Where the fuck do I begin? The pandemic obviously fucked everything up for everyone. Jobs, relationships, businesses, wild parties, and worst of all, everyone’s mental health. I know it’s been eight years since my psychiatrist, Dr. Lessing, killed herself on the same day when I was about to have my seventh session. It was a cerebral betrayal. Something that I’m still struggling to get over with. Back to my self medication tactic, I went for my daily walk in my neighborhood of Bushwick, Brooklyn. No offense to Manhattan, but Brooklyn is the new mecca of everything – parties (lots of underground events going on despite the lockdown!), art, music, food, bars, restaurants, literally everything! Although, I still take time for a stroll in Lower Manhattan once in a while. But here’s the funny part of the short story, most of the time whenever I’m drunk or high on something, she appears in front of me. I was passing by Talon Bar on Wyckoff Avenue and Menahan Street. The pandemic has prevented any indoor activity in restaurants, bars, and clubs. But at Talon Bar, they have a nice outdoor backyard with heaters to warm you up during the winter. I looked at the time it’s almost 8:30 PM, so I was like, I need a fucking drink! I tried to find an empty table to myself but the entire patio was filled with people. However, I saw an innocent looking couple at the corner and joined them on their table.
“I’m sorry, I’m just waiting for a date, do you guys mind if I sit wait here for a few minutes?” I politely asked.
“Sure” the guy replied.
The couple seemed nice and very understanding. But I needed the table to myself, So I decided to apply one of my tricks that always pushes strangers away.
“Excuse me, does anybody here know the symptoms of syphilis?” I asked with a serious face.
“No,” the girl replied.
Then the young couple looked at each other and left! I just got the table to myself. I then smiled like an evil asshole and lit myself a cigarette.
Six glasses of old fashioned later, I was buzzed. The good thing of that table where I was drinking was, I was on the corner of the patio garden where I was almost hidden. Suddenly, I found Dr. Lessing, my dead psychiatrist sitting across from my table.
“Look at you, drinking all by yourself!” She said.
“Oh fuck off!” I replied.
“I sense a lot of hostility in you. What’s wrong?”
I took out a cigarette and Dr. Lessing lit it with her steel, vintage lighter. I looked at it and it’s engraved with her name, Diane Lessing.
“Do you really wanna know what’s wrong with me?”
“You bet your drunk ass I do!”
“You never fail to fucking disappoint me. This pandemic is still lingering around like a cheap slut, I haven’t found a day job so I’m still living on unemployment insurance, and the world has no fucking idea that I’m a playwright!”
“Oh boo-hoo-hoo! You’re shielded by unemployment insurance worth $900 a week, that basically pays you for doing nothing and you’re living in a seven bedroom loft! That’s a cushy welfare for someone unemployed.”
“Fuck you!”
“The only real problem that you have right now is that you’re not seeing the plays you’ve written on stage because Broadway is closed!”
“Why the fuck are you here then?”
“Simple, I’m only here to help.”
“That’s funny, because I need help 24/7 and you’re not doing a goddamn thing!”
“If that is so, I wouldn’t be here coming back for you from beyond the grave.”
“Then just fucking help me! You’re my psychiatrist! Well, not anymore because you’re dead!”
“Tell me what is that you want, Lorenzo. It’s beyond difficult it is for me to have in treatment with you if you’re unable to tell me specifically, what is it that you want help with!”
“I’ll tell you what I want. I want this fucking pandemic to be over! I miss drinking inside bars, I miss dancing by myself in clubs, I miss having sex with countless strangers, and you’re goddamn right I miss seeing my work on stage! Overall, I miss the normal way of human interaction.”
“You know that’s beyond my control.”
“Oh bullshit! Then why the fuck are you here?!”
“Lorenzo, let me tell you something, in every century, a cleansing season must begin. And it’s not the first time that this is happening. We’ve got the black plague during the middles ages, the Spanish flu, and now the corona virus! What a time to be alive isn’t it?”
“No, not really.”
“This historical mishaps are necessary in order to move forward to a better future.”
“That’s fucked up!”
“It is, but also necessary. In terms of returning to normalcy, that will be a big yes. There will surely be changes but just like seasons do, things will return to where it was. As with your career as a writer, you will get what you want, eventually.”
“That’s a fucking relief!”
“But in terms of love, you need to stop looking for it. Love itself will find you.”
“That’s ironic, because I’m beginning to think that something’s wrong with me.”
“Why is that?”
“Most people just grow up and love and relationships come in handy for them, with little or no effort at all.”
“You are not like most people, remember that.”
“Is this the part where you tell me that I’m special? Because that sounded a lot like my seventh grade teacher!”
“No, but you are unique and will always rise above the others. You will never be “normal” like the others, so stop trying. All the bullshit that you’re going through right now could be your final phase.”
“What final phase?”
“Your final phase. Meaning, a new chapter in your life is about to begin with little or no struggle.”
I laughed off what Dr. Lessing said. Because I’ve never experienced a life with any form or element of struggle. Just hearing it makes me feel like I’m listening to a church mass with the unicorn as the high priest.
“A life without a struggle?! What are you high?”
“Maybe a little bit, I snorted a little bit of ketamine on my way here. But that’s not my point! My point is, you’re finally arriving at a new chapter in your life where there’s more pluses than minuses.”
“Stop telling me good things when you know for a fact that things won’t get any better.”
“I’m not. That’s the advantage that I have as a dead psychiatrist, I can’t bullshit anymore.”
“I’m not sure if I should smile or vomit on your last sentence.”
“These are just my pieces of good advice. I should probably go, there’s this speakeasy club in Herald Square that I’m dying to check out!”
“Our illusionary treatments are always the best, Dr. Lessing!”
“Always a pleasure, Lorenzo!”
And just like that, she disappeared without a trace in plain sight. I looked across the patio and there’s this girl looking at me. She’s staring at my like I’m fucking crazy. She’s also sitting by herself.
“Instagram it, it’ll last longer!” I said.
“I’m sorry, it’s just I saw you talking to yourself and I thought it was entertaining.” She replied.
“Why don’t you join me, instead of us yelling at each other.” I said.
She joined me at my table. Her name Elisa. She’s an acting student at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in Manhattan, same school where Robert Redford, Grace Kelly, and other award winning actors received their training. She became more interested to know me since finding out that I’m a playwright. Just like that, we immediately got acquainted like some high school class from bumfuck nowhere who found each other here in New York City. We talked for about two hours and ordered more drinks. She then invited me to a house party nearby, and then revealed that she’s got a crush on her guy friend who happens to be gay and has no idea how hard she’s falling for him.
I ended up at the house party where Elisa dragged me to. It was at her friend’s loft near the Bushwick Beer Garden, On Jefferson Avenue and Wyckoff Street. There were several people there at the party when we arrived. Some of them were snorting lines of cocaine, some are passing around a bong. The music was blaring, mostly a mash up between 80’s synth pop and 90’s alternative rock. The music wasn’t bad. Over by the kitchen counter, there’s a platter of bite sized, THC brownies. There’s a sign next to it that says “CAUTION – MARY JANE BROWNIES”. I also met her best friend that she’s in love with – his name is Stan – he’s also an actor and goes to school with Elisa. He looked like the younger version of Ernest Hemingway. In some way, I guess I understand Elisa’s fascination with him. He’s a gay man who’s butch and masculine. What I’ve noticed was when I met Stan, he barely spoke to Elisa. He sounded more interested in talking to me which I found kinda strange, and we did back to back tequila shots with Elisa watching in the background. I noticed too that she’s giving me the sharp eye for spending an extended chat with the man that she’s in love with. So I told Stan that I needed to catch up with her.
“Sorry to cut you off but I think I need to catch up with Elisa.” I said.
“Yeah, sure. I should probably catch up with her soon too. But hey, I wanted to ask you something..” He responded.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Come out tomorrow night and have a drink with me. You’re a playwright and I’m an actor and I believe that we have some kind of connection here. Here’s my phone.”
“And why are you giving me your phone?”
“Put in your number and I will text you.”
I hesitantly typed in my number while glancing at Elisa in the background. I felt kind of guilty for being the person of interest of the guy that she’s madly in love with. Stan then texted me right away from his phone.
“Okay, I got your text.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow? Say yes.”
“Do I have any choice at this point?”
“No, no you don’t have any choice.”
“Alright, I gotta talk to my friend now.”
“OK cool, it’s really nice meeting you, Lorenzo!”
I just nodded my head and walked over to Elisa. She was sitting at the corner couch, looking quite upset. I walked over and sat on the couch next to her.
“Hey, how you doing?” I asked.
“How do you think? Obviously, the guy that I liked is more into you! Elisa replied.
“Elisa, stop blaming me for something that I have no control of.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just romantically frustrated.”
“I know, I’ve been in that situation years ago and please don’t ask me because I don’t wanna talk about it. Look, I have a good feeling from you and I want your friendship. Hope that’s okay.”
“I’d love that.”
“Good, now let’s do some vodka shots!”
Elisa and went back to the kitchen table of the apartment where they had all the booze and did shots of Ketel One vodka. I also noticed that Stan is standing on the corner, staring at me the whole time.
I thought to myself, why am I caught up in this situation? For whatever reason, I seem to attract dysfunctional elements around me. And I said to myself, fuck it! Because life will go on with or without me. Might as well live my fucking life free from any dogmatic restraint or fear.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Bushwick In Fiction 