New Years Day
By Rhiju Chakraborty,
Pulling confetti out of her hair, Sophie leaned onto the exposed brick building beside her, unable to stand up without support. The night was painted black with indigo clouds and despite the screaming and chanting that had colonized the streets of New York an hour ago, it was already eerily quiet. Sophie didn't know where she was going. Pulling the last pieces of shiny gold plastic out of her thick, wavy hair, she stood up straight, gripping her purse tightly, and walked aimlessly past closed coffee shops and windows of vintage stores with eclectic displays. Just an hour ago, she had been screaming at the top of her lungs in times square with her friends from Columbia. But once the ball fell, and her friends slowly one by one, excused themselves to either go home or party without her, the same familiar feeling of impermanence that so often plagued the insides of Sophie spread again like a virus.
She had been in this city for 6 months and yet every time she came close to feeling like she finally fit into the jigsaw puzzle that was New York, she was thrown back into the reality that she was just another soul wandering through a maze of skyscrapers. Maybe that was the point of New York. To find the people in this messy puzzle whose pieces somehow fit into yours.
Looking ahead, she spotted an Irish Pub with Christmas lights wrapped around its sign. Willing herself forward she somehow made it to the bar and pushed the door open, allowing a blast of warm air to hit her face, before collapsing.
She could hear Sinatra playing in the background. Gently opening her eyes she came face to face with a man looking at her curiously. His eyes were big black and deep, like wells willing her to drown in them. His skin was pale and had a shiny quality, reflecting light off of it, and his lips were like two red drops connecting to make a mouth. She also noted that he had a purple wolfsbane flower in his front pocket, which was odd since they grew only in central Europe, she recalled from her brief stint as a botany major.
"Oh good, you're awake".
Startled, Sophie looked up nearly knocking over a glass in front of her.
"Here have some water", he said nudging the glass towards her.
"What... What happened? How did I get here?"
He sat there and gently explained to her how he had found her lying on the ground near the doorway passed out, and had carried her, to much protest ( she'd apparently threatened to bite him) with the help of the barmen inside.
Processing this information, warmth flooded her cheeks. Embarrassed, she sat there for what felt like an eternity avoiding his gaze.
"Look, it was no big deal, just do me a favor and drink some water."
Nodding, she started drinking.
"So what's your story then?" he asked after a while.
Maybe it was the embarrassment of being publicly intoxicated, or sitting in the warmth of this bar, but she suddenly felt like she was back home in Michigan, and spilled out her life story to him. She told him the things she'd never been able to tell anyone in New York, and the funny thing was, he listened. Every time she told him something new, he always followed up with more questions, and by the time she was done, she checked her watch realizing it was 4:15.
"Shit, I didn't realize how long I was talking".
He smiled at her knowingly with his fang-like teeth. It was then that Sophie noticed that he'd been drinking a reddish drink in front of her.
"Not being very sober are we," she said teasingly.
"It's just a bloody mary, and besides I know my limits, unlike some people".
She threw her head back and broke out into sharp laughter.
They sat there for another hour, talking about everything and nothing, as the indigo night slowly turned pink, signaling the break of dawn. Around 5, he left to use the restroom, giving a vague excuse about it being too hot. Sophie sat there waiting for him. Tired of drinking water, she dipped two of her fingers into his bloody mary and tasted it. The flavor was unlike tomato juice, it tasted sour and metallic. The taste of whenever she bit her tongue too hard, and drew blood. She glanced again at her watch and realized he had been gone for twenty minutes. She went to the bathroom door to call out his name, only to realize he had never told her it. She tried to push the door open, but it was jammed.
"Hey, are you in there?"
No response.
Using all her body weight and the move she'd learned from her self-defense classes, she shoved the door open. The bathroom was empty and the window above the sink was open. She walked over to the window and saw a black silk cape-like thing stuck to its frame. She looked at it a little closer, and suddenly it all started to make sense. The wolfsbane flower, the taste of the drink, the way he'd been flinching at sunlight. Overwhelmed, she peered out of the window facing the chilly breeze, and gazing out at the sleeping city, she could've sworn she saw a dark hooded figure flying away into the distance, through the empty streets of New York.
