Page 62 of Angel
“It’s too hot inside places in the winter,” I grumbled as we ran across the circle in front of oncoming traffic. “It’s like stores are trying to convince us we’re in the Bahamas.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
We stopped at the subway entrance and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.”
She hurried down the steps, her four shopping bags so laden down with goods they nearly scraped the cement.
Pulling my hat down further over my ears, I set off along West 59th, taking the path skirting the south end of Central Park. Though the air was icicle cold, the city had yet to receive its first snow fall.
The lights of the fancy hotels glimmered even in the pre-dusk. This part of the city always hustled with activity, but this time of year added something special. Small potted fir trees lining the streets glowed with white Christmas lights. Doormen grinned as they hurried to help ladies with their bags. Children hung onto parents with gloved hands and jumped up and down to see a policeman on a horse go by.
I seemed to be the only one not enjoying the moment.
Over the past year my memories had been slow coming back. They were mostly unimportant ones. A test taken at school in fifth grade. A sleepover at my junior high friend Jamie’s house on Staten Island.
There wasn’t much in there about Christmas.
I checked the time on my phone. Twenty minutes till I needed to meet Angelo at Rockefeller Center. I could take my sweet time walking there.
Nothing screams Christmas like Rockefeller Center. After turning down onto Sixth Avenue then hanging a left onto 51st, I arrived at the plaza. Permanent trees strung with blue lights lined the zone, an introduction to the main multicolored Christmas tree.
Ice skaters shrieked and laughed under the shadow cast by the large tree, spinning and flying on the pristine white rink. I stopped at the railing and pressed myself against it. Closing my eyes, I took a long breath. The sounds around me seemed to exist in a weird place between joy and terror. People could either be yelling from happiness or fear. It was hard to tell.
Had it always been that way?
Sophia’s comment about me being paranoid socked me in the gut.
Because it was true. Iwasparanoid.Andanxious. It was kind of hard not to be after you abruptly retrieved the repressed memory of your parents being murdered in cold blood right in front of you.
Processing something like that took some time.
I opened my eyes.
And nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Angelo!” I shouted.
He stood only inches away, pressed against the railing just like me.
“Sorry,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around my back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” I buried my face into his coat.
“How did shopping go?”
“Sophia got herself a lot of nice things.”
He chuckled. “Sounds about right.”
“How was your meeting?”
“Good. Looks like we’re making some leeway with the Louisiana properties.” His hand trailed down to grasp hold of mine. “You ready to go home?”
Home.
There could be nothing better than hearing him say the word.
