It’s close to midnight and Luis is getting off the uptown 2 at the stop he’s called home for a little over a year. It’s not the first time he’s getting home in this condition. Frazzled, devastated, angry. It won’t be the last. But tonight will be different. On this night, somebody will become art.
Luis only has to make it 2 blocks in the snow, then he can breakdown, breakdown to cheap wine and his “Mariah Emotions” playlist till he cries himself to sleep. The music won’t be a catalyst, he already has it: Being dumped in front of a dollar store. How humiliating. How so not deserving of him. At least make it a CVS!
Down the broken escalator he decides a binge is justified so he stops for Doritos and cookies and Coke Zero and M&Mss and god knows what other junk. He gets himself together, ready to convince his overtly friendly bodega guy that he’s not crying, it’s just the cold! It’s just freezing, right?!
With the supplies for a binge on hand, out of the sight of familiar faces and into the snow, Luis became frazzled, devastated, angry. He remembered his friends smirk saying, “Carlos sounded a lot like you in class today.” “That was a sign. I didn’t see it, I’m an idiot," he utters to himself.
Luis had broken his commitment to secrecy and decided to date a fellow student at his grad school program. They were the it couple. Two short hispanics, what’s cuter than that? One was really nice, the other was assertive, rude almost. One was flirty, Cuban. The other was possessive, Puerto Rican. One was thirsty for success and admiration, the other famished for love and affection.
On the walk home, Luis was about to understand why it had worked until it didn’t: Carlos only came over Mondays and Wednesdays. They had classes Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“Oh my god!”
Having realized a little too late that his ex fucked him in exchange for ideas, arguments for essays, discussions to be had in class. They’re about to graduate, the reason for the breakup.
Luis couldn’t hold it in anymore, the tears begin as the snow falls. “Steady, steady,” he whispers to himself but then the sadness turns into fear. He senses someone starring at him. Knowing better than to look back to confirm, he just walks faster. But that’s not it.
Then he sees it. There is a man. On the street. Laying on the pavement. Luis stops and pinches himself.
Yes, Luis, this is really happening.
“Is this really happening?”
Yes, Luis. It is really happening.
A speeding car passes by, seemingly running over the man and Luis screams as he rushes to the man.
Luis kneels and asks for his name.
“THIS IS ART. THE WORLD SUCKS. I AM ART.”
“Yeah, so am fucking I,” Luis responds.
They go back and forth. Well, actually, just forth because the man is only repeating three sentences. Luis tells him,
“Dude, you need to get up cuz a car is going to kill me and then you and that’s not worth it cuz I’m pretty and smart and you’re skinny! So get up!!!.” But the man continues to shout he is art.
Luis has little energy left to plead with this man, he’d spent it most of it in front of a dollar store begging to be loved. What to do, Luis wonders for a mini second and decides to dial 9-1-1. With the operator on the line, not one to give up, Luis tries one last time:
“Dude, the ambulance is going to come and they’re gonna put you in a psych hospital. Is that really what you want?”
“I AM ART.”
Luis is no longer frazzled, devastated, angry. Instead, he is confused, shocked, dismayed. He stands by the man and waits for the ambulance to show up. As the sirens and the lights come into view, Luis steps away, fearful of engaging with the police and having to explain how he got involved. But first he takes a picture of the man on the pavement, knowing no one would believe that this actually happened. Needing to document their existence.
No longer feeling the urge to cry, binge, release more pain, Luis makes it home and stands in front of his door, thinking about the man and what or who could’ve hurt him that much that he’d just lay down for a car to run him over? He felt contempt for his life and what he was frazzled, devastated, angry about: being dumped in front of a dollar store weeks before graduation.
So Luis goes on his Facebook and writes about it. He writes about the breakup. He writes about the man. He seeks to understand why he gets to overcome and others don’t. He includes the picture and posts it for an audience of one: me.
Luis doesn’t know he saved somebody’s life. Luis wouldn’t even remember that this happened until I, and now you reading this story, allowed this despondent man to become art.
YES👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 incredible. So well written and so captivating. I love it.