I looked at my iPhone and texted my husband: “Where are you?”

No answer.

Bored, I walked around the clock, which is also an octagonal information center. Was my husband oblivious enough to be standing on the other side? I used to stand on that side in high school, waiting for my boyfriend to come down from Inwood. We were both so skinny back then that when we hugged, our hipbones would grind.

We went out for a long time before he finally dumped me during my sophomore year of college. Waiting for my husband, I started to get that buzzy feeling I sometimes get when I’m traveling, as if maybe I was going to bump into somebody I used to know.

Could it be that old boyfriend? I doubted it. He lives in Florida, and someone recently told me he has six grandchildren.

We went to high school in the Bronx. When I was young, we used to go to the New York Botanical Garden on field trips, which back then seemed like a jaunt to the country. One of my close friends was raped there one afternoon after class let out.

Would that have happened if any of her classmates had stuck around, too? Or made her come to the doughnut shop? I thought a lot about this back then, the missed opportunity to save her. And I think about it now, how terrible it was and how angry I still am that someone did that to her.

Back in high school, I thought about a lot of things, but not about one day taking the train to a fancy fund-raiser. I wrote poetry (that I never showed anyone) but never dreamed I would grow up to be a writer. When I was 17, I thought it was possible I would marry my high school boyfriend.