Nineteen. The Wish
A familiar brown head sprouted up wiry bits of hair behind a spread newspaper.
“So what did you think of my hurricane?” Katrina asked. “Every time I say my name now someone wants to talk about it. I can’t turn on a television without hearing that Katrina has killed thousands. Apparently I’m the worst disaster of the 21st century.”
“Is that what you’ve been up to for the last six months? Because you are impossible to get a hold of,” I said, hidden behind golden aviators for a rare morning appearance.
Katrina pressed her forehead between her hands and glanced through her fingers guiltily. “I’m sorry for falling off the face of the earth.”
“That’s all right.” I poured myself another drink. “You know, after a long winter, it felt good to be getting back to what really matters – getting long breakfasts and messing up the day.”
We were in the oldest diner in the Heights. Katrina eyed the champagne. “You know you're living the dream when you're drinking champagne for breakfast.”
“You can’t leave any left over,” I replied, topping off her glass. “That would be rude. It’s all right, though. Consider it an early birthday present for your genius.”
Behind us was a slow motion ballet behind haphazard stacks of danishes and muffins. The fat middle-aged waitresses and gruff Brooklyn Italians pirouetted around one another in smeared grease aprons, the tallying ching of the cash register singing mournful notes off in the distance.
“I can’t believe you got to abandon this whole place and disappear off to an island in the middle of the Pacific.”
“Technically it’s not in the middle of the Pacific,” I corrected her. “It’s the way the hell off south in the Pacific.” I leaned back in the chair and sighed in happiness. “Second star to the left and straight on till morning. Its closest neighbor is Antarctica.”
“Thank you for the geography lesson. Say hi to the penguins for me.”
“Already did.”
“How did you get approval from the school to study on an island?”
“I asked.”
“What did your department say?”
“First the dean laughed in my face – which I thought was rich coming from someone wearing a bow tie. Then he told me to have fun.” I rubbed the bottle for good luck. “How was the West?”
Katrina sighed. “Los Angeles is one hell of a place. For one it’s a desert even though the ocean is just twenty miles away. It makes the killing machines that demoralize the people and then sell their happiness back to them in bad blockbuster movies. The state motto should really be California: Running away since the Great Depression.”
“I’ve always been amazed that trees grow there.”
“They don’t, really,” Katrina said. “They bring them in from somewhere tropical, I think.” Katrina stabbed with her fork at a tomato. “And there’s not much rain, and the city forgets to water them sometimes.”
“What doesn’t kill them will only make them stronger,” I tried. “Am I right?”
“It’s probably best they don’t get watered anyway,” Katrina mused. “The water is said to have rocket fuel. Not that this place is any better. Did you hear that Pentheus actually tried to bring a pair of horses into Saint Anthony’s?”
“What happened?”
Katrina emitted a pained look. “I think he got arrested.”
“Awesome.”
Katrina stabbed her fork straight into heart of the baked potato on her plate with a fury normally reserved for matters of vengeance. "I just kept thinking to myself," she cried, "Why aren't you HERE?"
“You could have written me,” I protested.
“I DID write you,” Katrina insisted. “You never wrote back.”
I stared at the floor. “I'm sorry.” My voice was lifeless.