Marc- A Life Remembered

After drinking coffee and brainstorming something to do in this town, Laurel and I decided to go for a walk in the troubled haven of New City, NY.

We had just finished off our Starbucks and had nothing to do. Later that night, we ended up showing up to Dunkin’ Donuts, before getting dirty looks from a former classmate and feeling forced to leave. Other highlights included trying to find a restaurant that was still open, so Laurel could pee, and eating Wendy’s French fries.

As we were walking, I some voice calling my name.

“Sara Fruman! Sara Fruman!”

Shoot. Who knows me?

True, I did grow up in this town and was well-known in high school, though I don’t think that was a good thing.

Still I was shocked that someone was calling my name. Everyone has seemed to be out of the country, at school, or avoiding each other.

The car pulls into a parking lot, adjacent to “The Clubhouse,” a New City bar, which I’ve never been inside of given that I still have about six months to go until my 21st birthday.

Marc greets me. He is an old friend of mine from Hebrew School, and I’ve known him since elementary school. He is kind and excited to see me. His arms wrap around me, giving me a friendly hug. This summer, he might be the only not awkward encounter I’ve had with someone I haven’t spoken to in a while.  He is a bit tipsy and offers me a ride, which I turn down. We were walking to walk, not to get somewhere.

Marc’s genuine excitement to see me makes me brings a full smile to my face. When I juxtapose his friendly nature to an old classmate hiding his face to avoid us at Dunkin’ later that night, the difference is similar to getting a hug and then getting slapped in the face.

I’m not sure why I saw Marc that day; I hadn’t seen him for years, but I’m certain there was a reason.

I’ll never understand why the warmth of life slips through some faster than others, but I’m certain I’ll always remember Marc by my last encounter with him.