Rock bottom is hard. And I'd smashed up against it. Bruised not only my pride but also my body. Guess that's what happens when you haven't eaten in a few days and pass out on the sidewalk in front of the largest department store witnessed by hundreds of Christmas shoppers. And all of them with cell phones recording another titillating moment in the biggest city in the country. Yeah, it just wasn't my day.
Tears stung my eyes as I shifted to my hands and knees while watching feet scurry past. I didn't look up. Didn't want to see their faces. The judgmental disdain and embarrassment etched into their frosty red cheeks. Their sanctimonious scorn of myself and the condition to which I'd sunk. Their chagrin from not being willing to help and of desperately trying to pretend I was invisible.
Icy droplets fell from the sky, settling on my neck. It wasn't quite snow but was no longer rain. And it was a raw cold right through to my core. I pushed up to standing, brushing away the frigid sleet from my arms and legs. I pressed my scraped palm against my hip to stop the bleeding, then checked my bag. It and its contents seemed all right. Yes, my existence has been reduced to having pretty much everything I own in a bag or two.
My life wasn't always like this. How I got here doesn't matter. Another sad sob story. A cruel twist of fate. A dream shattered. I could go on using a dozen more clichés, but I'm pretty sure you get the idea.
So again, I say, hitting rock bottom is hard. And, I might add, it sucks.
Three well-dressed ladies scooted past me, bundled in warm coats, scarves and high-heeled boots. Each holding a large takeout cup from the high-end coffee shop just up the block. Hazelnut. The smell tickled my nose. Probably a cappuccino. My stomach rumbled. My head swayed. I inhaled a deep breath and steadied myself.
A police officer strode toward me. His brow creased. Was he worried about my collapsing on the sidewalk? Or was he concerned for the Christmas shoppers, having their joyous holiday spending frenzy interrupted by the pitiful sight of me?
Turns out it was my second guess. He held my elbow and directed me to move along as he steered me toward a side street. I protested, saying—or rather, lying—that I'd slipped and fallen. But after a quick scan of my unkempt appearance, I knew that he knew I wasn't being totally honest.
He pointed down the side street, Prospect Avenue, and told me about a soup kitchen that was a couple of blocks up behind a large stone church. He smiled, rubbed his stomach, then told me the aroma had been very tempting when he passed by earlier in his shift.
I offered up a grateful smile and hobbled on partially frozen feet in the direction of my first meal in two days. I walked along dreaming about hot chicken noodle soup. Warm broth slipping over my tongue and down into the cavern that was my stomach. Floppy noodles trying to slip off my spoon, but with a quick slurp, I'd catch them all.
Little round green peas nestled in a spoon next to a piece of actual, honest to goodness chicken. The thought of the aroma made me lick my dry, chapped lips in anticipation. Or maybe it would be beef vegetable. A dark, rich broth filled with colourful vegetables. My stomach was torn between protesting its emptiness and celebrating the future meal.
Have I mentioned that fate's a bitch? As I neared the church, the fantasy aroma of soup morphed into the stench of charred wood and acrid smoke. I passed the church and stumbled to a stop. The soup kitchen had burned to the ground. Twenty or so people stood around, either hugging each other or staring numbly at the destruction.
Always trying to look for a silver lining, I edged closer to the ruins, hoping to absorb a bit of radiated heat. A firefighter gently cut me off and directed me back to the sidewalk. I wandered to a couple of different locations, but each time a firefighter was there, just as efficient at protecting the general public. Sometimes I despise efficiency.
I heaved a reluctant sigh. Lunch was gone. And no hope of one tomorrow. I turned to my right, then reversed to my left. Blinking, I rubbed my forehead. Every street looked exactly the same—big, red brick homes with Christmas decorations. I had no idea where I was and when I tried to find the street I’d just walked down; it was like it had disappeared into another dimension.
Does hunger cause hallucinations? I'll have to do a search on that once I have money… and a smart phone… and a chocolate éclair in my hand with one waiting on a gold-rimmed plate. I stumbled, but caught myself. I really must try to stay here—in this reality. Where had that street gone? Prosperous Street. Or was it Proposal Road? I'd only lived in the city for a few months and still had a lot to learn about the roads, boroughs and subway lines.
I shuffled along the residential block past two-storey houses trimmed with Christmas wreaths, smiling Santas and strings of Christmas lights. I could imagine them sparkling against the darkness of the night as the ones had at the house where I grew up.
Memories of warm, loving Christmases tried to surge forward. I crushed them with a runny nose sniff, then swiped my sleeve across my upper lip.
At the corner, I turned to the right. With the church behind me, I had to be heading in the correct direction. The soul-uplifting sound of a Christmas carol floated out through an open door just a few feet away. It was a massive gray brick building. I didn't recognize it, but then this was probably the back or side entrance. A man—in his late-twenties, so about my age—stepped outside and inhaled and released a big breath.
He was tall, dressed in a faded pair of jeans, sneakers and a wonderfully warm looking, red, down-filled coat. Yes, jealousy surged in me as I pulled my thin denim fall jacket closer to me.
My feet edged me closer. It had to be my feet doing it on their own. My instinct was to turn and scurry off in any other direction, like a mouse avoiding a predator. But my feet dragged me closer to the music and the man.
He glanced to his left and smiled at me.
Blurb and Buy Links
Collapsing in front the biggest department store in the city on one of the busiest days of the holiday season was not how Giselle imagined her day. Cold and hungry, she trudged through her daily existence wondering if she'd ever find happiness again.
Teenagers. Ethan loved working with them and turning their raw musical talent into something beautiful and rewarding, but that didn't fill the black void in his soul.
Like fate, the songwriters' muse nudged Giselle and Ethan together. But can Giselle overcome her fears and can Ethan get past the darkness that surrounds him, so they can find love?
Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09L7954ST
Books2Read - https://books2read.com/u/3keqvO
NOTE – This book will only be available in ebook as it is too short to be put into print.
Bit of a brag - I hit this ranking on Amazon. A success for me.
#574 in 45-Minute Romance Short Reads
#7,722 in Holiday Romance (Kindle Store)
#9,464 in Holiday Romance (Books)
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