Many thanks to my team and all of you for reading.
Snow trickles from the dark sky in a silent torrent, falling soundlessly onto his windshield. Holiday lights brighten the road from each streetlamp, casting the town in a bright and cheerful winter wonderland. The radio, and every other place he goes, has holiday music on repeat. The combination of cheesy Christmas music and the beginnings of a snowstorm do nothing to improve his mood.
It's shaping up to be another typical holiday season in New England.
And he hates it.
Sighing, he turns the key in the ignition, and his car sighs to a stop in the parking lot of the gas station. Normally he wouldn't wait to fill up in the middle of a snowstorm — he typically would fill up the day before. But he ended up getting stuck at work again and completely forgot about the impending snow until he stepped out of his office tonight and saw the streets and sidewalks already covered in a fair dusting.
The roads weren't awful, but they weren't the best, and by the time he had made it here for gas, he wished he was already home and not stuck here in the freezing cold on dangerous roads.
What's waiting for you at home? A voice sneers in his head. Nothing.
He slams his hands on the wheel in frustration at the voice in his head, his own conscience reminding him just how dismal his life has become over the last three months.
Not that anyone would know.
Besides his parents, no one knows his life has been turned upside down, and he's made sure of it. When he steps out of the car, he is composed and calm, not a hair out of place or a snarl on his face. In fact, he remains perfectly impassive as he steps inside the convenience store to pay for his gas and pick up a cup of coffee to warm him from the storm.
Now that no one is home to perfect his nightly coffee, this disgusting cup of shit will have to suffice, even if it kills him.
"How is it out there?" The young cashier asks, referring to the storm outside, as he approaches the counter with the offending cup in hand.
"Getting bad. Someone could slip in the parking lot, you know." He made sure to watch where he stepped — someone would surely be on the wrong side of his fist if he were to slip and ruin his suit in the snow and slush.
"Yeah, well, I'm down a truck for the winter." The kid sighs in annoyance. "You remember that big red truck we used to keep in the corner of the lot?"
"Yeah, sure." No. Why the fuck would he pay attention to shit like that?
"That was my plow, man. I used to hook the plow right up to that tank of a truck, and the parking lot would be done in an hour."
"Sorry to hear that, man." He feigns a smile and accepts his change.
"Tell me about it. Emmett had to go and sell it to some fleeing housewife," the kid replies with a roll of his eyes. "Fucked everything up for me."
He freezes at the young cashier's words.
"Fleeing housewife, you say?"
The boy nods. "Yeah, she took it and left a couple months ago."
He doesn't let his face change with this revelation that shoots down his spine and speeds up his heart.
But this has the potential to change everything.
He just has to dig a little more, and with the help of his little friend here, it doesn't seem like he'll have to work very hard to find what he wants.
He clears his throat and, for the first time, looks up at the kid with a dazzling smile on his face. "Well, I know some people. Do you have a business card for the auto body shop here? I can give you a call if I can find a replacement plow. For your troubles," he adds.
The kid nods. "Yeah, man. Hold up." He disappears to a back office and comes back with a small, rectangular-shaped card in his hand. "Here."
He gladly takes the card in his leather-gloved hand.
Emmett McCarty.
"Thanks, kid." He says, tapping the card against the counter on his way out. "Merry Christmas."
Turns out it may not be such a bad holiday season after all.
Eff You, Husband!
Thinking of everyone today as we remember the events of twenty years ago. I was a junior in high school and my dad worked in the city. He was fine, saw the whole thing happen while he was sitting in traffic on the Verrazano bridge, and had to spend the night at a friend's house in Brooklyn until they opened everything back up for travel again. Living in New Jersey, an hour's train ride away from the city, meant my circles were devastated by the losses of 9/11. We used to see the wife of Todd Beamer, one of the men who helped take the plane out of the hands of the hijackers and crashed the plane in a field in PA instead of into its intended destination, at the deli in our town all the time in the years after 9/11. A friend of mine lost her uncle in the towers. Another friend of mine - his father, missed his flight, and it turned out to be one of the hijacked planes.
Hoping you all are spending this beautiful Saturday morning doing something you love.
See you tomorrow!