Suna had been running along the piers on the west side, not far from Chelsea. She was out of breath and even though this was a pleasant summer August day she was hot. She was meeting Hana later at the Chelsea Square Restaurant on 9th Avenue and 23rd Street. The restaurant had been there for what seemed forever, a throwback to the earlier days and not the chic splendor of the multifaceted Chelsea Market up 9th Avenue a block or so. It was one of those 24 hour joints that flourished in the 70s and now were beginning to die out as Starbucks and the new smartphone crowd had discovered Chelsea, but who didn't have the slightest idea who Andy Warhol was.
Sometimes Suna had gone there with friends when everything else was closed, or to get out of the rain. She was meeting Hana after running. Suna loved to run. She admired people who took the time to be physically fit. For her everything worked well as long as she could include being fit in her routine.
When she first came to New York, Suna didn't know enough English to order a cup of coffee. But she persevered and finally was able attend the university and become a true New Yorker. Jerome had christened her as the only true New Yorker he had known. She was very popular and success appeared to come easily with her. She had a great smile and always included everyone in her gaze.
When Suna arrived at the restaurant, Hana was already waiting for her.
"Did you see Elysa?" Suna asked.
"Yes," Hana replied. "Why?"
"I know she may be leaving New York later today or in the morning. I was hoping to see her before she goes."
Hana paused. "All I know is Elysa was pissed at Jerome. He didn't meet her for coffee."
"Well you know Doc..." Suna smiled. "Most of the time Doc is in his own world." For reasons only known to Suna, she always refused to refer to Jerome by his first name, even though they were good friends.
"I ran into Elysa in Washington Square and all she could talk about was this butterfly that some woman seemed to hypnotize ...and about a stalker."
"What?" Suna seemed incredulous. "What are you saying?" Suna tended to think that Hana had her own reality, so she was often skeptical. Even so she saw deeply into Hana and knew there was much more to her than appeared. In many ways she was Hana's strongest advocate.
"Well, you know Washington Square," Hana laughed," ...it usually has its share of crazy people."
"Who was this woman?"
"I'm not sure. I think I've seen her around before, but she seemed...different. I don't care what you say, she did make something happen in the park. It wasn't just my imagination! "
Suna shrugged. Her philosophy was that you pass by some people...some are for you and some are not. In her early days at Washington Square, Suna could be seen sunning herself and taking selfies. Something of a loner. On the other hand she easily attached herself to social situations. She was socially adept in the new media. She was not exactly a fatalist, but in her way of thinking, the world was beyond her control. It all came down to Destiny.
Jerome had been impressed by Suna's charisma and talent. Nothing seemed to fluster her. She was exactly the opposite of Hana. Hana was a talented composer and was also something of a historian, but a worrier. They balanced each other, perfect friends.
"Elysa helped me with my work last night." Hana said.
"I would have joined you," Suna suggested."I really wanted to see her before she leaves."
"I don't know," Hana said. "I think she may be leaving early in the morning."
Whatever happened, Suna consoled herself that life was beyond her control. Destiny would intervene, one way or another. Jerome often thought of her as a variant of Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With The Wind, strong, independent, sometimes disillusioned, but there was "always tomorrow." If she was meant to see Elysa, Destiny would intervene.