Samsara

Part 1 - In London

It was Thursday morning and Annabel was frantically packing. Her flight to New York was at 5 pm this afternoon, but with the 2 hour commute to London Heathrow Airport, she did not have that much time left.

Although a bit stressed and in a rush, Annabel was extremely excited about her first trip to New York City - the place that has inspired her since adolescence.

Growing up Annabel has always felt a bit misunderstood, a bit misplaced and quite a bit smarter than most people around her. She found her classmates boring and mediocre and she found adults to be phony and superficial. At 16, her main form of escape from all of it was the art of cinema. She watched what was considered quite unusual for a teenager in 2006. There were a few major “periods” of interest which included: silent movies from the 20s (she was quite interested in the pre-code era); talkies from the 30s; a very long-lasting 50s obsession and of course anything scoring above 8.5 on IMDb. But what ended up defining Annabel’s interest in film, was Woody Allen’s early work.

Since the day she watched Manhattan she has been hooked both on the director’s work and The City, which as per Allen’s portrayal seemed full of the type of people that she wanted to be around, but that were nonexistent in social circles - smart, funny, cynical, intellectual and interesting.

So it happened that most of the major works that would end up strongly influencing Annabel were set in New York. She loved Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise and Scorsese’s Taxi Driver.

Due to what she considered her refined taste, which she’d bet no other teenager in her rural town shared, Annabel thought that she was special and meant for a glorious creative career. As a child, she wanted to be an artist, then as an adolescent she considered fashion design to be more her line. Then there was acting, with an attempt to join an acting class, which as one might expect she ended up quitting because the other kids were not as cool as she thought they would be. In adulthood, after realising that the actual chance of her becoming any of the above was close to 0, she thought that maybe writing was more realistic.

At almost 30, Annabel was working a well-paying but dull corporate job. Her beginnings in the field excited her as was deceived by the idea that a corporate career would satisfy her ambition. Now she could not help but roll her eyes at almost every work email she’d receive and felt a mixture of contempt and sympathy for her colleagues, most of whom were living a dreadful middle class existence - one to which she had formed a strong aversion ever since she watched American Beauty at age 18.

But today Annabel had no time to dwell on her existential struggles. Yes, her weeks were boring and uninspiring, but she was going to NYC for her 30th birthday and now that is what mattered.

Part 2 - In New York

Annabel’s first couple of days in New York covered the average millennial tourist’s path, namely visiting the MET, then the MoMA, going for ramen at Momofuku, dumplings at Veselka and then crack pie at the Milk Bar. She enjoyed an off-Broadway show and stumbled upon a comedy night in the East Village. It was not the same New York as portrayed in Annie Hall, but Annabel was still enjoying her time there.

There was one thing on Annabel’s touristy agenda that was special to her and that would transport her back to the golden days of the city - a jazz night at Cafe Carlyle that she had planned for the night before her 30th birthday.

So the day came and Annabel, dressed in high waist suit pants and a beige oversized silk shirt made her way to The Carlyle on E 76th Street. She arrived early, so that she could grab a seat at the bar and ordered a Negroni. She wasn’t entirely sure who was playing that night, but in any case she was confident that she’d enjoy the show whoever it was.

Given that she was the only solo visitor sitting at the bar she knew that she’d attract some attention. She only hoped it would be the right kind.

- Tourist? - asked a man in his mid to late forties, sitting next to her.

- Yes! Not a prostitute! - Annabel gave her best shot of cracking a joke.

- Ha-ha, I didn’t think you were! You look like someone who’d enjoy the Carlyle. Let me buy you a drink - said the man confidently, but unassumingly.

- Sure, thank you! - Annabel felt flattered.

- Enjoy your evening! - the man smiled politely and went to join his party, who were sitting at the table in the front. They were a mixture of men and women, all very chic and Annabel imagined they worked in a creative but lucrative field.

Now with two Negronis in front of her, Annabel felt the need to quickly finish at least one. She did so and she felt her mood boosted, right on time for the first performer. Not much time had passed and Annabel was done with her second cocktail - a speed of drinking that had not been achieved since her early 20s. At some point Annabel ordered a third drink as there were still around 30 minutes left till the end of the show.

- Whereabouts are you staying? - the man from the bar asked after the show finished and his group was getting ready to leave.

- Upper West Side, just across the park.

- We can drop you off if you’d like.

- Thank you, but I will walk - Annabel had a sudden urge to walk the streets of the city.

- As you wish! Take care and good luck with your writing. - the man gave her a warm smile.

Annabel was ecstatic. The evening felt like a movie. She never felt more inspired or convinced that anything in the world was possible and within her reach.

She checked her phone and it seemed that it would only take her 25 minutes to reach home by foot if she crossed Central Park. It was quarter to midnight and she wondered if it’b be safe to walk in the park at that hour. As any good representative of her generation, she Googled whether Central Park was safe at night and got a confirmative result. It was Friday night, so she reckoned they’d be other people going home or heading out. The three cocktails gave her extra confidence so she made her way to 5th Avenue and crossing it entered the park.

It was a very cold February night and she noticed that the Conservatory Water pond had frozen. She smiled to herself as she thought of Holden Caulfield and the ducks.

Annabel was halfway through the park when she reached the Bethesda Terrace and decided to do a pitstop and spend some time there, enjoying the night view. The fountain in front caught her eye, and although it was not working in the middle of winter, she decided to go down and check it out. There was a thin layer of snow covering the basin and as she was getting near, it looked as if the snowflakes were being lifted by a golden light, beaming from underneath the fountain. She wondered if she could have gotten that drunk from three cocktails and a faint paranoid idea entered her mind. What if someone had laced her drink with LSD or other drugs? In any case, Annabel continued walking towards the fountain, as if unable to help herself. She was now standing next to it and an explicable force made her do something she’d never do under normal circumstances - put her hand in the water.

An array of scenes, similar to those she’d experience in dreams, flushed her mind. Despite this she felt very clear minded and consciously thought that she was dying and that these were scenes of her life flashing in front of her. She didn’t recognise herself in any of them but they all brought very familiar feelings.

There is a girl, maybe 16, blonde and dressed in what seemed like clothes from the early 1900s, at a gathering. She feels deeply rooted boredom and dissatisfaction as she is mingling with the crowd, talking about mundane stuff that hardly interests her.

Then another scene, a man appears. The girl is in love, she thinks he is the one, he is different from the rest. He excites her, he stimulates her mind. She loves writing to him and as she does she feels like her words are meant to be seen by the world.

Then there are fights. She starts to get disillusioned with the man, she cannot believe that she thought he was better and more talented than her. He uses some of her writing and gets all the credit and adoration from the world.

She is frustrated, she knows she has so much talent inside of her, so much to give and show to the world, but she cannot express it. She doesn’t know how.

“You have to do it this time. I’m not coming back to this goddam shit hole again!” - the woman from the scenes screams and then it all ends.

Annabel was jolted back to consciousness, feeling as if she had just woken up from a very real looking dream. She decided it was time to go home now, but walking back she was haunted by the experience at the fountain. “What just happened?” - Annabel was thinking to herself, slightly worried that she might be going mad, but mainly convinced that she experienced some sort of a magical or supernatural phenomenon.

Annabel slept like a baby that night, and woke up with an unusual feeling of pure serenity. “Ok, let me tidy up a little bit” she thought to herself as she saw the clothes from last night thrown on the floor. As she reached to pick up her pants, she noticed a business card lying on the floor next to them. “Tom Yardley, Head of Publishing, Random House”. Annabel was confused. “Where did this card come from?”, she did not remember anyone giving it to her. She called the number.

- Mm, hello, is this Tom Yardley? Annabel White calling.

- Oh hi, Annabel! How are you? Recovering from those Negronis? - she could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

- Haha yeah, I guess. - Annabel tried to sound casual.

- Great! Let’s meet up for lunch today. What do you say? I really liked that story you were telling me about, the one where the character sees through her past life and it turns out that she was Zelda Fitzgerald.

- Oh right. Right. Yeah! - Annabel was starting to put the pieces together, although it seemed there were a lot of them missing.

- I’ll text you the address. See you soon! - said the man, apparently called Tom, and hung up.

“What the hell is going on!?” Annabel was both confused but also somehow convinced that everything was happening according to plan. She opened the curtains and looked at the park. It had snowed some more last night and the leafless branches of the trees were covered in white.

Annabel felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be for the first time in her life. She just remembered, today was her birthday.