Luna and the city of shadows

"Whatever our path may be, we will find ourselves in the place where

we are meant to be."

Roksolana Lebid

Chapter 1

I slowly opened my eyes; my panting breath echoed in my ears. I found myself lying on an unfamiliar bed, enveloped in a fog that shrouded my thoughts. A throbbing pain hammered against my temples, making every idea confusing and blurred. I looked around frantically, desperately searching for something familiar, but all that surrounded me was strange. I tried to piece together the events of the previous evening, hoping that some memory would resurface from my foggy mind. I remembered meeting Anna, my best friend for nearly a decade. Tall, with raven-black hair and deep brown eyes, Anna had a way of thinking and acting like a girl despite being a year older than me. Her parents had tragically died in a car accident when she was only 11, and since then she had lived with her aunt until, at 20, she decided to try her luck in New York. We met at the restaurant where we both worked as waitresses. One day, I needed to talk to someone and asked her to take a walk with me. Despite our differences, there had been a special connection between us from the very beginning. Anna, who generally found it hard to befriend people with light-colored eyes, seemed to have made an exception for me. It was easy to confide in her; she listened and supported me as best as she could. However, at that moment, I couldn’t remember where I had left my phone and bag. Overcoming my fear, I slowly turned to see if anyone was beside me. When I realized I was alone, I felt a great sense of relief. I cautiously got up, looking around in confusion. Only then I did  realize that I was not wearing anything. Everything around me was unfamiliar, and I couldn’t recall how I had ended up in that place. Trying to stay calm, I began to explore my surroundings. The room was anonymous, devoid of any familiar elements that could give me a clue as to where I was. Looking around, I found neither my cell phone nor my purse. A sense of disorientation and anguish struck me. My memories were shrouded in a thick fog, with no tangible trace of the recent past. I realized I had to face this situation with caution and clarity in order to try to understand what had happened. I looked around and understood that it was a hotel; the room contained only a bed with white sheets and a comforter, a minibar that was empty, and a small 32-inch TV mounted on the wall. Carefully examining the room, I couldn’t understand where my shoes might have gone. Their absence left me even more confused; I couldn’t explain how I had ended up there without them. I looked at my feet to see if they were dirty, wondering if I had walked barefoot because my heels had hurt. No, they were clean and didn’t hurt, so I assumed I hadn’t walked much. Curiously, I approached the window to take a look outside. When I laid my eyes on the view, I was amazed: I could see Central Park and the iconic Empire State Building, unmistakable signs that I was in New York, probably on 56th-57th Street. I needed water and maybe even more, a coffee. I went to the bathroom, drinking from the tap; strangely, it was so good, or maybe I was just really thirsty. I found a coffee machine and two capsules, one was decaffeinated. I made both, and the aroma of the coffee filled the entire room. After the first sip, I burned my tongue; I could no longer enjoy it.

As I sat on the bed, I tried to remember what had happened. I recalled that at 8 PM we had gathered for dinner at Butter, about ten blocks from here. I remember the first French Martini cocktail quite well. That day, I had enjoyed a delicious plate of pesto pasta accompanied by a salmon tartare. Anna, on the other hand, opted for some meat and had a classic Manhattan cocktail. Laughing together, we were busy deciding where to go next. We headed to the bathroom, where we had fun being silly in front of the mirror, taking some photos and recording a few videos. If only I could find my phone, maybe some pictures could refresh my memory. Later, we returned to the table, and I can't recall how I ended up finishing that cocktail... It can't be that just one cocktail caused my memory loss.

I decided to take a look under the bed and, surprisingly, there they were: my purse and my black sandals. It’s always reassuring when I manage to find the items I thought I had lost. This little moment of relief made me feel more organized and in control of the current situation. Opening the bag, I found my wallet, cash, and cards. I hadn’t spent anything; who paid for dinner? Maybe Anna? The phone still had 28 percent battery left. 114 missed calls and 38 messages, all from Anna. So, it wasn’t her who brought me here. I started to read them:

'Answer, Luna, where are you?

Luna, respond!

Did you go home?

Is everything okay?

What happened?

Who did you leave with?

Why aren’t you answering?

Just tell me if you’re alright?

Luna!!!!

I’m going home; I don’t know where to look for you. Call me when you can?'

I decided to call her, and after just one ring, she answered: 'Luna, what happened? Why didn’t you contact me? You disappeared, and I had the impression you left with Lucas. I hope I’m wrong.' I couldn’t utter a word. Lucas is back? I had sworn to never even look in his direction again after what he had done.

Anna, I'm sorry... I don’t know what happened, I don’t remember anything, I don’t remember going away with him. I’m at a hotel alone. I really don’t remember anything. I’m going home now; can we meet? Can you come to my place?

Yes, that’s fine, I’ll see you there. I couldn’t believe what had happened, Lucas. I wondered if it had really been him who brought me here and if we had spent the night together. Why hadn’t he taken me back to his place? Maybe he lived with someone else. I didn’t know what to think; I was even more confused than before. Lucas was the other half that completed my heart, or at least that’s what I believed. He had always been present in all my relationships. After every story ended, I always went back to him, unable to say no. I had met him right after I arrived in New York when I was only 18. It was a rainy day in May, and I was sitting in a café, lost in my thoughts, watching the rain fall. I hadn’t noticed that a boy, sitting at a table in the corner, he was working on his laptop and glancing at me from time to time, perhaps wondering what I was thinking so intensely. He came over, sat down next to me, and started looking out with the same expression I believe I was. Then I heard his voice: I come here almost every day, yet I’ve never seen anyone with this look of joy and wonder. What is it that you see that escapes me? What fascinates you so much that I can’t perceive?

I was undecided about what to say; I didn’t feel very skilled at communicating. My thoughts appeared so well-structured in my mind, but when I tried to express them, the words seemed to get lost along the way. It was as if a thin barrier stood between what I thought and what I could actually say. Despite the clarity of my reflections, translating them into a fluid and concise speech proved difficult for me. I hesitated to respond, but I wanted to say something to this smiling boy with forest-green eyes. They say only two percent of people on the planet have that color.

I like the rain, but I’m actually not here. I’m in my imaginary world.

He looked at me with a questioning gaze, then said, So tell me where you are? That way, I can keep you company.

I don’t know what it was, but from that moment I understood he would be part of my life, whether for a long time or not, I was sure he would leave a mark. He was five years older than me; his father was Irish and his mother Italian. So, he knew a little Italian but couldn’t really speak it. I still struggled to speak in English; sometimes I used Italian, and he understood me and responded. He was almost 6’1 tall while I was 5’6. He had black curly hair, while mine was light, wavy, and long. Our relationship was like an emotional seesaw. We shared three years together, during which I experienced the entire range of feelings: love that seemed like a fairytale, drama that brought tears, and burning passion. With him, I could never predict what would happen: we could spend a wonderful evening together, only to find myself, shortly after, in tears. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he would send me a message saying he needed to be alone. It was a relationship full of ups and downs, never finding true stability. A continuous coming together and pulling apart, which eventually wore me down and disappointed me. How many times did I tell myself it was enough, only to return to him without hesitation at every message or call. It was like a hurricane, and I let myself be swept away without fear of drowning. The last time I heard from him was two years ago. He called to tell me he was moving to Spain with his girlfriend. Just a couple of months before that, however, he had confessed he wanted to have a child with me. Since then, I haven’t heard from him until today.

Dressed, I took a deep breath and moved closer to the door, opening it slowly, my heart was racing wildly. When the door swung open, I found Lucas standing in front of me, a bright smile on his face and two steaming cups of cappuccino in hand. He had changed; his hair was shorter on the sides, but the top was still curly and unruly. He wore light jeans, a white shirt, and a dark blue jacket—a stylish and polished look. I stood frozen, speechless, my knees trembling, and felt a lump in my throat. Inside, the insecure and frightened girl I once was resurfaced. Despite the time that had passed, it seemed I hadn't changed at all. Once again, I found myself facing that gaze that unsettled me so much, those emotions I thought I had overcome. But he stood there, with his reassuring smile and gentle gestures. Maybe this time I would find the strength to move beyond my old fears and insecurities. Perhaps this unexpected meeting was the opportunity to start over, to give a new chance to what once seemed destined to fail. Those thoughts felt like the musings of a teenager.

Hi, Luna. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well? he said, smiling. 

I’m heading home; what are you doing here? I replied, bored. 

You’re running away without even knowing what happened? Aren’t you curious? he asked, with a mischievous look. 

I couldn’t admit it, but my curiosity was undeniable. When I saw him, it felt like I was melting, like snow on the palm of my hand. He looked so handsome while I felt uncomfortable, with messy hair, smudged makeup, and my gaze lowered in shame for what I had done—or hadn’t done. 

I have to meet Anna; she’s waiting for me. So how did I end up here? I said, trying to sound indifferent. 

But aren’t you going to tell me how I look, or welcome me back? Aren’t you happy to see me? he said, stepping closer. 

As I said, I don’t have much time. Let’s avoid these games, I replied coldly. 

Yesterday, though, you were up for playing… he smiled.

I had turned red; I didn’t know what he was referring to. It killed me that I remembered nothing. What would I have done? Was I drunk? Was I on drugs? What?

Listen, I'm sorry for whatever I did. I don’t remember anything; please tell me what happened, I said, embarrassed.

You need to be more careful. I saw you yesterday when you came with Anna. I was there too, but you didn’t see me. I missed you; I wanted to watch you for a bit. But I wasn’t the only one; there was a table behind you. When you all left, one of the guys came over and put something in your cocktail, he replied seriously. Without letting him finish, I exclaimed, How could you do this to me? You didn’t say anything? You just stood by and watched? I could have died; who knows what they put in me?

Calm down, it’s not the first time I’ve seen guys do this. It’s a light drug, and it’s just meant to make you more agreeable, he replied, bored.

And you think that’s normal? You’re sick; I’m leaving, I said, heading toward the elevator.

Wait, come on. I saw you weren’t feeling well. When Anna left, I came over because I saw those guys were about to approach you. I took you away, you couldn't say anything, I didn't know if you were still living in that apartment, so I booked the closest hotel and brought you here. He replied, trying to calm me down.

How did you bring me here?

With Laura, I was with her at the restaurant. He answered, looking away from me. Are they still together? I wonder why they returned from Spain? Did he say 'home'? Do they have a house here now? Laura worked as a bartender in a bar we often went to. We met and became friends, going out together frequently. One day, I went to surprise Lucas at his house, and I saw them hugging, like a couple that had been together for a long time. I didn’t approach them; I didn’t want to create a scandal. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t; I was just an insecure girl who would have started crying without being able to say a word. And that’s exactly what happened; tears streamed down my face under the gazes of people passing by. It took me a while to recover; I couldn’t understand why, what I had done or not done. I felt lost and confused in front of this unexpected situation. I had put up a wall between me and him; I never spoke to him again, trying to avoid him in every way possible. I only sent him a message saying that I saw him with Laura and that it was over. We found ourselves at the door, moments together appearing like flashbacks. I wanted to seem more mature, looking him in the eyes, I took my cappuccino and walked toward the elevator without turning around. I wished I could hug him, tell him that I missed him, I wanted to stay there and talk.

See you around, Luna, he shouted after me. I didn’t respond. The elevator doors closed and a wave of emotions overwhelmed me. I lost control, stumbling and spilling a bit of my cappuccino. I felt breathless, as if the air around me had thinned. The elevator stopped, and two other people got on, but I was paralyzed, unable to react to their puzzled looks. In that moment of complete vulnerability, my body and mind seemed to have taken different paths. When I got to the ground floor, I was determined to walk out with my head held high, just in case he was watching me from the window. The morning was pleasant; it was just seven o’clock on a Sunday. Everything was calm, with few people around. I wanted to walk, but it was 31 blocks to cover. So, without even realizing it, I walked for 42 minutes in four inch heels. I felt like the only person on an island of nearly 2 million inhabitants. There was no noise, only the ghosts of my past awakening old memories.

Chapter 2

I returned to my small apartment in Chelsea; unfortunately, the elevator was still out of order. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling a twinge in my feet. I reached into my bag and took out my keys. I saw the ladybug keychain that Lucas had given me during our first date. I kept it like a trophy, a little connection to him. I opened the door and crossed the threshold. My little apartment was tiny and somewhat outdated, but I found it cozy. Entering on the left, there was a small hazelnut-colored kitchen, with an old white refrigerator, a sink, a stove that I never used, and a little corner for placing letters and keys. I rarely cooked; I preferred to order food. On the right, there was the bathroom with the bathtub that I used often: although small, the white tiles made it feel more spacious. The apartment was bright thanks to the four windows, one of which was in the bathroom. My queen bed was nestled against the wall and the window on the left, with white sheets and a light beige blanket. The furniture was all white, enhanced by green plants and neutral boho-style colors. I didn’t have a television, but there was a whole wall filled with used books, each with its own story to tell, marked by underlines and notes from previous owners. In the right corner was my rocking chair, with a small table for setting down books, tea, or a glass of wine. On the windows, white tulle curtains and a few strings of fairy lights. Candles here and there, because I loved the soft light. I heard the doorbell ring; it was Anna with two cappuccinos and two almond croissants, my favorites. She walked in and didn’t say a word, then turned and asked, Did you sleep with him or not?

What is this, an interrogation? What difference does it make? I replied, not really knowing the answer.

So, yes or no? she asked with a judgmental look.

No, he took me to a hotel with Laura, I answered, turning my back to her. Anna started to laugh and then continued, That Laura who pretended to be your friend and then slept with your boyfriend? she asked with disdain.

It's been over three years; I don’t care and I don’t think about it, I replied.

Hmm, you know, I’ve heard something similar before. I already know how this is going to end. So, is he back? she asked, searching for an answer with her eyes.

It seems so; we haven’t talked much, I responded, feeling disappointed.

What's happened to you, and where have you disappeared to? she asked, raising her voice. I told her everything I knew, or at least what Lucas had told me. We had breakfast, and I went to take a shower while Anna headed off to work. She was an intensive care nurse at NYU Langone Hospital. She was good at what she did, loved her job, but we didn’t talk much because just the word 'blood' made me nauseous.

I approached the mirror, my reflected face revealing signs of fatigue; the wrinkles seemed to have deepened. The figure in the mirror looked at least five years older than how I remembered myself. Time rushes by, leaving us perplexed, unable to process the change. Perhaps in the reflection of my mind, I was still 20, but the mirror was confirming I was soon to be 28. I couldn’t remember what had happened in these years, as if time had fast-forwarded with a click. At twenty, I had moved from Brooklyn to Manhattan, into this small apartment. Here, every day felt like a party: after work, we’d go to the bar, and on