maizempub9396554 in

    Cadillac Center

    She asked me to open my eyes, and there it was, the small library on Library Street downtown, where we first met. We were standing on the platform of the People Mover station, looking down as the train moved on. I wanted to feel something, anything, but all I could think was, really?

    Do you remember what you said? Do you remember what we promised?

    I didn’t. But I didn’t have to say it.

    Bobby...I’m trying...

     And she was. But it didn’t matter. It hadn’t for a long time.

     Why are you doing this?

    Because I wanted you to remember, to remember what we had! What’s still here!

    She was shaking, and I felt sorry for her, but somehow words came out that I knew would hurt her even more.

    You know what I remember? I remember the hip hop club we went to that first weekend, right over there across the street, but now it’s a parking lot. I remember us walking past the old Hudson’s Building, talking about what we’d do with it if we had the money, but now it’s just an empty space. And now, across the street from it is a nice new Compuware building, for new people and new business and...I just wish you’d move on to something new too.

    I can’t do that, she said. It’s not right. And you’re not being right!

    And that’s when it happened.

    Looking at her, desperate for me to change my mind, bringing me back to a place that we hadn’t revisited for over a decade, I felt it. That distant memory of a relationship that had experienced more ups and downs than made any sense. The feeling that was there before the exhaustion kicked in. Long before the voicemail came that she listened to out of paranoia and proved worse than either of our fears. Back then, I didn’t let her come with me because to be honest, we were through long before the message came and I had the meeting. An ugly, short meeting, that I also don’t remember past the word


    I didn’t want her to stay with me out of pity or guilt. I guess, in some pitiful way, I still loved her.

    Baby, nothing here is the same.

    I walked down the stairs and left her on the platform, crying.

    ­—Cornelius Harris