“Hello?”
More silence. He was about to hang up when he heard her say his name.
“Ryan? Is that you? I can’t hear you.”
“Uh, can you hear me now?” he stammered.
“Oh yeah. Now I can. Loud and clear,” she said casually, obviously not sharing his anxiety. “So what’s up?”
“Uh, it’s nothing major. But I didn’t know if maybe… you might have any time to talk sometime today?”
“Sure. My shoot’s about to start back up, but I’ll be done in a couple hours. You want to call me back?”
“I could…” Ryan said, his heart pounding. “But is there any chance we might be able to meet up in person?”
“Oh. Well,” she hesitated, “I don’t think I can make it back up to Boston again this soon.”
“No. I… uh… I actually just arrived in New York.” He paused, shaking his head. That had to sound weird. “I don’t know how you feel about stalkers?”
“I love them. Love them!” Annamaria laughed. “Hey, let me give you a call when I’m done. I’m staying at the Peninsula Hotel, if you want to head over that way.”
“Awesome. Oh, and if you don’t mind, can you just give me your room number? I brought some of my higher-powered telephoto lenses down with me, and I just need to know where to aim them.”
To Ryan’s relief, she laughed again — a bubbly carefree laugh that reached through the phone and demanded reciprocity. “I’ll see you in a couple hours,” she giggled. He was feeling better already.
But as he walked out of the train station onto W 31st street to start the 25 block trek toward the hotel, the melancholy seeped back in. The stagnant New York air was thick, holding on to every scent the city had to offer, and the low-hanging sky was a virulent gray that seemed to infect everything it came in contact with, somehow sapping the color from both heaven and earth.
By the time his phone rang an hour and a half later, his mind was once again wholly consumed with what had led him to New York in the first place.
Then he caught sight of Annamaria stepping out of the lobby of the Peninsula. The world stood still for a moment as she walked out in a plain white V-neck T-shirt paired with well-worn jeans and flip-flops, an ensemble that tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of other women in the city were futilely trying to wear like she did.
She made fleeting eye contact with Ryan and then headed north into Central Park, as Ryan followed at an inconspicuous distance.
A hundred yards or so into the park, she veered off the asphalt path toward a large steep-faced boulder with a flat top under a mature elm tree. Ryan tried his best not to struggle as he scaled the nine-foot rock to join her at the top. And at last, they sat side by side, their legs dangling off the front of the boulder, nearly invisible to the rest of the city.
“Nice spot,” Ryan said, squeezing his knees together to prevent any potentially misinterpretable touching of their legs.
“Yeah, I found it last time I was here on a shoot. Every so often, I’ll leave my phone in my room and walk down here — just to think; stare off into nothing for a little while; cry sometimes. I’ve never been bothered here. You’re kind of away from everything. But I like that I can still hear the city. It’s kind of comforting.”
He gave her a silent nod that told her he got it. He knew the fine line between solitude and isolation, and he’d found himself on both sides of it at different times alone with his thoughts.
“But you’re the first person I’ve shown this place to,” she said with a fragile smile, trying to keep the mood from getting too somber. “So congratulations!”
Ryan took his phone out of his pocket and pretended to take a picture. “Gimme just a sec here. I’m gonna upload this location to my Facebook page and then tweet it out real fast.”
Annamaria laughed and threw her shoulder into his, nearly knocking him off the rock. “So how have you been?” she asked with a playful smirk. “Why did you come to visit me?”
He strained to smile back at her, but his expression read more sorrow than joy, and eventually his eyes fell to the ground below.
“What is it?” she asked, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.
“I just found out that my mom was pregnant when she died.”
“Oh my God. How do you know?”
“I read an email between her and my dad. They were gonna surprise me with the news the night of the car wreck.
“It’s just that…” He paused, staring straight ahead, shaking his head slowly. “I always wanted a sibling.”
“I’d give anything to have mine back,” Annamaria whispered.
Ryan continued, “And I’ve started to remember some things that might not be significant, but after hearing what happened to you and listening to Dillon’s rants, I’m starting to wonder if Avillage really is behind a lot of this. Maybe Dillon’s right. Maybe part of every dollar I ever make will be padding the bank accounts of my parents’ — my family’s — killers.”
Annamaria took Ryan’s hand in hers, ready to listen for as long as he wanted to talk.
“This is gonna sound weird,” he confessed with a nervous a laugh, “but the most impactful thing my parents ever said to me was after they’d already died. I mean, I know it wasn’t really them, but it seemed real. And it’s what they would’ve said if they could have.
“My dad told me that I was their everything — even more so since they were gone. And then my mom told me to do four things. She said, ‘Make a difference. Be happy. Love. And be loved.’
“‘Make a difference’ was first.
“That’s always been my biggest motivation — trying to be their legacy. But now I’m almost done with college, and what I’m good at is taking tests and making money. That’s not what they cared about.”
“What do you care about?” Annamaria asked.
“I care about my family.” That was a cop out though. Who didn’t care about their family? He thought for a while before coming up with a real answer, as if it were the first time he’d ever considered the question. “And I guess I care about us Avillage orphans. Even Dillon.
“I mean, look at us. We’re a pretty complex group of… anomalous individuals — outliers, I guess you could say. All of us have come from tragedy early in our lives, yet most of us have achieved or are at least on our way to achieving some level of what society would call success.
“But I think we still resent and fear some malevolent puppet master behind the scenes at Avillage headquarters. And I think most of us have never come to grips with the trauma from our childhoods.”
“I know I haven’t,” Annamaria said. “But I know what I have to do. If I could ever work up the nerve to do it.
“I’ve gotta go back to Panama. Back to the orphanage in Rainbow City and confront my old headmaster. Then, somehow, find a way to be of some use to those kids again. That’s what I care about. And I used to be good at it. Thing is, I don’t know if anyone could even take me seriously at this point.”
He looked Annamaria squarely in the eye still squeezing her hand firmly, his voice now even and steady. “Annamaria, listen to me. It’s incredible that you’ve been able to get where you are right now with everything you’ve been through. I’m not saying you’re not beautiful. You are. But don’t ever let anyone try and convince you that you got where you are on your looks. Your looks nearly damned you. They were an obstacle you had to overcome. And you did it.”
She smiled appreciatively, her lower lip quivering.
“And I hate to say it right now, but I actually have to get back to Boston. My train leaves in half an hour. Thank you for talking to me. I know it was quick and I hogged most of the conversation, but you have no idea how helpful it was. And if you ever need someone better — or I should probably say different — than your rock in central park to talk to, I’m here. Any time.”