Authors: Faith Sullivan
Two nights ago, a group of college students wandered into Donnelly’s Pub. They were from NYU’s film school and just happened to be scouting locations on Beekman Street for a movie project. The strange thing was I recognized one of them, and he recognized me.
Before I dropped out, there was a guy named Mike I met at orientation. We buddied up at the gates of Tompkins Square Park where everyone gathered to begin a walking tour of Lower Manhattan. One of the professors showed us the sites: the brownstone that served as the outside of the Huxtables’ home on
The Cosby Show
, the Union Square Farmers Market, and the apartment where Julius and Ethel Rosenberg lived. But looking back, what stood out the most for me that day was where our tour ended—in front of the former Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, where in 1911 a fire behind locked doors forced dozens of immigrant girls to jump to their deaths onto the street below.
It was creepy to be standing on a portion of the NYU campus where such a tragedy occurred. I wanted to back away from the pavement. It made my skin crawl to look up at the windows, imagining the desperation and fear that drove these girls to end their lives like that. Little did I know the same thing would occur in a few days on a much larger scale, only blocks away.
Mike noticed my distress as I watched people walking by, oblivious to what happened on that very spot. The idea that time moves on bothered me. All that remains is a plaque commemorating their sacrifice while everybody just goes about their business. I guess my small-town sentimental roots were showing because Mike motioned to the hot dog cart across the street in order to take my mind off of things.
We shared lunch another time after one of our classes. I think it was mostly because neither of us really knew anyone else, so we hung out together out of necessity. We didn’t talk too much either. All I knew was that he was from Wyoming and he had floppy hair worthy of a shampoo commercial. We never exchanged numbers. I guess things didn’t get to that point yet. We were probably both thinking,
Do I really want to be saddled with this person for the rest of the semester?
Before we had a chance to explore our options, I left.
I never thought I’d see him again. He seemed just as surprised as I was. I took their order and his eyes followed me across the room. Returning with their drinks, I tucked the tray under my arm and turned to leave, but he lightly grabbed my arm. He knew I was working and couldn’t talk, but he asked if we could meet up on Memorial Day. I couldn’t refuse. In fact, I was looking forward to it.
I take extra time getting ready. Excitement courses through me. Mike called last night saying he wanted to take me somewhere special for lunch, so I’m trying to look my best. Thankfully, Emily convinced me to buy the white lace-accented dress we’d stumbled across. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I’d ever have any place to wear it, but now I’m glad I took her advice. It looks amazing, hugging my body in all the right places.
My high-heel sandals click down the stairs, and Connor’s head pops up. His gaze softens as he takes in my appearance. But why is he sitting by the door? Does he really expect me to introduce him to Mike? That’s not going to happen.
“You look nice.” He’s trying to butter me up before going in for the kill.
“Yeah, I clean up pretty well,” I respond, acting like I could care less about what he thinks.
Standing up, he moves closer to me. “No, I mean it, Michelle. You look beautiful.” With his face inches from mine, he leans in as his fingers graze my shoulder. What’s he doing? Is going to kiss me? He gently tugs at the collar of my dress, and I feel his breath on my neck. I shudder. He hesitates a moment before stepping back. “You forgot to remove the price tag,” he remarks, holding it up. Fumbling, he shoves his hands in his pockets. Willing my heart to slow down, I take a step back, putting more space between us.
“You don’t have to stick around until Mike gets here. I know you must have things to do.” We’re not on the best of terms since I turned down his invitation, and I don’t want him adding any antagonism to the mix.
“I promised your parents I’d look after you, and that’s what I’m going to do.” He’s trying to goad me into an argument so I’ll be all flustered when Mike arrives. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Besides, my parents would be over the moon to know I reconnected with a guy from NYU.” His eyes darken, and I know I’ve hit my target. I don’t want to hurt him, but he’s meddling where he doesn’t belong.
“I guess not that many guys are good enough for you, huh?” His words are laced with venom. Maybe I went too far this time.
“It’s not that. You have nothing to worry about with Mike. He’s cool. It’s not like he’s some stranger who tried to pick me up in a bar.” Throwing that back in his face will shut him up. He can be such a hypocrite.
“It’s different here. People change. And if you don’t know how to handle yourself in these situations, you can get yourself in a lot of trouble. Fast.” Does he really think Mike is going to take me to some abandoned room and start ripping my clothes off? What’s gotten into him?
“Isn’t that how you operate? Shouldn’t I be scared of you?” A smirk tugs at the corners of my mouth, but he’s not smiling.
“Yeah, you probably should be.” His expression is unreadable.
“Connor, stop being ridiculous. So you’re a little jealous that I’m going out with another guy. Big deal. It’s not like I’m planning on running away with him or anything. Just chill, okay?” It looks like it’s up to me to diffuse the situation.
“Where is he anyway? It’s almost twelve-thirty.” There’s a hint of smugness in his voice.
I shuffle through my purse and take out my cell phone. There’s a voice mail. Damn it, I forgot to turn it off vibrate. Placing it to my ear, Mike’s apology comes tumbling out.
“Michelle, I’m so sorry to have to do this to you on such short notice, but our film crew got permission at the last minute for a night shoot, and they need me to set up before they start filming. Call me later in the week sometime, and we’ll reschedule, okay? Talk to you soon. Bye.”
I slam the phone shut.
“Did he bail on you?” Connor actually sounds concerned.
“Yeah.” But I don’t feel like discussing it.
“Well since you’re all dressed up and all, why don’t we go out?” He raises an eyebrow, and he looks so cute doing it.
Aggravated, I pull my hair off my shoulders. “We might as well get it over with.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic. I might be your second choice, but I’ll make it worth your while.” He gives me a sexy grin, and although a part of me is melting inside, I refuse to admit it.
Opening the door, he extends his hand, waiting for mine. The phone behind the bar starts to ring, but he doesn’t move.
“Don’t you want to get that?” I’ll give him an out if he wants it.
“No, I’m waiting for you.” His voice is deep and his eyes are smoldering.
And with that, I take his hand.
Connor strides purposely to the curb, my hand still in his. Putting his fingers to his lips, he lets out a piercing whistle, and a cab stops in front of us. I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed.
Opening the door, he ushers me in. Instead of making me scoot across the seat, he closes the door and gets in on the other side. What a gentlemanly thing to do, especially since I’m wearing a dress. I like this version of him. I wish he’d always be like this.
“Where to?” the cabbie asks, his head bent, scribbling in a notebook.
“Fifth and Eighty-Second,” Connor responds, stretching his arm across the backseat. His fingertips lightly brush my shoulder as we merge into the stream of vehicles heading uptown. Coming to a sudden stop at a red light, his leg presses against mine. It unnerves me a bit. Being in such close proximity to him sets my pulse racing.
If only he didn’t confuse the hell out of me. It’s okay that he sleeps with other women, but he obviously doesn’t want me seeing other guys. I’m sick of him leading me on and cutting me off. He doesn’t want to let me in? Well, that’s going to change. If he wants me, he’s going to have to open up. No more shutting me out when things get tough.
I can feel him looking at me. Testing him, I meet his gaze.
“Today’s my birthday,” he blurts out, breaking the silence.
“Wait a minute… What?” The leather seat squeaks as I turn to face him.
“Today’s my birthday.” he repeats like it’s nothing important.
“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could’ve planned something for you at the bar…” He presses a finger to my lips, stopping me mid-thought.
“I don’t want a big party or anything. All I want is to spend some time with you.” His response floors me.
“Are you playing with me?” It’s hard to tell if he’s being sincere or not. He’s not usually so sentimental.
A dimple appears in his cheek. “No, I’m dead serious. What? Can’t a guy be honest for once? No games, no ulterior motives.”
“You warned me about guys like that. Never take them at face value. We are in New York City, right?” I cross my legs and lean back against his arm.
His resulting laughter fills the cab. “I taught you well. Maybe too well.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday? You were going to let me go out with Mike and leave you there all alone? What kind of asshole do you think I am?” Flushed, I glare at him.
“I didn’t want to intrude. You had plans.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal when it totally is.
“I would’ve canceled them, you idiot, whether Mike bailed on me or not. You know you come first.” Wow, I can’t believe I just said that.
His eyes pierce mine, like he’s examining my soul. “I always spent my birthday with Danny, and this is the first year that he’s not…” He trails off, swallowing hard. Oh God, he brought up Danny.
Carefully, I ease forward to rub his arm. “You know it’s okay if you want to talk about him.”
His voice shakes for a moment but he forges ahead. “As kids, Dad would take us to Central Park to race the model boats. We’d get ice cream and spend the day running around Belvedere Castle.” He smiles, remembering. “One time, a little girl tripped on the stone staircase, spraining her ankle, and Danny carried her all the way down to the bottom. He always tried to help people. It’s just who he was.”
“Is that where we’re headed? Central Park?” This is a huge first step. But I don’t want to push him if he doesn’t feel like sharing anything more.
I can see the leafy expanse of the park flitting between the buildings as we pass. But the cabbie doesn’t stop and the street numbers continue to climb. Turning at an intersection, we sweep around the corner, and looming before us is the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I let out a squeal of delight. “Is this where we’re going?” I ask, tugging on Connor’s shirt. “No way.”
The cab pulls to a stop and Connor pays the driver, but I can’t wait. I’m too excited. Bopping up and down on my toes, I take Connor’s hand and drag him toward the iconic steps of the columned building that spans four city blocks. I can’t believe I’m actually here.
But a thought crosses my mind and I stop dead.
“Connor, do you really want to go to a museum on your birthday?” This isn’t right. He’s doing this for me. We should be doing something he wants to do.
“Absolutely.” I can tell he’s trying with all his might to sound convincing. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he continues, “Listen, all I want for my birthday is to see you enjoy yourself. That’s it. Nothing else.”
“Under one condition.”
“Shoot.”
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself. “That we can talk some more about Danny.”
His grip tightens, but he doesn’t break away.
“Okay,” he whispers.
If I can give him anything, I want to give him this.
We wander through a gallery devoted to the decorative arts of the Renaissance. I stop before an exhibit recreating the luxurious bedroom of an Italian nobleman. Connor stands behind me, warmth radiating from his body. Is he thinking what I’m thinking while staring at the sumptuous bed? My breath quickens as I imagine us intertwined beneath the sheets.
A group of foreign tourists barge in, breaking the mood. Placing my hand on Connor’s chest, I smile up at him. His heart is pounding. “Easy there, tiger. I don’t want another member of the Donnelly family having a heart attack.”
He wraps his hand around mine. The tour group jostles us from both sides, interrupting our private moment. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he says, giving an elderly man wearing headphones a dirty look. I can tell he’s annoyed as he leads me into the next room. I better diffuse his impatience before it gets out of hand. He’s doing so well. I don’t want something trivial setting him off.
“How do you know this place like the back of your hand?” I try rerouting his thoughts in another direction.
And that’s all it takes to get him back to himself. The irritation rolls off of him, and he looks at me with enthusiasm. “My mom is obsessed with art. She was going to go to art school, but when she met my dad she gave it all up. Well, not entirely. She used to take me here on Saturdays when I was a kid. We’d spend hours roaming the galleries.”
“For a bartender from Brooklyn, you’re a pretty cultured guy,” I tease lightly, swatting him on the shoulder.
“Do you want to see my favorite part?” His eyes light up.
“Do you even have to ask?” Oh, Connor, why can’t you always be like this?
He chuckles at my response. “Let’s go,” he exclaims, taking off at a brisk pace.
Exhilarated, we work our way through the crowd. He looks back every so many steps to make sure I’m still behind him. As we pass through a room of ancient artifacts, it feels like we’re on some kind of adventure. I run to catch up with him as he breaks into a sprint. Rounding the corner, I crash into his back, nearly toppling him over. He starts laughing hysterically, and pretty soon so am I. A security guard looks at us like we’re crazy. Maybe we are.
“Oh, wow.” I take in the sight before me while catching my breath. We’re standing outside a large glass-enclosed room. Beyond the panels is Central Park, and right in front of us is a large stone structure.
“Welcome to the Temple of Dendur.” Connor winks at me as we inch closer.
“This is amazing.” I watch as people enter it. “You mean they let people go inside?”
“You bet. Why do you think it’s my favorite?” He motions toward the Egyptian temple. “Do you want to go in?”
“Hell yeah!” Again, we erupt into laughter. This time the security guard shushes us to be quiet, but I don’t care. I love seeing Connor this happy. It’s worth getting in trouble for.
I press my hand against a stone slab. Shivers run down my spine. It’s hard to imagine it was transported halfway across the world to end up here beneath my fingertips.
“It was first built in 15 B.C. Pretty cool, huh?” Connor scans my face, seeking my approval.
“Very cool,” I beam up at him, and his entire body seems to relax.
We explore more galleries containing everything from suits of armor to a Zen garden. Losing track of time, the P.A. announces that the museum is closing, and it catches us off guard. It’s hard to believe it’s after five o’clock already.
“Are you hungry?” Connor asks as we hurry down the stairs.
“Starved,” I reply, holding onto the back of his t-shirt so we don’t get separated in the crowd hustling out the door.
“That may be a problem.” He heads toward the right side of the tiered steps, and I follow.
“Why’s that?” I raise my voice to compete with the noise of the street.
“It’s a holiday, and we don’t have a dinner reservation.” He gives me a sheepish look. “I know you’re overdressed for it, but how do you feel about grabbing a hot dog in Central Park?”
“I’d love to.” A gust of wind sends my skirt flying, and I try to keep it in place. “I wish I didn’t wear this though. It’s so impractical.”
Unconsciously, Connor’s eyes travel down the length of my legs. Quickly, he brings back his gaze to mine but it’s too late. I catch him checking me out. Usually I’d call him on it, but I choose not to. I don’t want him to know how much I enjoy capturing his undivided attention.
“Uh yeah, it’s—a pretty dress.” Hearing him stumble over his words makes me laugh.
“Always keep that smile, honey,” a homeless woman encamped at the entrance of the park calls out to me as we walk by. Sitting on a piece of cardboard, she’s positioned next to a shopping cart that contains all of her belongings. A bandana is covering her hair, and she’s wearing a ripped plaid shirt that swallows up her tiny frame. I can’t tell if the lines on her face are from age or the hard conditions of life on the street.
“We’re going to get some hot dogs. Would you like one?” I don’t know what possesses me. I usually don’t engage with the city’s homeless population. I was trained to avert my eyes and keep walking, for my own safety. But Connor’s here with me, and something about this woman calls out to me.
Connor shoots me an amused look, but he doesn’t interfere, waiting to see how this is going to play out.
“You bet your ass I would,” she responds, displaying a grin that’s missing several teeth.
“Anything on it?” Waitressing really is becoming like second nature to me.
“Onions and a little mustard,” she calls out as we proceed toward the vendor on the corner.
“You got it,” I yell back.
“Next time I compliment you, I’m going to expect to be rewarded with food, too,” Connor jokes, pulling out his wallet as we take our place in line.
“Ut uh, your money’s no good here. It’s my treat.” Signaling him to put it away, I dig some bills out of my purse. “It’s the least I can do for your birthday.”
I can sense that he doesn’t want to give in, debating inwardly what he should do. But we’re next, and I step right up and place our order, handing the cart worker the exact change. Resigned, he gives me an exasperated pout.
“I know it sucks, but you better get used to it.” I wink at him, and he smiles despite himself.
With our hands full, we meander back to our new friend, who’s eagerly awaiting our return. Hands extended, she relieves me of part of my burden before chowing down. She’s done before I’m on my second bite.
“That was deee-licious.” Smacking her lips, she wipes her mouth on her sleeve. Connor ordered two, and I try not to laugh knowing he can get pretty territorial when it comes to his food. Pretending not to notice her, he continues eating. It’s not until she’s inches from his face that he breaks.
“Well, do you want it or not?” he asks, trying to be a tough guy.
She nods, grabbing it without any hesitation.
“What’s your name anyway?” Connor asks, switching to interrogation mode.
As she bristles at his demeanor, her protective instincts kick in. “What’s it to you? Are you a cop?”
“No, but we’d like to know who we have the pleasure of dining with this evening.” I ease the tension, letting him know he needs to back off.
“Name’s Loretta,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
“Well, I’m going to need your help, Loretta.” I keep my voice playful as she looks at me suspiciously.
“For what?” She downed the second hot dog, and now she’s taking a swig from Connor’s Pepsi can as he looks at her in disbelief.
“Well, today’s Connor’s birthday, Loretta, and I need someone to help me sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. Think you can help me out?”
Without further prompting, she bursts into song, singing at the top of her lungs. People walking by stare in our direction. Some even stop and start singing along with her. I try to sing, but I can’t. I’m laughing too hard. Connor stands there, beet red, as Loretta and Company break into a second chorus. We could be here all night.
Getting control of myself, I pat Loretta on the arm, urging her to stop as a cop saunters by to disperse the crowd surrounding us. “Keep moving,” he intones. I breathe deeply as he continues on. The last thing I want is to get Loretta in trouble with the police.
Some people even threw coins and dollar bills onto Loretta’s cardboard mat during the performance, and she bends down to scoop everything up.
Connor nudges me, indicating it’s time to go.
“Thanks, Loretta, for helping me out,” I say, giving her a thumbs up.
“This is a hard city. You keep that lovely smile. You hear me?” She waves until I can’t see her anymore.
“Are you mad?” I might as well ask him.
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “No, that was a very Danny thing to do.”
“Yeah?” I ask encouraging him to go on.
“You and him, you both have this thing where you engage people, take them in. The same thing with Miguel and how you befriended him. Caring about people because it’s just a part of who you are.” It’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, but he’s focused on the pavement in a world of his own.
“Is that why he wanted to be a fireman?” We keep walking, skimming the outside of the park bordering Fifth Avenue.
“We’d always see them hanging around the pub. Dad’s brother was a firefighter so he’d always invite the guys from his house down. We grew up listening to the stories of Uncle Shane and his friends. And Danny knew without a doubt that’s what he wanted to do someday.”
“Is your uncle still a firefighter?”
“No, he retired almost a year ago. He got out just in time.” And there’s our roadblock, but I’m determined to ignore it. I want him to keep going.
“Was Danny a part of his firehouse?”
“Nah. I mean, Danny and I visited a bunch of times when we were kids, and he showed us the ropes, but when Danny graduated from the academy, he was assigned to a ladder company downtown. Uncle Shane didn’t have enough pull to get him with him up in Midtown.” Connor is chatting normally, so it seems anything pre-9/11 is easier for him to talk about.
“When did he graduate?”
Rubbing his temples, he does the math in his head. “Let’s see. He was twenty-two at the time, so that would’ve made it 1999.”
“I bet it wasn’t easy getting through the academy.”
“No way. The training kicked Danny’s ass. He went in as a scrawny kid and came out all muscle. The ladies definitely noticed.”
“Had to settle for being his wingman, huh?”
“I’m more of a player than Danny ever was. He didn’t even have to work at it, but he was in love with Christine. No one else ever stood a chance.”
“Was she his girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” I can feel him closing off from me again. I give him a minute.
“I haven’t seen her since Danny’s funeral. All of us would always hang out, but after what happened it was just too hard. I remind her of Danny, and vice versa.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He pauses to light one, his hands shaking. I stop alongside of him as people brush past us. Inhaling a drag, he regains his composure. “And you know what I can’t get out of my head? Those fucking bagpipes they played at his funeral.”
“Really?” I can’t help it. I wasn’t expecting him to say that.
“Yeah. Who has ever met an Irish kid who didn’t love the pipes? Just goes to show how messed up I am.” He exhales a ring of smoke out the side of his mouth.
“I don’t think you’re messed up, I think you need help.” There, I said it.
He glares at me, but I hold my ground, refusing to break his gaze.
“I want you to come with me to a support group meeting.”
“What is it with you people and these damn meetings? How is talking with a group of strangers supposed to help me? Tell me, Michelle, since you’re apparently such an expert.” The rage is boiling beneath the surface. He’s ready to go off on me. Maybe I should stop right here.
We’re at Terrace Drive, which cuts through the park to the Upper West Side. We can catch a cab here and head back downtown. I don’t want to end our night on a bad note.
“I’m not an expert. You know I’m not. I just care about you. That’s all. Can you at least think it over? If you absolutely hate it, we can get up and leave after the first five minutes. We don’t have to stay.” I put every ounce of my heart into my plea, begging him to reconsider. He’s come so far over the course of the day. I can’t let him slip back, not now. Then I know what to say, as if Danny had whispered in my ear. “Please, Connor. Do it for me.”
His eyes turn sorrowful. I’ve cracked the barrier he has surrounding himself. “I think you have some issues you need to address too. I’ll only go if you participate and don’t just sit there.”
His father must have told him about witnessing my panic attack. Shit. Now he has a card to play as well. I bite the bullet. If it will ultimately help him, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. “Okay, deal,” I say, extending my hand.
“Deal,” he responds, sealing our bargain with a shake.
I’m in over my head, but there’s no turning back now.