GILT: All Fall Down by Geneva Lee

Author:Geneva Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub

* * *

At one of the many entrances to the park, there is a man who has painted himself entirely in white—his clothing to his face and his hands. I can’t tear my eyes away from him. Apparently, this living statue gig is par for the course in Central Park, because Jameson is unimpressed.

“Take my picture!” I plant myself next to the man, who still doesn’t move. Jameson groans and digs a few dollars out of his pocket. It’s only then that I realize that this living art show is less about art and more about making money.

Regardless, I have mad respect for anyone who will brave body paint in this humidity.

After we get our shot, Jameson reluctantly agrees to allow me to eat a hot dog from a cart.

“How can you be hungry?” he asks.

“I’m battling an increased appetite. I feel like I ran a marathon this morning.” Sex has to be good for the metabolism.

“Hopefully, that appetite doesn’t lead to food poisoning.” He ignores the dirty look the vendor shoots him from behind the cart.

As we meander through the twisting lanes of New York’s most famous green space, I can’t help becoming enchanted.

“I think I could be a New Yorker,” I announce.

“That’s a tall order,” Jameson warns me.

“You don’t think I could hack it? I grew up on the strip,” I remind him as I toss the hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash can.

“You grew up in Belle Mère,” he corrects me.

“And survived,” I point out.

“Then you could probably make it anywhere,” he agrees. Somehow we manage to miss the zoo. Instead, we happen upon a small pond surrounded by a low brick wall and a restaurant on one side. Little kids watch toy boats drift along its surface as their moms visit nearby.

“Most of New York is not this idyllic,” Jameson tells me, but it doesn’t matter.

Today of all days he can’t scar my perfect vision of the world.

We find a spot under a nearby tree. Before I can claim the empty bench, I realize Jameson isn’t beside me any longer. Whipping around to look for him, I find him the last place I’d expect.

“What are you doing down there?” I ask in a strangled voice. I can’t help hoping that he’s had a sudden onset of early arthritis to explain why he hasn’t dropped to the ground like a normal person. Because he’s not sitting on the grass. Instead, he is perched on one knee.

It takes a few seconds for me to process what’s happening. When I finally do, I’m left with a choice but not the one he’s given me. I opt to join him on the ground. Screw tradition. I need for us to be on an equal footing.

Dropping to my knees, I come face-to-face with the velvet box waiting in his palm.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking.” Sincerity shines in his eyes. “Because we’re going to get through this, and we’ll get through whatever life throws at us next.

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