CHAPTER 7
1544 Words
One Voice, Two Cities and the Twist of Fate
The aroma of hot pretzels and roasted peanuts from street vendors permeated the August air in New York. The hum of cars filled the distance, and children's laughing echoed down the street.
Bruno sat on his flat doorstep, leaning against his legs and holding his mother's guitar, Gloria. His fingers did not strum; instead, they floated over the strings. Silence pressed in tonight, yet music usually provided him with answers.
Something felt odd. Change was coming.
Then he saw her— Catherina.
She strolled towards him, the sun glinting off her hair, but her usual smile was gone. She hugged a white gift tightly to her chest. Bruno's heart tightened. He knew exactly what it was.
"Bruno," she murmured as she paused in front of him. Just his name, but it evoked both pride and dread.
He stood slowly, his gaze fixed on the envelope. "Is that…?" Bruno stuttered, attempting to finish his question.
Without saying anything, she handed it over. His attention settled on the big seal at the top: Harvard University.
Her voice shook, but her eyes gleamed. "I got into Law. Full scholarship”, Catherina said with a little excitement.
Bruno's chest twisted. He wanted to smile and shout with joy for her. This was everything she'd worked for. But Harvard wasn't New York. It was Cambridge, Massachusetts. A world away.
"That's incredible, Cat," he remarked finally, forcing a smile. "I knew you'd do it."
She clutched the envelope tightly. "I leave this Friday." She said.
Friday. Four days. The words passed through him. The street hubbub around them faded into silence.
Catherina drew closer, her fingers trembling as they touched his.
"Promise me, Bruno. This will not be the end. We will call and SMS every day. Distance does not imply goodbye," she said.
He studied her face, the girl who had supported him through laughter, suffering, and healing. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to think that commitments could be maintained over long distances.
"I promise," Bruno said quietly, clutching her hand tight. "Each day. No matter where you are."
Her lips shook and formed a courageous smile. "Then nothing can break us." She said.
They sat on the steps as the sun faded into orange and pink streaks over the city sky. Neither spoke. Words appeared too feeble. Bruno's gaze lingered on the envelope, which read Harvard Law, Friday. Each phrase rang deep within his chest.
"Do you remember," she continued suddenly, "when you told me you'd play at my graduation?"
Bruno chuckled, but his discomfort was severe. "And I said I'd write you a song no one could ever forget."
Her glance softened. "You still owe me that, Sanchez." She said.
After she departed, Bruno sat in his dimly lit room, Gloria on his lap. Outside, New York crowded, but inside, there was just silence. Slowly, his fingers detected tentative chords. A melody developed, weak but full of her wit, bravery, perseverance, and passion.
It wasn't a song yet. Just fragments. He knew there would be more. It had to be. When she went, this music would act as a link between New York and Massachusetts, as well as between him and her.
Bruno whispered into the silence, as if she could hear him from a distance.
"This one's for you, Cat." He said.
And with that, the first musical notes of their forever, though apart began.
The city never sleeps, and Bruno was no exception tonight.
It was his third day of waiting. Three long, empty days had gone since Catherina boarded the train for Boston, Massachusetts, promising with teary eyes that nothing could separate them. They had agreed to phone, text, and send letters if required. But so far, his phone had remained silent.
"Maybe she's still settling in," Bruno whispered to himself as he strolled down Lexington Avenue, gripping his phone in one hand.
The brisk autumn air swept through the streets, shaking the leaves on the pavement. He stared at the blank screen, hoping it would light up with her name— Cat.
And then, in an instant, it was gone.
A hand brushed by him as fast as a shadow. The weight in his palm disappeared. Bruno turned around.
“Hey!” he shouted.
The thief was already bursting through the crowd, weaving between stunned onlookers and clutching Bruno's phone.
Adrenaline surged. Bruno pursued, his sneakers hitting on the concrete. He pushed past people, ignoring obscenities and angry cries, his attention fixated on the pickpocket's dark jacket.
For a brief period, it appeared that he may catch him - but at the corner, the thief slipped into an alley, and by the time Bruno turned, the man was vanished.
"Damn it!" Bruno yelled as his chest heaved. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his mind raced. "Not the telephone. Not now. Not when it has her number."
Hours passed, and he became increasingly frustrated. He returned home, shattered and damning himself. That phone was not just a phone. It was her lifeline—the only place he could hear her voice and get her phone number.
But fate hadn't finished twisting the knife.
Bruno froze the next evening while shopping for groceries at a nearby store. In the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face. The thief.
His heart pounded. He dropped the bread in his hand and stepped forward, grabbing the man's arm.
"You!" Bruno yelled. "Is my phone somewhere?" He asked.
The thief, startled and cornered, stammered. “I… I don’t have it anymore.” He said.
Bruno slammed him against the shelf as he posed the question.
“Who did you sell it to?”. He asked.
The man's eyes blazed with fear. “At a phone store on Third Street. I promise you that's all. I've already sold it”. He replied.
Bruno released him, disgusted. “If you’re lying, I’ll find you.” He said.
The thief escaped, leaving Bruno furious. Bruno sprinted through the streets, his breath clouding the chilly night air, till he reached the small phone shop.
The bell rung as he opened the glass door. Rows of refurbished phones lined the counters, with a faint odor of solder and plastic in the air. Behind the desk sat a tired-looking man with glasses perched on his nose.
"I need my phone," Bruno stated sternly. "It was stolen and then sold here. A black case with a cracked bottom corner. Where is it?" he asked.
The shopkeeper blinked slowly, adjusting his glasses. "We receive dozens of phones every day. Which one?" The shopkeeper inquired.
Bruno banged his palms against the countertop. "That one had everything. My life was in it. Where is it?" He asked aggressively again.
The shopkeeper leaned back and raised his hands. "Okay, alright. Calm down, youngster. I think I recall. That pickpocket entered yesterday morning. We repaired the phone and sold it already. Guy did not waste time." He said.
The words hit Bruno like a blow in the gut.
"Sold?" His voice crackled. "To who?" . He asked.
The man shrugged. "I can't tell you. Some walk-ins. He paid in cash. No names, no receipts." The shopkeeper spoke.
Bruno's stomach dropped. He felt air leave his lungs, and his knees weakened. His phone was gone. It's not just stolen or misplaced; it's gone. Alongside the only copy of Catherina's phone number.
He stumbled back from the counter, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. That number… I’m the only one who has it. She doesn’t know mine. I’m the only link.” Bruno said almost crying.
The shopkeeper let out a sigh, but his expression remained neutral. "Then you ought to have backed it up”, he said.
Bruno wanted to scream. He wanted to smash every phone in the shop and travel back in time by one day. Instead, he turned and limped into the cold night.
The streets blurred. The bright lights, automobile horns, and strangers' conversations felt remote. Inside, an empty depth consumed him whole.
Catherina was gone. Not out of choice or quiet, but due to a crueler twist of fate than anything else. She was out there in Boston, waiting for his call, waiting for him to honor his end of the bargain, and he had no way of reaching her.
Nobody else had her number. No one except him, and she obtained a new SIM card before leaving for college.
Bruno sank on a bench, burying his face in his hands. The vow they had made: "Every day. No matter what," echoed in his ears like a ghost.
And for the first time in years, Bruno Sanchez felt absolutely useless.
When Bruno learned that he and Catherina would be off on separate adventures, his eyes widened. He would pursue his musical abilities at the Juilliard School in New York, while Catherina would immerse herself in the challenging legal program at Harvard University in Massachusetts. As their daily lives grow more and more consumed by their scholarly and artistic pursuits, the roughly 200-mile distance between Cambridge and Manhattan seemed to go well beyond simple distances.
And so their journeys would continue, two paths running alongside yet worlds apart.
- Writer
