Sunday Afternoon, Lulu Shamberg

Sunday Afternoon

“She comes here often,” the man said, motioning to the older woman standing across from them. “Why?” Julia also came to get a bite in the park often, but she had never seen this lady before. No one else seemed to notice the woman, so she figured she might ask the hot dog man whose cart had been stationed in the same spot since Julia could remember. “Dunno,” the hot dog vendor walked away, but Julia couldn’t help but stare at the woman. Amidst the mélange of people that constantly strolled through Central Park, this woman’s serenity and calm juxtaposed the constant bustle of the crowd. Her outfit was pristine and well-matched. She looked as if she was going to have her portrait taken. She was staring longingly into the reservoir, her pose just perfect to be photographed. The longer Julia stared, the more she could penetrate this woman’s façade of perfection. Although her focus clearly resided into the reservoir, her eyes seemed disengaged from the rest of her body. Julia recognized this because it was something she tended to do when she dealt with pain of her own. Her face was expressionless and blanketed with wrinkles emerging from her collar and crawling up until they disappeared into her flurry of white hair. She remained extremely still except for occasionally reaching to adjust her collar to a perfect angle. Julia felt compelled to talk to the women, and without knowing why, began walking towards her. She was a few steps back when she stopped directly behind the woman. She had no idea what she was going to say to her. She seemed like she didn’t want to be bothered. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The woman said suddenly. Julia took a step backwards. How did the woman know she was there? “You know, it’s funny how people act when they think you can’t seem them.” Unsure of how to respond, Julia took another step forward. “This used to be my favorite place to come. My mom would bring me every Sunday afternoon.”

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“You’re the first person in three years who has noticed me.” The women said, turning to face Julia. “You just look so peaceful. I think people would think it cruel to interrupt.” Julia offered. “Then why did you?” The woman inquired. “I don’t know, to be honest. You looked so beautiful. Your whole image reminded me of a photograph I saw when I was little.” “Diane,” the woman said, turning to completely face Julia “Julia, pleasure.” “What you said about your mom. Why did you stop coming?” Diane inquired. “I don’t speak to her anymore. We got in a fight a while back and haven’t talked ever since.” Julia said, avoiding eye contact. She began to fumble with the house keys she had in her hand. “That’s a mistake!” The woman exclaimed suddenly. “Don’t forsake the time you have with your mother. It’s precious.” Julia didn’t know how to respond. Why did this woman care so much? “Look, I know its probably not my business. I obviously know nothing about what happened to you or your mom. But let me tell you from a mother’s perspective, I loved my daughter every minute of every day. I know it’s hard to believe, but I still loved her when we fought.” Dianne remarked wistfully. “Yes, I know. She said that all the time. Things just got really complicated and it was just easier to stop fighting and stop talking all together.” Julia replied. “Again, I know it’s really not my place... my daughter and I fought a lot too. Sometimes it was so bad we would go without speaking for months, but I would give anything for my Josie. A few weeks before her accident, we had a huge falling out and I never got the chance to tell her that. Now it’s too late.” Dianne’s voice had conviction in it, but was beginning to be muddled

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by tears. “This was her favorite place. That’s why I come here, you know? I try and find solace. I try to forgive myself, but I can’t.” The two women fell silent. They spoke without words. It was the first time in ages that Julia had thought about her mom. She suddenly realized how much she missed her. Dianne looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off her chest, and a vibrancy returned to her eyes. Both women fell still and stared into the reservoir, finding comfort in each other’s quiet.

Lulu Shamberg ’14

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