Three O’clock in the afternoon, I scuffed my feet along the cold cement trailing a good three yards behind my parents and my twin. I pictured how many people’s footprints mine were replacing, and how many more would replace mine. The San Franciscan rain misted across my face and arms, leaving trails of goose bumps in their wake. I pulled on the jacket that I brought with me, it reminded me of you. The people behind and beside me whisked past me in a fit of discontent with my seemingly slow pace. Nevertheless, I continued my journey down to the Fisherman’s Wharf.
I passed on by, block by block with no one beside me. Well, of course there were people beside me, this is San Francisco we’re talking about here, but with no one beside me. As I passed the Nob Hill Motor Inn I noticed a lonely seagull picking at twigs and dropping them back down to the ground. I liked to imagine that he was looking for one of his fellow companions that he lost. But I knew he was looking for what scarce food he could find. He reminded me of the man sitting next to him. The man was up against a brick building with his body caving in on itself. Next to his head, I read the words, “There is no God,” written in black ink. But the way he held his head toward the sky contradicted that very phrase. His scraggly, white beard and skeleton with skin wrapping paper made me assume that this man was homeless. I made up a story about this man, and I named him Nemo. I once read that nemo meant “no one” in Latin. Anyway, I made myself believe that he was waiting for his lover that he left to go fight in the war. Before he left he would whisper in her ear, telling her, “Wait for me here, on the corner by the bank and Laundromat. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
“I believe you,” she would say. But she never really believed it. She didn’t think he had the strength to survive; she didn’t think she had the strength to survive either. So now he sits at the corner by the bank and Laundromat, waiting for his lover to return to him.
I smiled as I passed by the man, but all I got in return was a glare. I kept on walking, but turned around once and saw a smile on his face as he turned his neck to look up to the sky. I turned my head forward and looked up to see the same sky he was seeing. I saw the hope in the gray cloud cover above. A certain glimmer as the rain came down made me feel like anything could happen. I saw the same hope the man did. I hoped that mine would someday, too, return to me, just as Nemo’s lover would.
As the sparkling gray concrete lured me further down, closer to the wharf, I passed a man with hair down to his shoulders. You had just gotten your hair cut, so he reminded me of you. He must have been an old burnout because he kept muttering things like, “Lucy, Lucy, the sky is filled with diamonds! Where are you?” anything along those lines. I didn’t need to make up a story about him, his was already uncovered. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, which also reminded me of you in that sense as well. He was still trying to “spread the love,” forty years past its expiration date. It’s a good thought.
The light misting on my forehead and arms turned into a heavy pelting to the top of my head and shoulders, it was just terrific. My naturally frizzy hair looked smashed down while being electrocuted at the same time, if you can imagine. Maybe not, you have to see it to believe that something can actually look that ridiculous. People have always told me that we have the same type of hair. I scoffed at them. The thought of us two walking side by side right now was just too unthinkable.
I walked through a parking lot balancing on my toes, trying hard not to get my whole foot drenched in the mucky puddles. They had swirling colors of purple, green, yellow, and blue. It was hard for me not to stop and look at them for just a second longer. But, the fact that I was already almost ten paces behind the rest of my group, I couldn’t afford another. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen those beautiful iridescent puddles before, it was just that the first time I ever really talked to you, we were standing next to one of them. It was nine thirty at night and we just came out of some ridiculous looking building with colorful rooms and oddly shaped furniture. You were telling me how I should take off my shoes and put them inside the room to add to the colorful décor. “There are so many colors, I can’t stop staring at them. Just take them off and put them next to the door.” So I did. I walked around barefoot in the freezing cold rain.
“How come I have to walk around barefoot in the cold and you don’t?” I complained. You always put up with my irritating habits. But you took off his shoes anyways and lined them up next to mine in the door way. You were always so compliant with me. I couldn’t help but notice how much bigger your shoes were than mine. I felt like if I slipped my feet into your shoes, my feet would actually disappear and I would be stuck in them forever. I may have secretly wanted that.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked , almost as if you felt like you needed to, not because you were genuinely interested in what was going on in my mind.
“The oil rainbows in the puddles,” I explained as my eyes darted around for anything to possibly place in my mind specifically for your question. “Based on what they actually are, you wouldn’t think they were pretty. Oddly, they mesmerize me.” You laughed. You never did take me seriously.
The Fisherman’s Wharf was surprisingly crowded on account of it was raining pretty hard by then. Just as I took a step onto the wooden planks, I was slapped in the face by an excruciatingly awful smell. I looked around with my eyes squinting and my nose scrunched up. I could only imagine that I stepped in a pile of fish heads, or strolled past a giant landfill. I realized what the stench actually was when I heard a distant barking in the background. It was sea lions. I walked over to pier forty-nine and stepped onto it. There was a crowd of onlookers, laughing, amused at the way two sea lions fought for the middle platform floating in the wharf. The one with the longest and thickest whiskers always seemed to be able to push even the strongest of challengers off. It reminded me of people, always wanting what they can’t have. They risk what they do have for the highest authority position they can find. I was never like that. That’s why you and I never got along. You were never happy with what you had. You always needed better.
I saw one lonely seal laying on the edge of the far left platform. He looked like he could fall off if he made one single movement. He was alone, on the brink of falling over the edge. He looked curiously at the water, almost as if he were actually considering deliberately falling off. I saw your face in his melancholy expression. I named him after you.
