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Free to Be

Nora McDonald

    Karen looked at the bum who was staring in the restaurant window at her and sighed. Why did she always attract bums and loafers? It had been bad enough back home. But now she was in New York. The last thing she needed was some wacko bum stalking her.
    Sure the bum was free to be a bum. After all wasn’t she in the land of the free? And she was free, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that why she’d come?
    She rose from her table in the window, settled the check and left the restaurant. She had to lose the guy. And quickly. He didn’t look too friendly.
    She wasn’t surprised. No one had been friendly since she’d arrived at JFK.
    “Get behind the line!”
    She’d jumped at the severity of the voice at Passport Control.
    Welcome to America, she’d thought.
    She’d looked at the cop who’d shouted the order. There wasn’t a smile on his face.
    He might have been good-looking, mused Karen. Sure there was a need for security but wasn’t he taking his job a little too seriously? Weren’t the majority of people harmless, weary travellers who would have welcomed something warmer? After all, hadn’t they chosen to come here? To the land of the free.
    Instead she felt like a criminal. Guilty till proven innocent. Like the rest of the queue must have felt for they’d all fallen silent. Even the children. How about innocent till proved guilty? she thought. How about giving her the benefit of the doubt?
    There was no doubt in the cop’s mind. She could see that.
    She watched the slowly disintegrating line of United States citizens drift disencumbered through Control and sighed as she viewed the interminable queue of foreign nationals in front of her. Would any of them get through? And how long would it take?
    It wasn’t quite what she’d expected. It seemed a bad omen. And sure enough, the rest of her trip had been the same.
    Bad.
    The rudeness of the newspaper vendor when she’d asked directions, the impatient annoyance of the staff in the coffee shop where she’d been speechless and indecisive at the vast array of choice on order and the endless hustle and bustle of bodies brushing past her on the seething streets had left her disillusioned with travel. Why did she always pick the wrong place to travel to?
    New York? Forget it. She’d be glad to go home.
    And yet, what was there back home? Or who was there? Nothing. No one. Wasn’t that why she’d wanted to get away in the first place?
    Her eyes searched the street for the bum. He was still hovering outside the window of the coffee shop but his eyes weren’t. His eyes looked directly at her. Amid the dirty brown-stained clothing, the eyes provided a startling, cobalt contrast. For a second she thought she recognised him.
    Impossible, she thought. Who do I know in New York? And who do I want to know. No one.
    He was sizing her up. She’d better get out of there fast. She’d already had one run-in with a wacko last night in the Burger Bar. He’d sat down on the empty seat next to her and she’d had to make a hasty exit. She didn’t want this wacko following her.
    She hailed a cab. It pulled up amid the screeching siren of a squad car. Crime. Crime was everywhere in New York, thought Karen.
    She’d put some space between her and her stalker. Watery space. She’d take the boat out to the Statue of Liberty.
    It couldn’t be worse than her last trip up the Empire State Building.
    She’d really been looking forward to that when she’d arrived and joined the queue waiting to take the elevator up to the top of the building.
    Until she saw who was keeping everyone in line.
    She couldn’t believe it! It couldn’t be! And yet it was. It was the same, unfriendly cop she’d seen at JFK.
    What the hell was that guy doing here as well? Did she have no luck?
    “Step in line there!”
    His eyes had been on her. Did he recognise her? No, no one paid any attention to anyone in New York. She was just a number. A number who’d stepped out of line.
    With the reluctance of a rebel, she stepped back behind a burly guy in front of her. But not before noticing the smug, supercilious smirk on the face of the cop.
    Why! That pompous, over-bearing jerk! she thought. He enjoys throwing his weight around! By God, how did someone like that ever get to be in the police force?
    She’d still been seething as the elevator had shot to the top of the building. And rage had clouded the stupendous view across the Hudson River for her.
    What did she expect? Everyone in New York was the same.
    Maybe the boat trip would be different. She wouldn’t be in New York. She’d be on the water. There’d be some space between her and New York. Space to be.
    Battery Park was right, Karen thought, as she surveyed the interminable queue waiting for the ferry. She’d be battered by the time she reached the beginning. Battered and bruised. Like those drop-outs she’d seen in the park. A caged animal aided into the abattoir. That’s what she felt like. How was she going to enjoy the boat trip with all these people herded together? How was she going to breathe free?
    The ferry pulled away from the shore-line. Karen took up a position at the rear of the ferry. She held on to the railing as the New York skyline slowly stretched itself across the shore like some spreading sickness.
    She turned her back on the shoreline and surveyed the throng of people pushing for a vacant spot. No, she wasn’t going to be pushed about. She wasn’t going to give up her spot. Then, suddenly, she changed her mind. She turned quickly and surveyed the tumultuous wake the boat was creating. It couldn’t be! And yet it was. The bum who’d been ogling her through the coffee shop window was a few people behind her.
    Oh God, I hope he hasn’t seen me, thought Karen. No, he can’t have. Calm yourself, Karen, she thought. Act like any other tourist and enjoy the view. She lifted her head from the tumultuous tumble of the water at her feet and looked towards the horizon. The ferry was now quite some distance from the shore. The negativity of New York had vanished, replaced by spectacular scenery. For a second the majesty of the towering skyline brought a tear to Karen’s eye. She had an overwhelming feeling of homesickness. Was it her feeling or was she picking up the feelings of all those immigrants who had stood on the very same spot and felt the same? An immense feeling of loneliness drowned her. Did all those other immigrants feel like her? Wish they had someone to share the view with? She didn’t have time to ponder on it. The couple next to her vacated their position by the railing, someone took their place and a voice said, “You feel it too, don’t you?”
    Karen turned round.
    Oh my God, she thought. It’s the bum!
    That’s all she needed. Being hit on by some wacko bum!
    She tried to back out of her position by the rail but the crowd behind her had her pinned to the railing.
    “The spectacular view. And no one to share it with. They must all have felt it. All those others who have stood where we are standing.”
    It wasn’t what she’d expected. But then neither had New York been. Against her will, she turned and looked at the tramp. He wasn’t old. Round about her own age, she thought. Long, unkempt hair. Dirty sweater and jeans half covered by a long, soiled mac. But startlingly bright cobalt eyes.
    Must be a New York characteristic, thought Karen.
    A wave of compassion surprised her. How had the poor guy come down to this? And how had he managed to afford the fare for the ferry? He was probably harmless anyway. Just a poor guy down on his luck.
    She surveyed the New York skyline. Maybe she’d misjudged the city. Busy, yes. Teeming, yes. With thousands of people struggling to survive. To make a living. To do better. It took time. And effort. To make a better life.
    “You don’t recognise me, do you?” said the bum.
    Sure, I do, thought Karen. You were the bum outside the coffee shop. A wave of guilt washed over her. Bum? He wasn’t a bum! Just a guy. A guy who hadn’t made it yet. Maybe he needed a helping hand.
    “I’ve been following you around,” said the bum.
    Oh my God, thought Karen. He’s been stalking me!
    Her compassion crumpled.
    She tried once again to back off from the railing but the crowd had her imprisoned.
    “You and others!”
    Oh, my God, a serial killer! she thought.
    Almost as if echoing her thoughts, he said, “There’s a killer on the loose.”
    The boy to her left vacated his position at the railing and Karen moved into it. Maybe she could move back from here. The crowd behind her now seemed thinner.
    “That’s why I was at the airport.”
    Oh God! thought Karen. He’s followed me since then.
    “He’s been stalking foreign nationals.”
    He’s using he so he doesn’t feel guilty, thought Karen.
    “That’s why I’ve been covering all the tourist destinations. That’s why you’ve kept seeing me.”
    I didn’t see him, thought Karen.
    “You still don’t remember, do you?” he persisted.
    Karen shook her head numbly.
    “The cop at the airport?”
    What was he talking about? She remembered the cop at the airport only too well.
    “The cop at the Empire State?”
    Oh my God, thought Karen. Was this a long list of his hits? She hadn’t liked the cop. But she wouldn’t wish harm to anyone.
    “That was me!”
    The guy’s a complete wacko, thought Karen. He thinks he’s a cop!
    She spotted an opening in the crowd behind her. Freedom was almost hers.
    “They’ve put me undercover now. To see if that has any better success.”
    She was about to make the break when his hand hardened on her shoulder and he pulled her round to face him. With a swift movement, he whisked the hair off his head.
    She surveyed the short, cropped hair.
    “Do you recognise me now?” he said.
    She shook her head numbly.
    “Look into my eyes,” he said.
    Oh, my God! I’ve been wrong! she thought. It wasn’t the bum! It was the cop! The smug, supercilious cop!
    Except he wasn’t. Somehow.
    “It’s you!” she said inanely.
    He smiled and the sun seemed to come out in a cobalt sky.
    “How do you like New York?” he said.
    Her hand gripped the railing firmly. She looked at the spectacular setting in front of her. She’d been so wrong. So wrong about the bum. So wrong about New York. People were busy. Yes. Busy keeping other people safe. Busy scratching a living. Busy trying to lead a better life. If they hadn’t time for friendship with a foreigner, it wasn’t their fault. It was her fault. She’d given up too easily. She hadn’t kept trying. Like those New Yorkers. They kept at it. They never gave up. They weren’t aliens. They were just like her.
    Searching for something better.
    And you could find it in the most amazing places. With the most amazing people.
    She looked at the scruffy cop and the spectacular skyline. She had someone to share it with after all.
    Thank you, she said silently, to the universe.
    He must have read her mind.
    “I’m off duty after this,” he said. How about goofing off in the city?”
    She laughed.
    “Goofing off would be good,” she replied. “I can’t imagine anything better.”
    “There’s nothing better than New York to goof off in!” he laughed. “as long as you let this goof get out of this clothing.”
    “That might be a good idea,” she laughed back. “After all, I wouldn’t want people to think I only attract bums and loafers!”
    He smiled.
    “Not that you’re not free to be a bum, if you want to?” she added hastily.
    “That’s the beauty of New York,” he said. “You can be anything you want to be! But I think I’ve had enough of being a bum for now.”
    Karen smiled.
    Yes, she thought. New York was amazing after all.
    She could be what she wanted to be.
    But the best thing?
    For now at least.
    She was just free to be.



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