How cold the weather was in manhattan, he was feeling all of it and more. there were a few clouds. walking over the buildings. the retired sun made it lighter but not warm. in the late afternoon, he was cold. when trying to pull up his coat’s zipper by his right hand, he lost his balance. and unintentionally, he braked, but it was the front one, he realized it after falling down. he was on the one side of the bike path, his bicycle was on the other one. first time in his entire life, he fell from a bike. – he might have done before, but I don’t give a shit- “fuck it,” he said. and a look of the smile appeared on his face. he always smiled when having nothing to do like in that situation. he kept slightly smiling and thought, “damn it, now there will be some people around me to feed their human being.” then, questions. questions the answers to those questions never wanted to be heard, and listened to. “are you okay?”
“do you need help?” -what do you think, asshole!-
“let me help you.” “I am here, anything you need?” -a cigarette?-
he hadn’t stood up yet, but people began coming toward him with their curiosity. they always look around to see something different, an accident, a fight, a discussion… from the windows of buses, trains, cars… he felt that they were getting crowded. he prepared himself for those questions because his english was terrible.
“I am okay, thank you.”
“no, no, I am fine.”
“no, it’s okay.”
he was ready, but meanwhile, he was thinking of the food which was in the red delivery bag. the bag seemed okay. “is the food okay too?” he thought. “if fucking masherell properly packed it, it would be alright”
he began standing up without looking around. he didn’t feel any pain physically; he was okay too like the red delivery bag. but his soul was unknown like the food in the red delivery bag. a delivery bag exists to protect the food; a human body exists, what for? for the soul. honor. or just for work?
he took the bag, opened it, checked the food, closed it, put it in the bicycle’s basket. something was going wrong, he felt when trying to clean his black pants. he did as much as he could. something was increasingly going wrong.
he looked around, and nobody was there. nobody! there were some, but they didn’t even realize that he had fallen. they passed by him but they didn’t see him. he thought, “they might be busy.”
he grabbed his bicycle ready to go. suddenly, a question came to his mind, “did I become an invisible person?” another one followed it as a soldier, “have I always been an invisible person?” he didn’t answer them. one more soldier showed up, “am I fucking poor…” but, he slightly smiled. -I told you, he smiles when having nothing to do.” those questions so hurt at him. being an invisible person… he had to wear a vest a riding bike. it was a blue vest, had a bright white line, and a number like a car’s plate behind the vest. but all of those things didn’t help him to get rid of being an invisible person. it might; he had a helmet that was why people didn’t notice him. otherwise, why did people ignore him(!)
only a little girl saw him when he fell down. however, her mother ignored the little girl, even though, “look! mom, somebody fell down. mom!” she said. “come on honey, let’s move,” mom said as an answer by pointing the traffic lights. they passed to cross the street like other people did. he thought, “I am nobody for them,” and mumbled, “nobody…” he smiled and thought, “the tips they gave me are not enough to make me a visible person.”
he saw a delivery guy who was smoking that made him smoke. he lit a cigarette. smiled. looked at the grand avenues, and said, “nice to meet you, new york city, nice to meet you!” all the big cites always wait to introduce themselves when you need help… “I hope, one day nyc will be alone, ” he said instead of swearing at it. he always believed that the worse curse was wishing a solitary life.
he arrived at his destination. he locked his bicycle. he thought, “if there is a doorman, I will be an invisible person again.” but he was lucky there wasn’t any doorman so he became visible. that wasn’t provable, and also, that wouldn’t take so long. if the payment were made by credit card, he would see only a hand behind the door. in the beginning, the hand looks like a normal hand, but it has a mouth which always orders, a nose which can smell from two miles, eyes which look like ‘the big brother’… he wouldn’t ever be able to see whom that hand belongs to. the hand. it always wants to take never gives.
he checked the receipt. 11b. the bell rang. -it was paid by credit card- he waited for 10 seconds. 30 seconds. a minute. he rang it again.
“who is this?”
the main door was opened. he entered the building. took the elevator… here was the door. there was a note “baby is sleeping, please, don’t ring, knock on the door.” he knocked on the door. there was a hand showed up; he said, “hello!” the hand said, “hey, how are you?” grabbed the food shut the door.
he was returning to the restaurant and thinking of the food. if it was messed up… if the hand complained about the food… “fuck them!” he said. he lit a cigarette.
when going back to the restaurant, he saw a limousine. he looked at it. just black windows. he wasn’t able to see who was sitting in it but the person who was sitting in the limousine was able to see him. he thought, “it’s unfair!” and added, “and ugly!” god came to his mind for some reason, then, “even this is the feature of God, it is not fair, and it’s fucking ugly, even if god exists we should ignore him” he thought.
the red light became green. the limousine slowly went away.
Author: Yasin Ertas