Restoring Christmas Page 2
Gretchen held out her hand, “I’m Gretchen Harkins. It’s a pleasure to meet you . . .?”
“Angela. And the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”
After a nice chat over coffee and crumb cake, Gretchen and Angela said their good-byes and Gretchen headed home to get some work done editing her latest photographs. She wiggled the key in the sticky lock to her apartment until it finally agreed to turn and pushed the door open. There was a red envelope on the floor by the door. It’s an eviction notice! She must have been late paying the rent this month. Her heart began to pound. As Gretchen read the letter, her grip on the paper grew tighter and tighter until she was crumpling the paper in her hands. She then balled it up and threw it across the room.
Now she had to call Adrienne. Great.
CHAPTER THREE
Leaving the red envelope on the kitchen counter, Adrienne gathered her strength and slowly walking into her bedroom. Peeling off the coffee-stained skirt, blouse and suit jacket, Adrienne’s mind mulled over the words from the letter. An onslaught of memories of her family had her feeling dizzy. She opened her vast closet, which displayed a variety of color-coded designer clothing all hung with velvet hangers.
Selecting a pair of jeans and a cozy cashmere sweater, Adrienne wanted nothing more than to snuggle onto her soft chaise lounge and eat a pint of ice cream. But the practical side of her realized sitting alone in her apartment would do nothing but leave her brain free to roam around in thoughts from her past. What’s that saying? Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Well, her memories were the devil.
Scanning her apartment for a particular pair of boots, Adrienne glanced around and felt a sense of pride. She had made it this far all on her own. She secured a steady, well-paying job and saved for this larger apartment, spending months furnishing it with custom furniture and high-end appliances. If she got this promotion at work, which was not looking great at the moment, but if she could get that promotion, she planned to try and move to an apartment in her building that was a few floors up with sweeping views of downtown and the Empire State Building. Currently, her only views were of another brick building a few feet away from her window. Thoughts of work had her heart racing with anxiety. The light gray walls of her apartment now felt as if they were suffocating her.
In a pair of comfortable low-heeled boots and a warm puffer jacket Adrienne left her apartment and walked straight toward the elevators. She needed to go for a walk. Out on the street, Adrienne thought back to what Angela from iTech said to her and decided to make her way over to Rockefeller Center. Due to the crowds, the tourists, the Christmas music and the cheery shoppers, Rockefeller Center was typically a place Adrienne avoided during the holidays. Perhaps it was Angela’s energy or the red envelope encouraging her to go see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, Adrienne wasn’t quite sure. Something deep down inside her was pushing her there, which was strange considering she hadn’t been there in over four years.
On her way, Adrienne stopped in a small café and ordered herself that gingerbread latte she had been craving all day. Sipping the warm, spicy coffee, Adrienne wandered slowly down Fifth Avenue with its wide sidewalks and high-end retail stores, consumed by her own thoughts. Maybe the incident at the office this morning was a good thing, she thought to herself. It forced her to slow down for a minute, take in the fresh air, and really enjoy this city that she lives in. The bells, the music, the ice skaters, the energy! How can anyone want to live anywhere else?
Walking up to the edge of the viewing area with the ice skaters gliding around down below her, and the giant Christmas tree in front of her, Adrienne let her mind slide back to when she was a child. She sees herself skating across the ice, hand-in-hand with her sister, giggling as they tried to go skate faster and faster without falling. She could still hear her mother yelling to them, “Slow down! You’re going to get hurt!” But the sisters just laughed, thrilled by the speed and the possible danger. Feeling a tear slip down her cold cheek, Adrienne quickly wiped it away and was brought back to the present.
“Excuse me? Excuse me, miss?” asked an unknown voice in a Russian accent. Adrienne turned to see a woman and a man, smiling broadly. The woman was holding up her phone and motioning for Adrienne to take their photo in front of the tree. Adrienne smiled and nodded her head, reaching for the phone. She snapped a few photos of the happy tourists before she decided she had had enough of Rockefeller Center. She knew what she had to do now.
Walking a little further beyond all the holiday madness, the crowds began to thin out, and the noise became muffled as Adrienne went further and further east. It was as if her body was on a mission that her brain was unaware of – detached and focused she moved on. She walked and walked until she could walk no longer. She had come to the edge of the island and the East River sparkled ahead of her in the midday sun.
Choosing an empty bench along the water, Adrienne sat to rest her weary legs. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it for a moment. I wonder if she still has the same number? Or if she even has a phone at all? Taking a generous gulp of her now cold coffee, Adrienne pushed Gretchen’s name on the screen and held her breath. Would she even answer?
“Hi, Adrienne. I was just about to call you.”
“Really? Then you got the letter too?”
“Yup. What are we going to do?”
“I have no idea. Maybe we should get together to discuss it – and try and come up with a solution?”
“Um, I guess so,” Gretchen said hesitantly. “Want to have dinner tonight?”
“Okay. Oh, wait. I already have dinner plans. How about a drink after dinner?”
“I’m working tonight. Want to just come to McMurphy’s? We can chat while I work. I’ll save you a seat at the bar.”
“Fine. I can’t believe you still work at that dive.”
“Don’t start, Adrienne.”
“Right. I’ll see you later.”
Well that went about as well as Adrienne could have hoped. Her belly swirled with the thought of seeing Gretchen later. It had been so long. Standing up slowly, Adrienne headed back to the street to hail a cab and go meet Jason.
Unbeknownst to Adrienne, across town in a tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, her sister was also desperately in need of a little Christmas cheer.
CHAPTER FOUR
Holed up in her tiny basement flat, Gretchen sat back on her bed and leaned against the wall. Staring at the balled-up letter on the floor, she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Of course, thoughts of her family snuck into her mind occasionally, but she did a pretty good job of keeping them buried in the shadows of her brain. This letter brought everything back to the forefront with a giant bang.
Many of her co-workers at McMurphy’s complained about working nights, but Gretchen was thankful for the late-night job. The constant drink-making, pint-filling, and wine-pouring left little time for her to think. And when she did finally get home at two in the morning, she collapsed on her bed and was asleep within seconds. If she had every night to just sit and think alone in her hovel, she would probably go insane.
What is Adrienne doing right now? She was most likely dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, with her hair pulled back in a bun sitting in her cubicle working diligently for twelve hours straight. There once was a time when Adrienne and Gretchen had fun together – when they would laugh with each other. Gretchen tried to hear the sound of Adrienne’s laugh, but it had been too long – its sound was just another casualty of the accident and the time that had passed between them. Gretchen would do anything to hear that sound again.
Okay, that’s enough of the pity party. Gretchen hopped off the bed and picking up her phone, almost called Adrienne, but decided to play some music instead. Turning the volume on full blast in an attempt to drown out her thoughts, Gretchen turned on her laptop and opened the file that contained her most recent photographs. As she scanned the photos of some gritty graffiti from the side of a building on the Lower East
Side, Gretchen decided she was pleased with how they turned out. Years ago, when she first arrived in New York, she would walk up to Central Park every day in search of photographs that juxtaposed nature against the rough city backdrop. More recently she had started a series that highlighted the glitz and glamour of New York City positioned next to the underground darker side of the city. She found a woman in a white fur coat walking down a sidewalk with the background covered in graffiti. It was perfect – just what she was looking for.
As she searched through photos, she enlarged those she found interesting and played with the lighting and different filters. Lost in her work, when her phone dinged it startled her so much she jumped. Glancing at her phone with one eye still on her computer screen, Gretchen saw a reminder blinking. Oh no! The appointment!
Leaping out of her desk chair so fast the chair banged to the ground, Gretchen ran over to her tiny closet, leaving the chair tipped over on the floor. She pulled open the closet door so fast she knocked a stack of folded sweaters off the top shelf and they all come raining down on her head. She threw the sweaters on the ground and quickly shuffled through them looking for one cardigan in particular. Then back to the closet, she pushed and pulled at the hanging clothes, which were jammed in so tight they didn’t move when she pulled one item over to see the next. With no time to spare, Gretchen found the long black casual dress she was searching for and put it on as quickly as possible. She tossed the cardigan sweater over the dress and pulled her hair up into a bun. Slipping boots onto her feet while simultaneously searching for her portfolio in the mound of photos and papers stacked on her desk, Gretchen frantically dumped the entire contents of her desk onto the floor. If someone were to walk into her apartment right now, they would think she had just been robbed.
With her portfolio and her bag in her hands, Gretchen rushed out the door and up the stairs onto the street level. How could I forget about this appointment? She scolded herself, frustrated. Now, to avoid being late she needed to waste money she didn’t have on a cab ride. Thankfully, since it wasn’t rush hour cabs were plentiful in Midtown. In the cab she had to search through the emails on her phone to find the address of the art gallery. I really need to get organized!
After scrolling through a million emails, Gretchen found the one she needed and gave the annoyed cab driver the address. On the ride downtown, Gretchen took deep breaths and did her best to calm down and pull herself together. When the cab stopped in front of the Gilmore Gallery, Gretchen stepped out onto the sidewalk, smoothing her dress and hair, and walked through the glass doors with forced confidence.
The Gilmore Art Gallery had polished concrete floors and floor to ceiling windows allowing in an amazing amount of natural light. The walls were painted a bright white allowing the artwork that hung on the walls to stand out. Gretchen couldn’t help but scan the walls of artwork in awe of the talent. As she walked slowly around the main showroom taking it all in, she was approached by a woman in a tight-fitting black skirt and white button-down blouse. The woman’s hair was pulled back neatly and thick-rimmed black glasses sat perched on her pointy nose.
“Hello. Welcome to the Gilmore Gallery. Can I be of assistance in some way?”
“Hi, yes! I am here to see Eleanor Anderson. I have an appointment.”
The woman with the thick glasses looked Gretchen up and down and with her lips held tight in a straight line nodded her head. Without saying another word, she turned around and walked away. Gretchen stood there puzzled, watching the woman until she disappeared around a corner. What does that mean?
A minute or two later an older woman, possibly in her sixties, (Gretchen had never been great at guessing ages), with very short gray hair and bright red lipstick walked up to Gretchen and introduced herself.
“Hello, I am Eleanor Anderson,” she said extending her right hand for a handshake.
“Hi, I’m Gretchen Harkins. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Anderson.”
Just as quickly as the first woman disappeared, so does Ms. Anderson’s smile. “So, what are you here for Ms. Harkins?” she asked.
“Right. Yes. I am a photographer and I have put together a series of photos that I call “Gritty Glam,” which is a compilation of photos here in New York City. I juxtapose the conflicting worlds of, well, the gritty and the glam,” Gretchen’s palms started to sweat as she tried to open her portfolio while standing up, holding it across her arms and attempting to turn the pages to display her work. “You see, it’s a statement about the gap between the wealthy and the poor, the powerful and the underprivileged and how we all live among each other in such close quarters,” Gretchen felt as if she was rambling but she kept talking because Eleanor Anderson appeared to be interested.
“You see this photo,” Gretchen pointed at one of her favorite photos that was developed in black and white with only a woman’s bright red lipstick in color. “You see here, she is in a floor length gown headed to a charity event and walking right by this homeless person . . ..” Eleanor held up her hand to signal for Gretchen to stop talking. Gretchen stopped breathing altogether.
“I think you have something there, but we are not looking for anything taking place in New York City right now. We are focusing on a multi-cultural theme at the moment. On the photography side we are looking for work from Africa, South American, Russia – do you think you could bring us something from Siberia?”
Gretchen let all the air out of her lungs she had been holding in and looked at Eleanor Anderson like she asked her to . . . well, like someone just asked her to go to Siberia to take photos.
“I don’t think I can make it to Siberia, no.” Gretchen said slowly, still looking at Eleanor perplexed. “Couldn’t you have New York City as part of your mulit-cultural showcase? New York is full of people from all over the world . . ..” Gretchen stopped mid-sentence as she saw Eleanor’s hand go up again.
“No, I’m afraid that is not what we are looking for at the moment. But you stick with it, you have a lot of potential,” Eleanor said before she walked away, crushing Gretchen’s dreams, and disappeared around the corner.
Exiting through the giant glass doors and back out onto the cold sidewalk, Gretchen wasn’t sure she had ever felt so low. This appointment was her last chance to try and secure a showcase before the end of the year. Maybe I am just not meant to be an artist. Slowly moving one foot in front of the other, and with no money left for a cab ride, Gretchen began the long trek back up to Midtown.
Pulling her sweater tight around her body, Gretchen felt the cold air seep into her bones. Why do I keep forgetting to put on a coat? It’s December! I really need to get organized. Just ahead of her, two young women were leaving a coffee shop. Laughing and chatting with their coffees in hand, the women pushed the door open and knocked straight into Gretchen; bumping her so hard she almost fell over. She looked over at the women and neither of them stopped to acknowledge the collision or say, “Excuse me” or “I’m sorry about crashing into you,” – they said nothing, they did nothing. It’s as if Gretchen isn’t even there. Can people not see me? Am I invisible? That would explain a lot. Gretchen thought to herself as she watched the two women giggling their way down the sidewalk.
Looking back toward the coffee shop, Gretchen made an impulsive decision: she was getting herself a gingerbread latte. With her mind made up she marched over to the coffee shop doors, pulled them open, glancing through the glass first to be sure no one was on their way out, and walked inside. Shuddering at the initial burst of warm air, Gretchen took a moment to appreciate the comfort of the heat and the smell of coffee and sweets. Ordering a latte to stay, Gretchen found a seat and waited for her beverage. As she watched the many different types of people from all walks of life stroll past the window, she couldn’t help but again be frustrated by Eleanor Anderson’s remarks. Siberia? Seriously? And then her mind immediately went back to the red envelope and Adrienne. She looked at her phone, contemplating whether to call her, and decided she would do it after she enjo
yed her latte.
Perhaps the barista could sense her dismal mood, because when her order arrives, Gretchen looked down at the big mug full of espresso and milk and saw a Christmas tree formed out of the foam. A wide smile spread across her face as she looked up and around in search of who made her such a special treat. However, no one was in sight. Just then her phone rang, and forgetting about her angel barista, Gretchen looked at the phone and saw Adrienne’s name on the screen.
“Hi, Adrienne. I was just about to call you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Adrienne stepped out of the cab at the address Jason texted her and looked up at the buildings around her to see if anything looked familiar. When she saw an all-glass artsy looking building on the corner, a smile spread across her face. And there, right in front of the big double doors, looking sharp in his navy suit and long wool coat was Jason.
“An art gallery. You must really feel bad for me,” Adrienne said as she gave Jason a quick peck on the cheek.
“Can you believe I am not only going to an art gallery willingly, but I actually planned it? Now I know you don’t believe in Christmas, but this would almost be considered a Christmas miracle.”
“I believe in Christmas! Why do you think I don’t believe in Christmas?
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you hate Christmas music, Christmas decorations and even Christmas trees. I have seen your apartment – nothing Christmas-y in sight.”
“Well, I used to like Christmas. And, you don’t have any Christmas decorations in your apartment either.”
“That’s true, but I’m a guy. It’s different,” and before Adrienne could disagree, he said, “Can we go inside now. I can only be gone about an hour.”
Letting the Christmas conversation drop, Adrienne entered the Gilmore Art Gallery and unknowingly missed seeing her sister by only a few minutes. Walking past the abstract art that hung on the bright white walls, Adrienne paused in front of each piece, studying the interesting angles and colors. For a few minutes the heavy weight of her worries was lifted. The coffee debacle, Elaina, the red envelope and Gretchen were still there, but instead of sitting hard on her shoulders, they were floating above her head giving her a couple of minutes of peace.