When the Wind Blows

When the Wind Blows
I woke up to ambulances whooping and angry taxi drivers honking their horns. I knew I should have gotten that other apartment. It was much quieter, but this one made me look good when I took girls home, although I wouldn't consider myself a ladies man. It was freezing outside, but my apartment was cozy with the furnice blasting. My apartment overlooked the busy streets of New York. I had made it to New York. I have dreamed of being a big artist and making it into the finest New York galleries my whole life. New York was definitely the place to be for the arts. Looking back at my college years, I definitely got off track from my dream. I partied my whole college life away but by some luck, I got a big break and made it here.
Even with all the excitement and inspiration the city brings, I was at a major block right now. I had no inspiration in me. Not a single drop. I had to go down to Andy's Art, the gallery my art was showing in, to set up for my first big gallery showing. I walked out the entrance doors to my apartment building and was hit with a gust of wind. I whistled for a taxi. One pulled over and I got in.
"Oh I'm sorry!" Said a girl dressed in every color of the rainbow. She was wearing a orange hat with a big pom pom on the top of it. She had a smiled slightly embarassed.
"Oh. Umm. It's ok." I replied blankly. Wow. This had never happened to me before. Getting in a taxi at the exact same time as another person. I had thought about this happening a few times, but I always thought I would react angry and fight for the taxi saying I got in it first. But when I looked at her, anger didn't rush to me. I felt like nothing was wrong.
"I'm just gonna wait till you guys figure it out. Jus' tell me where." Said the taxi driver.
"Where you headed?" She said with an enthusiasm I hadn't seen a girl so awake at 7am in a long time. Even I'm not that awake at 7am.
"1340 Willow Street. Up north."
"Is it okay if we share? I'm heading that way anyway." She replied.
"Yeah, sure." I said.
"Willow Street it is," said the driver.
"If you don't mind me asking, why you heading so far up? Not many people work up there and there's not much to do for recreation." I asked curiously. I wondered why a girl like her would ever go up into a boring town when she was in the middle of the best part of New York.
"I'm going to teach up at Willow High School." She said enthusiastically. I was absolutely amazed at how she was actually excited to teach at Willow High School. It was notorious for mean and sassy students.
"What do you teach?" Now I spoke with a bit more interest. I really wanted to get to know her.
"Well, I don't teach there normally. I'm just subbing. I'm not really even a teacher. Most people say my life is unstable because I donʻt have a real job, but all I like to live in the moment. I like to jump around and test the waters, try everything. One day Iʻm a waitress, the next day Iʻm a...sub!" She spoke with passion that filled her up. I had never met a woman like that. She was mezmorizing and intoxicating. She was the complete opposite of me. I always had a goal, always reaching for something. I like black and white things. Concrete things. She lived in the moment. For a second I envied her.
"So, what's your name?" I tried not to sound too creepy.
"Molly. You?" Molly was the prettiest name I had ever heard.
"I'm Charlie. I'm an artist."
"Wow! An artist! I LOVE art! My favorite piece is by Pablo Picasso. It's called "House on the Hill."
"I think Picasso's style is very unique. I know that piece very well. It symbolizes bareness in a town."
"I think it symbolizes a lot more than that! You have to look at it differently!"
And there she went, babbling on for the rest of the ride. She talked about her family's disapprovement of her lifestyle, her neighbor's obsession with heavy metal music, and her cat named Alfred. She said she doesn't have any regrets, unlike me.
Finally we turned on to Willow Street and I saw high school up a bit further. I was sad for this ride to come to an end. I wanted to see her again so I gave her my flyer for my art showing. She said she'd try to make it after work as she got out of the taxi. I was left stunned. The driver turned around with a sly smile and said, "Where to boss?" I looked at him, my eyes still seeing her face. He chuckled and started driving.
I was in spiffy mood the whole time I was seting up my pieces. When my friends, who were helping me set up, came up to me and asked where I wanted a painting to go, I would say, "Where ever you think it's going to pop out!" They would give me weird stares and murmer behind my back. I wasn't usually very care-free and spontanious. Usually I had a place for everything and I knew exactly what I wanted. But not now. As an artist, I should be carefree and adventerous, but I wasn't. I hoped with all my heart that she would show up tonight. The opening was at 8:00 pm. Time wasn't ticking fast enough. Slowly, couple by couple came in the doors and I went through the basic motions; shaking their hands, thanking them for coming. I did all this with my mind and eyes only ready for one person. Molly.
Finally I saw her. Her green eyes were like rare emeralds. The orange hat she had on earlier was still tightly around her ears.
"Hey! You made it!" I exclaimed.
"Wow. This is great! She smiled and took her coat off.
"I'll walk you through the gallery," I said.
We were halfway through the gallery and about to move on to the next piece when she stopped me. When I looked at her reaction to the art, I was amazed at her extremely confused expression. She had stopped at a piece I had recently made. It was a bare-looking, windswept plaza at dusk with a man with an outstretched arm reaching. I tried to capture the emptiness of the plaza I had visited in Spain last summer. I remember a man who was reaching and chasing after a paper that had flown away from him. I though it only represented emptiness and bareness.
"What do you think?" I asked, wondering if she saw the meaning too.
"Hmm. It's longing." WHAT! Longing?! That had never even entered my mind!
"The man is reaching for his lost dreams and hopes. He's been alone and empty for so long and finally and glitter of hope has showed up. The paper represents all the good he is trying to grab. The wind is trying to blow the hope away but at the same time, helping him to see that there is hope. His dreams are catchable." She finished with conviction and confidence.
I just stared at her. She saw everything differently than me. These words had changed everything about my life. I had such a one-track mind that I never bothered to leave room for interpretation.
"Thank you." I said softly. She looked up at me with the wisdom still right on top of her eyes.
"Your welcome." We stood in silence for a while after that, just looking at the painting.
"Do you think I'll ever see you again?" I blurted out without thinking. She looked up at me and hesitated, her eyes lingering on mine. She pulled out a shimmery green pen from her pocket and grabbed one of the gallery's pamphlets and ripped a corner off. She scribbled a name and a number.
"Here." She placed it in my hand. When I looked up, all I could see was a bobbing orange ball. I ran out after her.
"MOLLY! Wait!" She looked back for a second, smiled, and got into her cab. The cab pulled away from the curve and off it went. As I strained my eyes to see one last glimpse of her, I saw the cab driver from this morning driving her away.
Another cab stopped in front of me and I got in. We were at my apartment in minutes. I paid and got out. I stood on the sidewalk just staring.The apartment looked so different than this morning. So much had happened to me. I changed. I reached down into my coat pocket past my keys and the paper with her number and pulled out a big, thick rolled up paper. Right as I pulled it out from the depths of my pocket a gust of wind blew. It blew towards the south unlike this morning when it was blowing towards the north. I saw a flicker of white in the corner of my eye. I reached my free hand into my pocket. NO! I watched the ripped-corner piece of paper get sucked out by the wind, becoming smaller and smaller until it was just a speck. I lost her. I lost Molly. I reached for the paper but new it was too late.
I looked down into the hand holding the thick roll of paper and unrolled it. There on the paper were Molly's bright green eyes staring at me and that warm smile I first saw her wear. She was sitting on a bench in the same plaza in Spain in the painting earlier. She was sitting next to the same man. I realized I was the man in the plaza reaching for inspiration. The wind had blown her my way for inspiration and then blown her away. It was only a flicker, but it was enough to inspire me. Leyna