings had stood aside for it, parting a giant brick-and-mortar curtain for the star to accept its adoration.

 

workers finished it in a year and a month guys like great granddad sitting up there on the beams having their lunch smoking and laughing and staring at death at posterity in defiance such magnificent aplomb did their forbears lunch so casually upon the stones they rowed and rolled to newgrange or the clifftop of dun aengus the empire state the true great granddaddy of them all rivets and girders mortar and bricks with half the straw thrown up so fast for making bricks so al smith could cut the ribbon but what was the hurry that great rushing that tremendous energy of the city people love that but always suspected it comes from the people working their spirits to a drone all that perpetual motion all that twinkling and blinking and glittering fueled by the souls people give in exchange

 

For?

 

As the BMW sped around the bend of Kips Bay, the highway turned toward the city.  The Water Club approached on Paul’s side and across the river in a giant red script, there curled and sloped the words, “Pepsi Cola.”

 

Symbol of a generation?  We have not turned out to be the Peppers they wanted us to be.  Sell-out generation.

 

Ahead, and over the East River, the lights of the 59th Street Bridge were strung like giant luminescent pearls.

 

say something be a poet offer her a string of marvels that can stretch across a river and light up its waves

 

Seeing a green, white-lettered sign for 34th Street and The Queens Midtown Tunnel, Paul sat up.

 

—  Better get over to the right lane.  You have to get off soon. 

 

ain’t poetic exactly but need to warn her in advance or end up in the Bronx

 

She maneuvered into the right lane.  Presently the signs for the 42nd Street exit appeared. 

 

A couple of yachts nodded off to sleep at the dock.

 

do they dive from those boats for pearls of light do they sail up to hunts point for some cuchifritos or some of that crack can you imagine

 

—  There’s the exit for 42nd Street. 

 

She took the ramp, which immediately began lifting them above the highway.  The FDR seemed to dive down and away from them.  The ramp was wide and flat with cracked cement and there were no roadsigns to confirm that they were going the right way.    

 

—  Is this right?  We’re going up!

 

— I think so.  The sign said 42nd Street ...

 

At the top of the ramp, the road turned sharply left, changing the car’s heading so that it seemed precipitated right at midtown Manhattan’s wall of skyscrapers.  They looked so quiet and peaceful at this hour, from this distance, though workaday and workanight frenzy was their hallmark. 

 

remember when the city was an incomprehensible maze of unknown streets and uncountable hurried masses now the shades of former days surround me proofreading ads crisscrossing midtown for lunches with the saint philomena guidance counselor getting an order of irresponsible french fries to go with my packed meatloaf sandwich i wanted to buy my lunch damn it at least let me buy some fries to go with the brown bag scrimping bread and cold meat eaten under the circle of columns in the park across from tommy makem’s cheap bitch didn’t know how to enjoy life

 

The majesty and power of it all still made Paul’s heart beat a little faster.  Those breathtaking towers of business and storefronts full of treasures.  It excited him despite himself.  In those old midtown days he would deliberately walk across town on 57th Street just to breathe it in and marvel at the things for sale: Tiffany jewelry and Steinway pianos, sculptures from ancient Greece right there in the windows, clothes from renowned designers and famous stores — he remembered for the first time in his life looking at shirts and ties and jackets in the window and wanting to buy them for himself.

 

sitting by fountains near where kathy had that costly company christmas party glitzy they called it buzzwords joking about how the pigeons took off from their skyscraper ledges all at once such entertainment now i can afford expensive lunches for my little friend here take her someplace in tribeca to nobu or montrachet if i can get this mistress of the night out in the daytime pigeons conquering the air conquering gravity conquering the heights of those piles of wealth that out of town visitors loved to see rockefeller and trump and carnegie written on them was so enamored with that glorious skyline couldn’t take my eyes off it still can’t

 

— I can’t imagine myself ever working in an office …

 

— Really?  Why not?

 

— I don’t know.  Doin’ the whole nine-to-five thing … sitting in some stuffy cubicle all day …

 

— Ah, you never know.  It’s not so bad.  You could probably do it.  Some offices are not as stuffy as you think. 

 

— Still, it’s hard to imagine — isn’t it?  Me being all corporate?  Good morning, Mr. Paul.  Morning!

 

— It is, Paul chuckled.  Yeah, that is hard to imagine! 

 

Despite the time, the Chrysler Building still looked ultra bright, shining floodlights on itself, lights upon arrows of light on narrowing arches pyramiding up and up.

 

Should be called the Avis building.  It tries harder. 

 

Yellow cabs, vans, trucks, buses, and cars still flowed east and west along on 42nd Street.  The traffic was far lighter than it would be at most hours of the day and night but it was steady enough. 

 

Where the underworld can meet the elite,

Forty-Second Street.

 

— But nowadays offices are not all that conservative.  Most people don’t wear suits.  Even in the financial places.  And some offices are really casual — especially these Internet startups. 

 

— Yeah, I miss that a little.

 

— What?

 

— Guys in suits.

 

Laura’s beaten BMW glided past the familiar wideness of Second Avenue. 

 

kathy afterwork at murphys jamesons or at clancys farther up fond memory brings the light but dim as the early morning glow wavelengths of the same intensity yet one was waning while the other just beginning kissing her was so easy the first time when she almost stumbled into the bleecker street gutter outside the back fence holding kathy’s hand walking to the subway had a big awkward hard on going through the turnstile at west 4th

 

But why dwell on the past?  Why spend time thinking about an outmoded ex-girlfriend who’s no longer around?  When you can have the new prestigious deluxe, high-quality, model sitting next to you today!  Act now.  Reach out and touch the ultimate driver.  Limited time only.  A hand on the driver’s seat will put you in the revolution.  Make you Hertz.  Offer good while supplies last.  Order today.  Better just do it.  Gutsy is job one.  Between love and madness, have it your way. When it absolutely, positively has to be done overnight.  Have a poke and a smile.  Look, Ma, no timidity! The push that refreshes.  When I.M. Horny talks, people listen. 

 

C’mon!  Don’t let it die down.  She started it up.  Now keep it going.  You know it doesn’t really matter that much what you say.  Daily News building’s arching entryway.  It’s later than you think.  You never told Carmen how you felt and she vanished from our lives.  Why is it always the men who have to be the pursuers?  Women have no idea how hard it is.  Say something.  Keep it moving forward. 

 

At Third Avenue, a red light stopped them. Above them shone the steel and glass of the Grand Hyatt Hotel and for a half a block there ran a transparent awning to protect wealthy heads waiting for hailed cabs.  Opposite was a castle flying a flag emblazoned with, “Cipriani” and a faceless bartender in mid-cocktail shake.  Across 42nd Street arched the Park Avenue Viaduct.  The MetLife Building puffed out its chest and lowered its eyes toward the Roman-numeraled clock of the Grand Central Terminal.  Hercules sat on one side of the clock, looking up and asking Mercury, “Where else do you want to go today?” while Minerva, on the other side, checked the train schedule.  

 

— What’s going on here?  Laura complained.

 

She jerked herself toward the steering wheel and squinted with knit brows through the drop-specked windshield.

 

— The light is green but nobody’s moving. 

 

Horns began to honk. 

 

— It’s all cabs.  Must be dropping people off.  See if you can get over to the left lane.  Hold on.  Not yet … not yet. 

 

Laura let the car roll and then hit the brake, pushed the gas pedal slightly, and then hit the brakes again. 

 

— Not yet ... OK.  You can get over.  Go around these cabs and get ready to make a right on Madison Avenue. 

 

Laura stuck the nose of her car into the other lane and slowly pulled into it.  Under the Viaduct, old-Great-White-Way letters shouted: PERSHING SQUARE.  They passed the downtown side of Park Avenue and went under the bridge and Vanderbilt Avenue. 

 

— Better get over to the right lane.

 

Time is running out.  Why delay?  Each item sold separately.  Will Gavin lean forward and say please don’t squeeze the charmer?  You only have one life.  Live it up with this blonde.  Some assembly required, some restrictions may apply.  Pussy: the fabric of our lives.  Batteries not included.  Time to make the overtures.  The right relationship is everything you always wanted. And less.