“Carmen!” Alex yells, hugging his knees while sitting on the concrete steps. “We’re getting rained on! Carmen! Do something!” A gust of wind nearly bowls Alex over and Kierk comes out of a nearby alley zipping up his pants. The city inhales and exhales in great whooping winds. Kierk watches a trash barrel go clattering down the sidewalk, a sight he finds inexpressibly beautiful. Leon stands by the curb, a solid statue of drunkenness.

Carmen, giggling in the street, her shirt clinging in the wind, hails down another cab. Atif has been standing in the same spot looking skyward, and now he turns to get in the cab with them but the other four are already piling in.

“Whoever is going north or northeast!” It is unclear to any of them, even the speaker, who says this.

Leon is in the front seat and Kierk, Carmen, and Alex have all piled into the back.

“No room?” Atif calls from outside.

“Hey driver, room for one more?” Carmen says, leaning forward. The driver shakes his head, so Carmen scoots up on Kierk’s lap—“Come on, I’ll sit on a lap, pleeaaasse.” The driver shakes his head again, so Carmen leans out the window.

“I’m sorry!”

“No, no, it’s not going to be a problem,” Atif says, before he waves to everyone, then moves off into the storm, a tall stumbling hood of rain.

The interior of the cab spins like a washing machine. Kierk rubs his eyes. The three of them sit with knees brushing in the back seat of the cab, watching the lights blur by, driving past reaching trees. Kierk runs his hands through his hair and realizes he is far drunker than he thought—those trees really look like they’re reaching out toward the cab to grab it. He rolls his window down so it all becomes summer air. Droplets of rain spurt in and Carmen reaches over him and splays her hands out to catch them.

Then her hands go to his face—“I didn’t want to say anything but I noticed this.” Hands at a tender place above his eye, cold and wet fingers, small, against heat. “How? Why?”

The cabdriver tells them to roll up the window.

Kierk suddenly knocks on the cabbie window from the back and leans forward under the gaze of Carmen and Alex and the driver. Kierk smiles a half-smile, a wry smile he smiles when he knows he is being charming as fuck.

“Hey buddy, you know the ducks here in Central Park. I was wondering if you knew just where those damn ducks go in a storm like this?”

There is a pause.

“Kierk, that’s not Central Park.”

SATURDAY