It was four days before Christmas Eve. Charlotte walked down 41st Street to the New York Public Library. The weather was perfect for how she was dressed, in a brown shawl and her long sleeved, black shirt and her light black pants. She held her books tight against her side and likewise her hair was pulled back tight and instead of contacts she wore her glasses that day.
She greeted Carol behind the desk and grabbed a book from the pile to put it away. By the time she found the space she, for the first time, read the bind, which said, Running Without Counting by Arnold Kosen.
She walked back to the desk much slower than the speed she had been keeping since she got up that morning.
“You okay?” Carol asked.
“Hm?”
“Are you tired?”
“No.”
“Looked like maybe you saw someone you knew.”
“No.”
Charlotte wrote in her journal on the subway as it screeched and wobbled and the light occasionally dimmed. There were only a dozen other people in the whole car.
A tall man with messy hair and jeans stood at the pole in front of her. He said, “Can I read that?”
She continued writing. He looked around to see a woman looking at him, an older woman, expressionless. He cleared his throat. “Mam?”
She looked up with her eyes and not so much with her head, “What?”
“Can I read some?”
“Of this?”
“Yes.”
“No, of course.”
“I’ll get off afterwards and I’ll never see you again. It’s like an experiment, for me.”
“Do you have any personal writing that I can read?”
“Yes. Here.” He offered the small notebook from his pocket and she surrendered her journal. They looked at the last written pages.
“This is a to-do list,” she said.
He nodded and focused on her book. It read, “Today I saw a book called, Running Without Counting. I forgot to check it out. If only I could take books home. I’m in the wrong place and the right place, but I think that goes for New York City, my apartment, my occupation and my clothes but maybe nothing is, not my family, my language, my age, generation but yea, planet I’m not sure about.
His to-do list read, “Pick up Dan, Watch Jane’s video, Paint wall green, Recycle computer…”
“Can I keep this?” he said.
“No,” she said.
“This is very interesting stuff. I think we would make great conversation art.”
“I don’t speak as I write,” she said.
“I can tell that and it’s why I said that. I’m good at getting words out of people.”
“I’m getting off here.”
“The lions, right?” he said.
She only looked at him with concern. She took back the book and skimmed the last page.
“There’s a clue,” he said.
She didn’t say any more to him and got off. On the platform she slipped her journal into her bag and then realized that she was still holding the to-do list.
She threw it on her kitchen counter. A guy with curly hair walked to the fridge in shorts and a ripped t-shirt. “Hey Charlotte. What’s your Christmas look like?”
She leaned against the counter. “Nobody’s called me. It’s always complicated.” She sighed. “It’s never in one place.”
“Maybe we should both stay home. Or maybe that’s beat.”
“I don’t know Billy. It’s in a week.”
“Did you get gifts for anyone?”
“No. Did you?”
“Yes. Earlier today. I really don’t like it anymore.”
“I know what you mean. Gifts. It’s stupid.”
He cracked open a beer and drank, walking away. She took her coat off.
She laid in bed reading. She stopped and looked over at the to-do list on her bedside table. She switched to the to-do list and read it backwards. “Recycle computer, Paint wall green, Watch Jane’s video, Pick up Dan, Buy green paint, Drop off Dan, Send Maria a birthday card, Go for run, Christmas shopping, Quit job-“
She walked down 41st street in a long, dark blue skirt and a dark, red shirt and a violet scarf. Her hair was down but she wore her glasses. The sky was gray.
“Check this out, Carol,” she said at the counter.
“Check something out?” she said, bewildered.
“A man left his to-do list on the subway.”
“Did you read it?”
“I read two pages almost but he gave me permission.”
Carol handed her a book, “Sounds like a story,” she said.
“Never mind.”
“I want to know.”
“Later I’ll tell you.”
She sat down at a table in Bryant Park, behind the library. She wrote in her journal, “He only read one page so it’s not fare for me to read more than two of his pages. He seems to know that I’m at this library. I mentioned the book but I don’t know how he narrowed it to this one.”
She looked around just to see if he was there. She put her things away and returned to the library. The eyes of the lion on the right wing of the steps seemed to follow her. The marble ceiling hovered above her head as she walked through the lobby, like clouds. She arrived on her floor and walked to her counter. “Has anyone come by looking for me?” she asked.
“Is that why you’re so early?”
“What time is it?”
“1:15. You were only gone for 15 minutes. Is this about a man?”
“Don’t put it like that. I have his very important to-do list.”
“What’s so important that he has to do?”
“Recycle a computer. Possibly pick up his son. This wall might not get painted green. He might forget to quit his job.”
“See. You’re saving him from remembering to quit his job. When Christmas is over he’ll remember the importance of having a job with a whole new year ahead of him.”
“You think he’s depressed because of Christmas?”
“He seems divorced, if he’s picking up his son.”
“Married folks pick up their children from things like sports.”
“And it’s on their to-do list? Is it a planner or a notebook?”
“A notebook. Yes, I understand. He figured out that I’m at the Lions. I’m just expecting him. I’ll be surprised if he just puts it behind him.”
“And he knows you work here?”
“He read a page of my journal because I gave him permission to on the subway.”
“Are you lonely?”
A single snowflake fell on her shoulder as she entered her apartment building.
“You have a package,” her roommate said.
“A package?” she asked.
“I tossed it on the couch. There was no bark. The puppy must be dead.”
She opened the book-sized package and removed Running Without Thinking. A chill went through her body. She looked at the window. Nobody was in it. She pulled the curtain down.
“This is weird- Billy?”
“Wha ah?” he said, brushing his teeth.
“This guy I was expecting to come to the library instead sent me a gift. It’s sort of annoying because I’d rather talk to him. Carol built up all these questions like does he have a son.”
“You met a guy Charlotte?”
“No.”
She put down her book in bed and switched it with Running Without Thinking.
The next day in Bryant Park she removed the to-do list from her pocket. He had filled about ten pages with it but nothing was crossed out. She read the whole thing, searching for clues. She circled, Suzie’s Art Studio and it’s Manhattan address.
After work she found the studio, where a woman was cleaning up alone. The door was locked. The woman opened the door, “Yes?”
“Hi. Do you have a child named Dan here in the daytime?”
“I have a Dan.”
“I have something of his father’s. I think so anyway. Can you help me?”
“Come inside.”
“He left his to-do list with me.”
“How did he figure out your address?” the woman said as they sat at a small table covered in crayon wax, marker inc and dried glue.
“I think he went to the library and figured it out.”
“He was a detective.”
“Did he just recently quit?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should I be scared?”
“I think he’s a fairly safe person. But now that I know you’re a fairly safe person I’ll give you his number. How’s that?”
“That’s good- I mean, thank you.”
She knocked lightly on Billy’s door. “Will you come call someone with me?”
“Who? That man?”
“He’s just a guy. Come.”
They sat on the couch and she made Billy dial. It rung. Billy said, “Are you going to speak?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hello?” asked a voice.
Billy gave her the phone. “Hello?” she said.
“Hello.”
She said nothing. Then, “Did you send me Running Without Thinking?”
“Is this Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. Have you started reading it?”
“Yes. How did you get my address?”
“How did you get my number? My to-do list?”
“I’ve been meaning to give it back to you.”
“If you’re comfortable with human interaction we can meet at a coffee place and have a conversation.”
She looked at Billy. “Maybe right now?” she suggested.
Billy looked at his watch.
“It’s nine o’clock. I live in Manhattan. You live in Brooklyn. I can go there but coffee places will be closing.”
“You can sleep here,” she said.
Billy said, “Tell him you’ll call him back.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Billy said, “Have you ever-“
“I know.”
“Can it not wait for tomorrow?”
“I’m too curious. He quit his job. He paints walls green.”
“Let’s not have him sleeping over just yet. Invite him to Bryant Park.”
“I only get a half hour.”
“For lunch? That sucks. I see now. See him after work.”
“I don’t want to have dinner with him.”
“Trust me. Him sleeping over is more personal than that.”
“I disagree.”
“Would you sleep over his house?”
“No. No way.”
He gestured to say, ‘There you go.’
When she called back he said, “Can you call in sick tomorrow?”
“Well, I can meet you in Bryant for lunch.”
“That’s not enough Charlotte. Call in sick. It’s worth it.”
“Okay.”
The next morning she called Carol and not wanting to lie, said, “For personal reasons, I can’t come in.”
“Okay. I’ll see if Gwen can come.”
“Thanks Carol.”
She wrote in her journal until 10 AM when he rung her buzzer, She said to the intercom, “Doors open. Just come in,” and she showered. She came out with her blouse buttoned all the way up and jeans. She put her hair loosely in a pony tail. He resembled how he looked on the subway. His hair was a little messy but clean. He had on a maroon shirt. “Do you know my name?” he asked from the couch.
She shook her head.
It’s Alan. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Me too. Do you like art museums?”
“I like one’s that I haven’t been to in a while.”
“How about the Brooklyn Art Museum.”
“I’ve been there.”
“The Whitney.”
“No, not in some time.”
“Shall we?”
On the subway she asked, “Why did you quit your job?”
“I was a detective. I realized that I didn’t want to catch people anymore.” He suddenly appeared older than she remembered, in his late thirties. She was 26.
“May I ask if you’re divorced?” she asked.
“You may ask.”
“Are you?”
“No. I have a son but I never got married. The woman was pro-life and I stopped dating fundamental folks.”
She laughed at this.
“Do you have my to-do list?”
“Yes.” She took it from her bag.
“Thanks. I should write my number on these. I’m impressed at your detective work.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you like the book?”
“Yes. It’s inspiring. It’s written by this long distance runner that had an epiphany while running.”
“To stop thinking?”
“Yes but I guess there’s more to it. Not thinking is a lifestyle. It takes a lot of confidence.”
“Why did you want to look at it at work?”
“I’m not sure. The title but I don’t know why.”
At the museum he made jokes at the paintings.
“This one’s about sodomy.”
“Stop it!” She said.
“This one is misunderstood. He was mocking minimalism. It’s sarcasm.”
“Really?”
“No.”
They walked past store windows with fake snow and a sidewalk Santa Clause.
“What are your Xmas plans?” he asked.
“I haven’t confirmed anything.”
“Christmas Eve is tomorrow.”
“Well. What about you?”
“This year Mary has this man over so I can see Dan another time. I’m just as weird as you.”
A moment later she said, “You make me want to quit my job Alan.”
“Yea? If only I took America to the museum, there would be anarchy.”
“I suppose. But what will you do for money?”
“I don’t know. Does that make you un-attracted to me?”
“No. I’m not saying I am.”
“I’m not attracted to me either. Let’s do something fun.”
“What is fun?”
“What do people in books do for fun?”
“They dance in castles.”
He stopped in front of the knights in the Met Museum surrounded by medieval artifacts and a very high ceiling. He extended his hand to her.
She took it and he circled around her elegantly, spinning her and then pulling her in. He put their arms out and led them as she laughed.
She ran to the statue of angels on the fountain by the pond in South East Central Park and stood on the ledge of the fountain. He followed slowly behind. She asked, “What do you wish for?”
“To be with you on Christmas Eve,” he said.
She climbed down.
He caught up with her.
“I have to go home,” she said.
“Okay.”
And she walked through the big tunnel alone. He put his hands in his pocket and turned around.
She didn’t get out of bed until 10:30 AM. It was Christmas Eve. Her mother and father both called separately. She asked if they would be upset if she stayed home. They said, no, to her relief. She didn’t write in her journal. She put on shorts and a sweatshirt. She ran through Brooklyn, trying not to think, passing people in big coats, everyone breathing visible breath. She ran until some snow began to fall and she looked up and ate some.
She didn’t turn her phone on until 2:00 PM when she had been reading Running Without Thinking, sitting on the floor by the heater, under the window.
She had no messages. She closed her eyes. In ten minutes Billy arrived, “Are you going to your parents’?” he asked.
“No.”
“Come to mine. Or is that the same thing? Anyway you are welcome and you don’t have to worry about bringing anything.”
“I feel like staying in.”
“What about tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll probably go to my mother’s or actually, honestly, I haven’t thought about it.”
“This is unusual behavior. I’ll give you a call later.”
At 11:00PM she finished Running Without Thinking. Then she called Alan. He answered, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. Are you with people?”
“No. I’m in a 24 hour coffee place that is actually open all throughout Christmas Eve and is in Brooklyn.”
“Where?”
“Two blocks from your building.”
She entered within twenty minutes. There was a hot chocolate waiting for her.
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she said.
“You can stir it. It helps when you have nothing to say.”
“I have things to say. Like when you’re running, you just go and you do what feels right, you do it trusting, or not trusting, but that’s how things happen, other wise you’d never know.”
“I think you’ve lost it.”
“I know. I’m very happy that I lost it. However I shouldn’t have left it chained to the meter.”
“It’s not very humane to do that, but then again, dogs are not allowed in.”
“We should have boycotted that store anyway.”
“But our children were hungry.”
