Page 43 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Where the Dream Ends

Dizzy with all these past remembrances, his legs still trem-
bling from the encounter with the taxi, Harry reversed direc-
tion and went up the hill to the top of the Terrace. While the
afternoon sun warmed his back, Broadway, far below him, was
cast in cool shadows. From his aerie, he could see out over the
top of the IRT elevated train line, across the Major Deegan Ex-
pressway and Bailey Avenue, past the tops of decaying build-
ings cluttered with clotheslines, past the shattered ruins of the
Bronx, until eventually his view ended at a wall of high-rise
towers in the distance. The sun reflecting off the glass made
him squint, and he had to turn away. The distant buildings
troubled Harry, as if no matter how far he traveled, no matter
how far he could see, there would always be another wall, his
past always creeping up behind him.

He started back down the hill, passing the building adjacent
to the one where he grew up. He noticed a sign on the wall in
the courtyard that hadn’t been changed all these years. It said
“NO loitering. NO ball playing. Violators will be prosecuted.”
When Harry was six years old, he wondered what it meant
to be “prosecuted”. He knew it wasn’t a good thing, and that
violating the prohibition probably meant being expelled from
school or going to Reform School. Not that he actually knew
anyone who went to reform school (or was expelled from
grade school, for that matter). It was just a place no kid ever
wanted to go.

There were a lot of “no’s” when Harry grew up. In parks
there were signs that said “NO running”, “NO jumping”,
“NO skipping”, “NO bare feet,” “NO drinking”, “NO bicy-
cle riding”. At home there were more “no’s”: “NO reading

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