It was three days before Christmas. Pam had been doing some last minute shopping for her sister. She loved Christmas, but especially Christmas in the city. Like everywhere else, all of the stores were decorated with lights, but the sheer number of businesses lit up each block like nothing she had ever seen. Even though people couldn’t decorate their houses or yards like they did in Scranton, Pam loved looking up at the high rises and seeing Christmas lights on each balcony and window.
In Scranton every year, Roy helped his nephew’s boy-scout troop sell Christmas trees. They set up in a big parking lot at the local church, and Pam brought Roy hot chocolate every night. The smell of hot chocolate and pine trees always reminded her of Roy.
Pam quickly learned that, in New York, there are no spare parking lots in which to sell Christmas trees, so entrepreneurs just set up small operations on the sidewalk, sometimes just two or three blocks from one another.A few people were always standing around selling the trees, each one decked out in long johns and drinking hot chocolate. The first year she was in New York, fresh off of her divorce and away from home for the first time during the holiday season, each time she passed a Christmas tree stand, she wanted to cry.
This year, as she walked through the pine trees, she was brought back to those times with Roy, but the memories did not bring her to tears. This year, she finally felt at home in New York.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, Pam was awoken by the phone ringing by her head.
“’llo?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.
“Hey Pam, hope I didn’t wake you up.” Jim’s voice was deep and gravelly, as if these words were the first he had spoken in a while. Pam looked at her alarm clock.
“Its 6:00 on a Saturday morning. Yes, you woke me up.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Take a look out your window, and then meet me outside your apartment in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring the hot chocolate. Sound good?”
She gave a quick glance out her window, and saw a few thick snowflakes floating by. Surprisingly, it hadn’t snowed more than an inch or two all winter. It looked like they finally got some accumulation during the night.
She yawned, and for a second contemplated staying in bed. The thought only lasted a moment, however. “Okay. I like extra marshmallows.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She stepped out onto her stoop, and was overtaken by the sight. She understood why Jim had woken her up so early. Two feet of snow had fallen, and blanketed the entire city. Piles of snow were hanging from the trees that lined the street, and the cars that normally lined the street had been replaced by large mounds of snow. It was beautiful, fluffy, pure white snow. In the city, snow didn’t stay white and pure for very long, so the only way to see it was to wake up before the rest of the city. The thing Pam was most amazed at was the way the snow muted every sound. Snow quieted Scranton, too, but the effect was magnified in New York, where the sounds of the city had become so mucha part of her that she only noticed them when they were absent.
Atthe bottom of her stoop, holding a styrofoam cup, stood Jim. He was wearing his well-worn grey wool coat, and a fuzzy maroon scarf Pam knew his sister had given to him five years ago. His eyes were still small with sleep, but when he saw her, he spread his arms wide, and a huge grin formed on his face.
“Like it? I did it all just for you.”
Chills ran up her spine, and she drew her old parka closer around her. She had no idea what to say in response, and she instinctively looked down at the ground for a moment. She gathered her courage, and raised her eyes to meet his. They stood there, looking at each other, until Pam gave a small laugh.
“Help me down?” She reached out her mittened hand for his, and she cautiously slipped down the stairs with his assistance. When she finally got down to the sidewalk, she could have sworn he gave her hand a small squeeze before he let go.
He handed her the cup of hot chocolate. “Extra marshmallows.”
She opened the lid and took a sip, the strong scent of hot chocolate mingling with the crisp smell of snow. She knew that from this moment on, the smell of hot chocolate would remind her of Jim and the snow, not of Christmas trees and Roy.
They set off side-by-side for Central Park, creating new tracks in the fresh snow on the sidewalks. The sky was still purple with dusk, and not wanting to interrupt the perfect stillness of the morning, Jim and Pam instinctively talked in low voices.
“So its okay I woke you up so early?”
“Okay? Yes, I’m so glad you did. Otherwise, by the time I got up, the plows would have already tore up everything, and the snow would be sooty and brown. I’ve never seen the city so beautiful.”
“I try to do this every time we get a big storm. Doesn’t it feel like we are the only people in the world?”
He was right. They hadn’t seen a car or a pedestrian on the entire block. But it was more than that. Pam didn’t know whether it was the early hour, or the surreal environment, but she felt like no one existed outside of the two of them—no Amy, no Roy. No past, just this moment.
The walk was tiring, but the destination was well worth it. The fields of Central Park spread out before them, the blanket of snow virtually untouched. Pam always found the juxtaposition of the sprawling lawns and the surrounding high rise buildings to be interesting, but this morning, everything seemed magnified.
They decided to head to Belvedere Castle, so that they could get a view from the highest point in the park. A few cross-country skiers and pedestrians had the same idea, and shared friendly greetings with Pam and Jim. Otherwise, they were alone.
They finally made it to the observatory on the second floor of the castle, and the entire park lay at their feet. They stood in silence, Pam overwhelmed at the beauty of the city that had somehow become her home over the last few months. The wind was a bit more biting than it had been on the ground, and with a shiver, Pam wrapped her arms around herself.
Jim looked down at her, and unraveled his scarf. He placed it on her shoulders, and slowly wound it around her neck. His gave the scarf a small pat when he was done, and she smiled up at him.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I was hot anyways.”
Jim leaned against the railing, and Pam joined him, standing right next to him. Their shoulders touched, and Pam was sure that if they weren’t both covered in layers, he would feel her skin start to burn.
Below them, they saw an older woman totter through the snow, wearing only a thin gold jacket and designer leather boots. She was talking on her cell phone and typing on her blackberry at the same time. Behind her, a tiny dog bounded up and down, at times obscured by the drifts. The Chihuahua was wearing small gold boots and a matching gold jacket, with a crystal-studded collar and leash.
Pam, fascinated by the woman, hadn’t noticed that Jim was leaning in towards her until she felt his hot breath in her ear.
“Hey,” he whispered.
She jumped, startled not just by his voice, but his proximity. He did not immediately pull back, in fact, in seemed as though he leaned in a fraction on an inch further. He was so close she could see the small snowflakes resting on his eyelashes and the little brown flecks in his eyes, which seemed to be trained on her own. She finally tore her eyes away from his, and subconsciously started to fidget with her left ring finger, an old habit left over from the days when she wore something on that finger.
The moment passed, and Jim moved back to a more polite distance. The comfortable banter they had been engaged in all morning was quickly replaced by an awkward silence.
Pam immediately cursed herself. What was wrong with her? She had been praying for some sign that Jim still had feelings for her. This was it, right? Why was Jim here with her, instead of Amy? He had just been so close she could feel his breath on her. Why couldn’t she just do something?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was staring out towards the park. It wasn’t until his hands began to ache that he realized that he had had a death grip on the railing. He let go, and ran his hand through his hair, thinking about how close he had just been to her. All it would’ve taken was one more inch, and he would have kissed her.
The last few days had been rough. After the dog incident, he felt more and more guilty. Guilty about his rising feelings for Pam, guilty about lying to Amy. He must have been acting more distant, because Amy seemed to be clinging more and more tightly to him. The breaking point came a few days ago, when Amy had stopped by his place after a long day of work bartending. Jim had nothing to do while she was working, so he had called Pam. It was completely innocent, she had come over and they had made homemade pizza and drank some wine. When Amy arrived, Jim had to admit it was a little tense. Pam left twenty minutes later, after some forced friendliness on both Amy’s and Pam’s parts.
As soon as the door closed behind Pam, the fighting began. It would have lasted longer, but Jim couldn’t say much to defend himself. The evening had been innocent, nothing had happened, but his protests were weak, and he knew it.
Finally, she grabbed his hand, and with more pleading in her voice than anger, she asked him to stop seeing Pam.
“What do you mean?”
“Stop seeing her. Don’t invite her places. Stop being her friend. Please.” Her eyes began to water.
Oh god. He had made her cry. He couldn’t handle that. He hung his head, but didn’t say anything.
“Can you do that for me?”
He finally met her eyes, and hating every inch of himself, shook his head no.
That had been it. He hadn’t talked to her since.
And now he was standing here, in the lightly falling snow, next to the woman he had given up Amy for, and he couldn’t do a thing.
“Jim?” Her voice sounded timid.
He cleared his throat and looked towards her. “Hey.”
“Jim, I’ve been thinking a lot about . . . things. About what the chances are that we would find each other again.” She turned towards him, the snow falling a bit heavier now.
Find each other. Not run into one another, find each other. Like they had been looking for each other all along.
“Yeah, me too.”
“And I realized that I’ve been given another chance, and I’m not going to get a third one.”
He found his words caught in his throat.
“I know you and Amy are happy, and I’m not here to interfere with that. But I know that I made a mistake with you once before because I was afraid. But I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve lived with too much regret over the past three years. So I’m going to tell you that I love you. And I’m not going to expect anything from you, but I’m not going to sit here silently anymore. So . . . there. That’s it.”
She must have gotten the chills again, because she wrapped her arms around her chest, but she never took her eyes off him. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye.
He couldn’t find any words that would describe it. All he knew was that his heart felt like it would burst. Because the words weren't coming, all he could do was slip one arm around her waist, and kiss her. It was just a kiss, a simple kiss, but it was all he needed. They had found one another again, and he would never let her go.
The end.
veryangrymidget is the author of 2 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 32 members. Members who liked Old Friends also liked 2235 other stories.
