Telling the Two Apart

Cities have innumerable scents, and as one walks down the street, those scents weave in and out of detection swiftly and suddenly, leaving visitors and dwellers alike with the sense that they can be swept up and away at any moment.

Gerard caught a breeze carrying the smell of cookie dough, probably from any one of the restaurants lining the street so close to Christmas. He breathed deeply, missing childhood spent at the foot of a Christmas tree with candy canes and sparkling lights. Just in mid-breath, the aroma was gone, replaced with the stench of a passing garbage truck and fast food joints with their grease and shriveled meats. He wrinkled his nose.

“So what are your plans for the holidays?”

He looked at Nina, who walked—or strolled, rather, as they were keeping a very leisurely pace along the street—beside him. She smiled lightly. He pursed his lips in thought. “Well, there’s really only Christmas and the New Year left to deal with for now.”

“True.”

After a pregnant pause, Gerard said, “My brother’s probably going to be heading here for Christmas.”

“Really? That’s sweet. What about the rest of your family?”

“I’m not so sure about them.”

Nina seemed to feel as he felt and see as he saw; her face wrinkled in disappointment at Gerard’s disappointment. For yes, although the fault was his, he would be missing his family for this Christmas season. He was already writing heartfelt letters and thinking up elaborate gifts, as if that would make up for his lack of presence at the Christmas dinner table.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, each of them playing with their hair and adjusting their jackets in the frosty wind. The weatherman was calling for snow, and calling with some contrition—snow in Chicago meant feet of the stuff, traffic jams and fatal accidents, collapsing roofs and slippery doorsteps.

Gerard, however, had a different sentiment. He could remember days waking up and peeking outside to blinding white, not even having to wait for his eyes to adjust before he ran to Mikey’s room. “Snow! It snowed!” More often than not, Mikey would already be pulling on a snowsuit or a pair of clunky winter boots, and soon the two of them would clunk to their mother, then to the front door for some all-day play.

Gerard and Nina were heading back to IHOP, drawn there somehow, and it wasn’t the pancakes calling them. As Gerard held the door open for Nina, a rush of warm, even hot, air gushed outside and smacked him in the face, blowing his hair slightly.

“Cozy in here.”

They were shown to a booth in the corner; the vinyl seats were cool compared to the air around them, buzzing with conversation. Where the table used to be wooden there was now a sort of Formica covering it, and Gerard flicked away a crumb or two as they slid inside.

“So when will your brother be here?” Nina asked once they had sent the waitress off with orders for coffee.

Gerard slipped out of his coat and scarf; it was stifling inside the little diner. “Well…he’s going to call me, I guess.” It came out as more of a question. “I don’t know. Probably tomorrow or the day after.”

“That’s soon.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You seem a little indignant.”

“Well…” The coffee cups made a muffled clink against the table as they were set, liquid swaying, in front of the two friends. Gerard watched the steam lift and curl. “Truth be told, not only is it a very spur-of-the-moment decision…he has nowhere to stay. At all.”

Nina’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can’t he hole up at your place?”

“No.”

The furrowed eyebrows now raised.

“I’m staying with a friend, and I’m not sure that she would appreciate me just inviting Mikey in. She’s really welcoming,” he explained, “but it’s a small place and I’m already enough of a handful.” He offered Nina a small grin.

“How long will he be here?”

Nina’s fingernails tinkled against the cup as she tapped it. Outside, the wind was blowing, howling. Branches scratched lightly at the window. “Not sure. God, that sounds really bad. But you know, he just decided to come and I tried to tell him no, but…”

In the space Gerard’s unfinished sentence left between them, Nina swallowed and said, “I have room.”

Gerard’s head tilted; his eyes squinted slightly. “Really?”

“I’ve got a little apartment—but the thing is, it’s not really very little.” She took a gulp of coffee. “I have enough room for someone to stay.”

“Geez, are you sure? He can find a motel or something.”

“Not if he doesn’t know how long he’s staying. He could end up paying a lot of money.”

He said nothing. They sipped coffee and even consulted their menus for a few minutes before Gerard told her, “You’d really be helping him out.”

“I know. It’s the least I can do.”

“For what?” Gerard laughed. “I haven’t done anything for you.”

“You really have.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

Gerard wrapped his fingers around the coffee cup, through the glass handle, and leaned forward. “Tell me. What have I done for you?” His lips were curved into a playful smile.

“Well…” Her eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for an object that would give her some clue as to where to begin. She didn’t share this with many people; in fact, Dr. Kelly Juliana (how quickly we forget what we once set out to do) would have been her only confidant, aside from her mother. “I had a friend, Rhea. She was my best friend. About three months ago…” (and there she was almost counting the days again) “…she was in this car accident. It was stupid, and made no sense. This car sort of hit her, and of course, since she was someone’s best friend, and because someone needed her…” She felt tears welling up; willed them away. Gerard’s smile had disappeared. “Anyway, so her car lost control, flipped, and rolled off the freeway. It wasn’t that far of a fall off the edge, but when you’re in a car, things are a little different.”

“Did she survive?”

“No,” replied Nina, with a trace of bitterness.

Gerard blinked. “How long ago? Three months?”

Nina said nothing—she wasn’t trying to be rude. She was just not sure what to say without her voice sounding choked, shaky, and weak.

“Nina, I’m sorry. God, I’m really sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really what I want to define me. When I first meet people, I don’t say, ‘Hi, I’m Nina and my best friend was killed by some idiot driver three months ago.’”

Gerard almost smiled. Apparently, Nina possessed a gift for sharp sarcasm. But he pushed the smile down and shook his head. “That’s terrible.”

“It is. I know.”

A few more moments of silence passed before Nina remembered the whole reason she’d begun this story. “For three months, I’ve been a hermit. I haven’t gone anywhere. I haven’t talked to anyone, really, besides maybe a pizza guy or two and my mother—but I’m not that close to my mother.”

“Or the pizza guys, I’m assuming.”

Nina, for all of her inner turmoil, could still let out a laugh. “I’d probably be closer to them. I’ve been a shut-in. And the day I was going to see your friend, the doctor, I bumped into you. I haven’t talked to anyone…I really haven’t. For three months. It was almost scary, going back out there again, just being out and around people. It was a shock to have you just chatting away with me.”

“I do tend to surprise people.”

“It’s helped me a lot.” Nina turned her eyes, finally, on Gerard, whose eyes were also sparkling with tears under the dingy old light that hung, precariously, over their heads. As if on cue, he sniffled softly.

“I’m glad I could do that for you,” he said.

“Me too.” They both shifted, even somewhat uncomfortably. “I sort of feel bad.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“It’s sort of a sob story. I mean, I guess it wasn’t entirely necessary.”

“Well, that’s true.”

Nina looked at Gerard. He shrugged. “Well, it’s true. But I’m glad you told me.” He smiled as the corner of Nina’s mouth lifted upward.

She leaned back in the booth now, more comfortable, and looked out the window. The very color of the sky breathed winter, and she studied the bundled-up patrons as they trekked through the parking lot.

Thank God it was warm in here.