This is being submitted for the Winter Holidays Contest 2019. Please vote. Thanks.
The late fall of 2001 looked as bleak as the bare trees that grew near the patch of woodland abutting my neighborhood. The last of the leaves had fallen and winter approached, cold and lonely. Winter's okay if you have someone special in your life. I didn't and hadn't for close to a year. Judy, my girlfriend of eighteen months, had called it quits, and my subsequent efforts to find new romance had been futile. By mid-December, I had nothing much to look back on since our breakup but a succession of awkward meetings and dates that went nowhere.
Alex, my good friend since middle school, was in a similar situation. "Zach, what we need is a change of scene," he said. "So let's do what we say we're going to do every New Year's but so far haven't done. Let's make the scene in Times Square."
Times Square on New Year's. It's an American tradition that dates back to when Teddy Roosevelt was president. Alex was right; we had always talked about being there but for whatever reason we never made the effort. We'd been to New York but not on New Year's. Like millions of others, we made do by watching the ball drop on TV. But that would change in the final days of 2001. We had the money and the time and nothing better to do but sit home and lament our lost loves. No excuses this time; we were going to New York.
We called a few days ahead and, improbably, got a two-night's stay at the Hilton in Midtown. In the past, we traveled to New York by bus. This time, we splurged for train travel from Baltimore's Penn Station. Some say that the time between Christmas and New Year's is the most exciting time to be in New York. There's an energy, a vibrancy crackling in the winter air that can't be denied. We felt it as soon as we hit the streets, particularly in Times Square where people were already milling around. The city, if not the country, was still reeling from 9/11; yet people stayed determined not to let that tragedy ruin the festivities. In a little more than twenty-four hours, a half-million celebrants would be crammed into this iconic space, and two of them would be us, Zach Jacobs and Alex Cunningham. We had to figure out what to do in the meantime.
"Well, we can try to meet some chicks," Alex said as we lounged about in our hotel room after checking in. "There's lots of single women in New York, plenty without New Year's dates I'd bet."
Still pessimistic from my recent frustrating dating experience, I said, "Yeah, and the ones without dates, at least the ones worth meeting, are probably sitting home."
Alex stroked his reddish-brown beard and grinned. "I bet you're wrong, my cynical friend."
Alex always did have a sunnier outlook on life than I did. With him, the glass was always half-full. We were both in our late twenties, college educated with good jobs. Alex held an IT position with a prestigious private school, while I was in business for myself as a physical therapist. We were in shape, too. Alex ran with the Baltimore Road Runners, while I had just begun training for the then infant sport of CrossFit. On paper, we made a good catch for like-minded females. Realistically, though, I didn't see us hooking up, at least here in New York on New Year's. Besides, I didn't come here for that. Trying to pick up women didn't appeal to me at that juncture. I wanted to have fun, not encounter more frustration. "Look, let's just relax and have a good time," I said. "If we meet women by chance, fine, but I'm not in the mood to go out of my way."
Alex understood. We had lunch, then decided to see Gotham's latest tourist attraction, the one born in terror. Three months after the planes hit, they were still clearing the rubble from the twin towers. We couldn't leave this town without seeing it, we decided, and hopped on a south-bound subway. No surprise, others had the same idea, standing around in their winter garb, many of them looking glum, shaking their heads. It was hard to believe that a few guys armed with box cutters could have done this, could have changed the course of history. I stood there in my leather jacket over a sweater, hands in pockets, hunched against the mid-thirties air temp, thinking how terrified those passengers must have been when they realized that their death was imminent.
We had been there only a few minutes when Alex, bundled in a suede fleece-lined jacket, nudged me. Turning my head to where he pointed, I saw two women around our age. One cried, while the other patted her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. "She might have lost a loved one here," I said.
"Or maybe she's mourning the loss of everyone who died that day," Alex said.
We continued to watch them, becoming more curious. It didn't hurt that they were cute. The one wiping her tears had long, light brown hair. She wore a heavy sweater over jeans and no coat or hat. She cried but didn't shiver. In fact, she didn't look cold at all, as if the tragedy of this place and what loss she might have suffered had numbed her to the weather. Her friend wore a down-lined blue ski jacket and red wool cap.
I suggested we talk to them. Alex demurred. "And you're the one who said he wouldn't go out of his way," he teased. "Plus, they might not want intruders at a time like this."
I nodded. "Maybe not. But sometimes people in pain appreciate sympathy from people they don't know. You know, the kindness of strangers and all that. If they blow us off, we'll respect their privacy and leave." I sensed his reluctance. "Look, this isn't a pickup thing, believe me," I assured him. "Maybe we can help."
He grinned. "Be honest. You're hot on the crying one." Then he laughed. "And I'll confess that I wouldn't mind meeting her girlfriend. But since this is your idea, you fire the opening salvo."
I agreed but didn't know what to say. This would require more finesse than what's called for under more normal circumstances. After ambling up to them, I said this to the brunette: "Don't mean to bother you, but we couldn't help notice how upset you are. We're from Maryland, and we're visiting this site for the first time. Did you lose someone close to you here?"
She dabbed a handkerchief at her reddened hazel eyes and nodded. "Yes, my brother. He was a firefighter."
"I'm so sorry," I said. "Those guys were extremely brave. They were heroes."
She sniffled and blew her cute, slightly upturned nose. "Thanks, they were. Growing up, Scott was always my hero."
We introduced ourselves. Then the grieving one said, "I'm Chelsey and this is my friend Veronica, my other hero who's been a big part of my support system since the bombing."
Veronica smiled and draped a protective arm around her friend. "We've been best buds since grade school," she said. "And Scott, I'd known him for just as long. Scott Glascoe was a great guy, always wanted to be a fireman. As Chelsey said, he was a genuine hero." She brushed away a tear. A curl from her shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair swirled down from beneath her wool cap. They both appeared average height, but the heels on Veronica's boots lifted her an inch or so taller.
"So sorry about your loss," Alex added. "We were reluctant to approach you ladies, thinking you might want your privacy."
Chelsey took my hand. "I'm glad you reached out. It means a lot to me." She managed to smile. "So you're from Maryland. I could tell by your accents that you weren't New Yorkers."
"Chelsey, everybody not from New York talks funny," Veronica joked. "These guys are no exception."
We all laughed, and then my exaggerated Baltimore brogue ("Bawlmer, ooshen, ambalance," etc) got them laughing even harder. If it goes no further than this, I thought, it doesn't matter, for we brightened up their day, one day in what must have been a succession of gloomy days since the planes hit. But we talked on while watching the rubble being cleared. We told them where we were staying, for how long, what we did at home, etc., and they reciprocated. These were accomplished women. Chelsey was in her last year of residency in dentistry, while Veronica was finishing up her nursing studies. They both lived on Long Island but were staying at the Hotel Pennsylvania for a couple days.
