store, watching people walk past me or cross the street, oblivious to the world beyond their minds, so I decide to take a walk as well.
I end up sitting on the wall at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. Once I place my shopping bag on the ground, I lean forward, dipping my fingers in the cool, greenish water as I look up at the famous Angel of the Waters. There are about a dozen pigeons scattered on its wings and hands, but only one sitting atop the statue’s head. He looks lonely. My eyes remain trained on the bird until it flies away, then I scan the surrounding area protected in trees.
The heat is rising. The air is hot and humid, almost oppressive, and the light sheen of sweat that covers my skin makes the dress I’m wearing cling to my body. I’m staring at the young couple making out to my right, when someone sits next to me, his or her leg bumping into mine.
Out of reflex, I glance to my left and find a boy of maybe five or six years eating a salted pretzel. It looks delicious, and I guess my stomach agrees because it grumbles loudly in protest. Self-conscious, I wrap my arms around my middle as I realize that I haven’t eaten anything all day. The boy must hear the embarrassing sound because he turns to look at me, smiling sweetly.
I flush. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, my belly growls all the time. Mommy tells me that I eat like a champ because I’m growing up.” He breaks off a piece of the doughy bread and hands it to me. “Would you like some? It’s really yummy.”
My mouth waters as I stare at the piece of bread in his hand, but I don’t want to take it. I don’t do carbs. At all. It’s a hang-up I have, particularly because if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can still remember being cruelly teased about my weight by Paige and her friends.
I shake my head slightly. “Thank you, but no.”
“Here. I promise I won’t make you buy me another one.”
The way the boy is staring at me, his hand holding the pretzel toward me, his soft brown eyes expectant, tugs at my heart. How can I say no?
I reach for the bread, smiling. “Okay, you win. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He grins from ear to ear before taking another bite.
I stare at the piece of bread in my hand. Oh, what the hell. After taking a bite, I address the little boy. “You were right. It’s really yummy.”
“Yep, told you. My name is Ollie by the way.”
“Nice meeting you, Ollie. I’m Blaire.”
He grins. “We can talk now since we know each other, doll.”
I want to laugh but somehow I get the feeling that it would be crushing for the young boy, so I don’t. “Doll, huh? Did someone teach you that word?”
“Yep, I got my skills from the best,” he says proudly, but then his nose scrunches up. “He doesn’t know I was listening to his conversation with his floozy. I was supposed to be focusing on doing my homework while they watched tv in the living room—”
Okay. I have to laugh. “Floozy? Where did you hear that word, Ollie? I hope he didn’t call her that name.”
“Oh, no! I heard my mom using it.”
“Did she know that you were listening?”
He blushes and looks down at his feet. “No …”
Giggling, I realize that I haven’t been this entertained in a very long time. Who knew innocence would be this sweet and fun?
I’m about to take a second bite when it dawns on me that he’s alone. Frowning, I ask, “Hey, where are your—”
“Ollie! There you are, buddy! I told you to wait for me with Frank!”
I turn in the direction of the voice. The sound stirs my memory, and when my eyes land on the man addressing Ollie, I know why. Shocked into immobility, all I can do is stare at him, the same guy from outside the Met, as he takes me in as well. A stunned expression crosses his sun-kissed face that I’m pretty sure mirrors mine.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly nervous. “Does this cute little guy belong to you?”
As soon as I ask, I see the resemblance.
I end up sitting on the wall at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. Once I place my shopping bag on the ground, I lean forward, dipping my fingers in the cool, greenish water as I look up at the famous Angel of the Waters. There are about a dozen pigeons scattered on its wings and hands, but only one sitting atop the statue’s head. He looks lonely. My eyes remain trained on the bird until it flies away, then I scan the surrounding area protected in trees.
The heat is rising. The air is hot and humid, almost oppressive, and the light sheen of sweat that covers my skin makes the dress I’m wearing cling to my body. I’m staring at the young couple making out to my right, when someone sits next to me, his or her leg bumping into mine.
Out of reflex, I glance to my left and find a boy of maybe five or six years eating a salted pretzel. It looks delicious, and I guess my stomach agrees because it grumbles loudly in protest. Self-conscious, I wrap my arms around my middle as I realize that I haven’t eaten anything all day. The boy must hear the embarrassing sound because he turns to look at me, smiling sweetly.
I flush. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, my belly growls all the time. Mommy tells me that I eat like a champ because I’m growing up.” He breaks off a piece of the doughy bread and hands it to me. “Would you like some? It’s really yummy.”
My mouth waters as I stare at the piece of bread in his hand, but I don’t want to take it. I don’t do carbs. At all. It’s a hang-up I have, particularly because if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can still remember being cruelly teased about my weight by Paige and her friends.
I shake my head slightly. “Thank you, but no.”
“Here. I promise I won’t make you buy me another one.”
The way the boy is staring at me, his hand holding the pretzel toward me, his soft brown eyes expectant, tugs at my heart. How can I say no?
I reach for the bread, smiling. “Okay, you win. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He grins from ear to ear before taking another bite.
I stare at the piece of bread in my hand. Oh, what the hell. After taking a bite, I address the little boy. “You were right. It’s really yummy.”
“Yep, told you. My name is Ollie by the way.”
“Nice meeting you, Ollie. I’m Blaire.”
He grins. “We can talk now since we know each other, doll.”
I want to laugh but somehow I get the feeling that it would be crushing for the young boy, so I don’t. “Doll, huh? Did someone teach you that word?”
“Yep, I got my skills from the best,” he says proudly, but then his nose scrunches up. “He doesn’t know I was listening to his conversation with his floozy. I was supposed to be focusing on doing my homework while they watched tv in the living room—”
Okay. I have to laugh. “Floozy? Where did you hear that word, Ollie? I hope he didn’t call her that name.”
“Oh, no! I heard my mom using it.”
“Did she know that you were listening?”
He blushes and looks down at his feet. “No …”
Giggling, I realize that I haven’t been this entertained in a very long time. Who knew innocence would be this sweet and fun?
I’m about to take a second bite when it dawns on me that he’s alone. Frowning, I ask, “Hey, where are your—”
“Ollie! There you are, buddy! I told you to wait for me with Frank!”
I turn in the direction of the voice. The sound stirs my memory, and when my eyes land on the man addressing Ollie, I know why. Shocked into immobility, all I can do is stare at him, the same guy from outside the Met, as he takes me in as well. A stunned expression crosses his sun-kissed face that I’m pretty sure mirrors mine.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly nervous. “Does this cute little guy belong to you?”
As soon as I ask, I see the resemblance.
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