Monsters of Manhattan

Chapter Five: A Walk Through Central Park

-----

With my spine arched as I kneeled against the toilet, I hurled another large amount of puke. Three weeks had passed since Justin attacked me, and after debating if I should or shouldn’t, I finally decided to take up boxing lessons with a personal trainer. If Justin ever thought he was going to overpower me again, he had another thing coming. 

After the first boxing lesson, I puked everything that entered my mouth, including water. Grayson, my trainer, thought I was dehydrating and encouraged me to visit a doctor before I returned for our next session the following week.

After undergoing various forms of tests, my doctor came to the conclusion that I was suffering from malnutrition and stress, but I knew better. It was the guilt and fear of Ethan finding out what Logan and I did that was what was making me sick. Not lack of vitamin D.

Three weeks ago when Ethan woke up—he didn’t understand why I was there or why he was in the hospital. Since then, he hasn’t said a single word about remembering anything. His mom, however, did inform him of why he was in the hospital, and after yell at him for being irresponsible; they both broke down crying for half an hour. 

On a positive note, Ethan took my sudden involvement in his life well. He thanked me for being by his side, when no one else did. I wanted to tell him it was not because they did not want to see him, but because they did not want to see him in pain. Even though Ethan wasn’t part of the right crowd, people loved him. It might have to do with his cheeky personality or amazing smile, but one thing was for certain. Ethan was a charmer.

Majority of the time Ethan and I spent together involved us arguing about Heinz Koppel and Edward Hughes artwork. Ethan said Koppel was more artistic, while I claimed it didn't matter considering they were both from different time periods and created different forms of art.

Thinking of the happy memories I had recently created with Ethan made me feel horrid as I thought of the possibilities of him finding out about what I did. If Ethan found out what happened, what would he say or do?

Hundreds of open ending possibilities roamed my head causing my stomach to ache. I parted my lips as soon as I felt another round of bile swim up my throat.

----------------------- 

The sun’s elegant rays shinned high above Manhattan’s elite as Ethan and I walked shoulder to shoulder through Central Park. There were no signs of clouds in today's blue sky, and the park was crowded with New York City habitants and tourists.

The park had its usual spark of sunshine and laughter running throughout its mile long body. Oak trees provided shade for the ongoing picnics, while the flowers and ducks illustrated beautiful background scenery of a romantic afternoon for couples on a date.

Ethan continued narrating his hilarious story about an accident with a goat when he was younger. He was just about to get to the part where the goat's hooves collided with his face, when out of the corner of my eye I caught a familiar face from afar.

Sitting on a park bench, with his long eyelashes hooding his hazel eyes, was the boy that belonged on billboards. The boy who stood in the middle of the night on Bank Street, prepared to sell cocaine to a young girl from the Upper East Side. It was the drug dealer who provided me with Ethan's kryptonite.

He sat alone with his hands stuffed deep into—what appeared to be—his school uniform tan colored trousers, while his navy school uniform coat laid next to him concealing the school logo imprinted on the front pocket. His shiny eyes were planted on a pair of twin girls—around the ages of six—throwing breadcrumbs at a circle of pigeons. They wore school uniforms too, but the Upper West Side logo was easily spotted on their chests.

Why was a drug dealer doing with two little girls from the Upper West Side? Shouldn't he be selling his stash to addicts around town? Or were the girls just a mere distraction from the drug exchange happening elsewhere? My eyes scanned the park looking for any sign of wrongdoing, but they were just met with the laughter of the hundreds of park occupants of the day. 

"Are you okay, Chelsea?" Ethan asked. I had forgot he was standing next to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied as convincing as I could.

I didn't want Ethan to worry about me. He had become protective recently, and I greatly appreciated it too. Especially when Logan tried to talk to me in the hall last week. Don't get me wrong; I would not have mind talking to him, but after my altercation with Justin. I didn't want to have to anything to do with Logan or his family. Of course, Logan was surprised and worried when Ethan told him to leave me alone. Logan sent me a text that afternoon and demanded an explanation for my sudden friendship with Ethan. I explained that it was just a precaution. If Ethan started to remember, I would be there to either help him understand it was a horrible mistake, or blackmail him into keeping his mouth shut. 

Tearing my eyes away from the drug dealer sitting across the park, I turned to Ethan who wore a struggling expression and avoided any eye contact with me.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned over the anxiety-filled expression plastered on his light colored face.  The accident had caused Ethan to become awfully pale, but he was slowly starting to recollect his skin tone. 

Ethan bit his pink lips and continued to avoid meeting my eyes. 

“Ethan?” I pestered on. Occasionally, Ethan’s mind would venture on its own without his control. One moment he was fully engaged in a conversation with me, the next he was completely out of it—his eyes wandering to various objects before returning his attention back to me, unaware of his temporary departure. 

The doctors assured it was a side effect from his coma, and it would wear off in a couple of weeks.

“Sorry, it’s just…I was wondering…” he began. My anxiety level swelled to an extraordinary high stature, and I felt like I would collapse any minute. If Ethan asked me about his accident, I don’t know what I would say. I could blackmail him into keeping his mouth shut, or beg him to understand that it wasn’t my intention to nearly kill him. 

After all, things had changed between Ethan and I. Lauren had just commented on my new friendship with Ethan last week. She classified us as some form of  “friends with benefits.” Of course, I—like Ethan—had my equal share of friends with benefits and they never ended well. Usually one of us ended up liking the other more, or someone just found another “friend” who was better.

I laughed her comment off stating she was being silly, and Ethan and I were merely friends, who happened to develop a close friendship after tragedy struck. Plus, Ethan would never develop any feelings for me, or at least that’s what I tell myself when I receive butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw Ethan’s cheeky smile.

“If… you were free Friday night?” he finished, blushing and still avoiding any eye contact.

“Yeah, “ I replied, unsure where this was leading too. Why was he blushing? It’s perfectly okay to ask someone if they’re doing anything on fri-oh. Ethan was asking me out? 

“So…”he said as kicked the ground with the tip of his shoes. “Want to go see a movie?” It was adorable seeing him shy and nervous; Ethan never really struck me as the type to be insecure about anything.

“Sure,” I approved, smiling up at him. It would have been more romantic if he were looking at me, instead of staring at the ground. He tore his eyes off the ground and peered into mine, I saw the clear glimmer of sliver shine in his bright green eyes, and the breathtaking cheeky smile that unveiled his loveable dimples.

It was a shame I had never seen Ethan’s beauty until now; he was truly breathtaking at times.  

“Okay,” he muttered, smirking as he grabbed my hand and led me towards the lake with the rowboats.

The sliver and smile never left his eyes and face that day. 

----