Baby, It's Cold Outside!

Sandra Millers

I smell snow.  I breathe in deeply, the fresh but cold air filling my nostrils and eliciting an unfamiliar sense of tranquility in me.  I look all around me at the abandoned streets of New York City, savoring the emptiness. I’m completely alone, surrounded by nothing except for the beautiful canvas of snow that lines the streets.  Each windowsill is perfectly dusted with a layer of white snow. I take a few steps, each causing a satisfying crunch beneath my feet.  I can’t help but smile as I begin walking.  I don’t know where I’m going, but everything feels right.

Joy White

A loud thud on my window wakes me early in the morning.  I groan as I look out and see a large chunk of ice hit the ground.  The streets are completely covered in snow piled several inches high, by the looks of it.  My head throbs, signaling to me that I should probably drink some water, but I choose to instead venture outside to fill myself with coffee.  I roll out of bed, still half-asleep. I shove a pair of boots on and walk out the door in my pajamas with only a light coat on.

The second I get outside, I freeze.  Well, not literally, but I’m pretty close.  I mumble a good morning to the man in the coffee cart as he places my usual iced coffee in front of me.  I take a sip, feeling my entire body reset as the sun suddenly seems brighter than usual. My head clears and I decide to walk around the block.  I had no clue what was going to happen.

Sandra Millers

I have a strange feeling inside of me.  I turn down a street that I rarely walk on, but everything just feels right.  I somehow know that this is the street that I have to be on. My footsteps quicken as I feel something tug at my gut.  Crunch.  Crunch. The snow rejuvenates me with every step as my breath shortens and my heart pounds.  I’m slightly surprised when I see the silhouette of another person walking, the first that I’ve seen all day.  I don’t know what makes me do it, but I begin walking towards her. As she hears me approach, she turns, holding an iced coffee.  I can’t help but let out a quiet “Whoa.”

She’s perfect.

Joy White

I turn to begin walking when I see a girl right in my face.  She’s smiling. I don’t know how anyone could be smiling so brightly on a day where everything is cold and wet.  I step aside to let her pass, but she takes only a few steps before glancing back at me again, smiling. We look at each other for a few moments, and I’m suddenly self-conscious of my oversized sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants next to her fancy fur coat and composed look.  “I’m sorry, do we know each other?” I ask, breaking the silence.

She shakes her head and a small grin breaks out across her face as she looks down.  “Um, no,” she says, “I’m sorry.” She looks back up at me sheepishly.

“No need to apologize,” I say, trying to sound easygoing and ignoring my heart pounding in my chest.  Why is it doing that?  Am I really that insecure about my looks that I’m nervous about this random girl thinking that I’m a mess?  I turn to leave when she opens her mouth to speak.

Sandra Millers

I’m at a complete loss for words.  This beautiful girl, even more gorgeous up close.  I can tell by her demeanor that she’s embarrassed by her pajamas, but I can’t help but stare.  Her blue eyes pierce out from under her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders. I don’t think she sees how beautiful she is.  I have an urge to wrap my arms around her and beg her to see her magnificence, but my conscience stops me.  

I take a closer look at her eyes.  The look of innocence on her face almost tricked me, but I see something else in her eyes.  Behind them, I can detect the pain that she has hidden away so carefully. But I can also see the fire inside of her.  I can see how she’s been knocked over so many times, only to pick herself up each time. I see her silent screams of injustice, questioning the universe why she must keep going every time.  I see all of the times that she’s almost given up but brushes the tears off of her face to show whatever higher being that she’s strong enough for anything. And I believe it.

Her voice catches me off guard.  There’s a hint of annoyance to it, and I realize how creepy it must have seemed for me to be staring into her eyes.  But I know that I’m not going to forget what I saw in her eyes for a very, very long time. I apologize quickly, and as she’s about to leave, my mind is exploding in arguments over whether to say anything.  My father’s voice echoes in my head from the glorious day that we spent together at Coney Island when I was in elementary school, almost twenty years ago. Clutching my stick of cotton candy in one hand and grasping onto his hand tightly in the other, I stared up at the daunting roller coaster tracks of the Cyclone as he whispered in my ear: “You need to take more chances, Sandra.  Put yourself out there.”

The memory of my father pains me, but I take the message to heart.  I take a deep breath and call out. “Hey!” I yell, immediately cringing at how stupid I sound.  I can feel her blue eyes traveling all the way to my heart as she looks at me. I resist the temptation to search her eyes for her feelings.  This must come from me.

Joy White

I look back at her, paying more attention to her face than I did the first time.  When I travel past my insecurities about looking like a mess right now, I notice that she’s really, really beautiful.  Her blond hair looks so soft, and I restrain myself from reaching out and touching it. It has that sleek but effortless look to it that I could never achieve with my hopelessly messy hair.  

We stare at each other for a few more moments, and then she seems to snap herself out of a trance as she begins speaking.  “I’m sorry,” she begins.  

I cut her off before she can say anything else.  “Don’t you dare apologize to me again,” I say, smiling at her.

She laughs.  She has a giggle that perfectly matches her sunny disposition.  “Okay,” she says, “Deal. By the way, I’m Sandra.” She extends her hand for me to shake, and when I do, our touch is electrifying.  I feel as though every sense in my body has come alive with this touch. I can tell that she feels it, too. Her skin is incredibly soft, and I’m suddenly self-conscious of my sweaty palms.  

Neither of us wants to let go.  Without breaking our eye contact, she readjusts her hand and lowers her arm and suddenly, our handshake has transformed and we’re holding hands.  I look at our intertwined fingers, my heart pounding in my chest.  

Sandra Millers

We are holding hands.  We are holding hands.  Those words repeat themselves over and over in my head.  I don’t even know how it happened. I don’t remember what I was going to say.  Everything feels right.

Joy Lopez

I’m not sure what makes me do it, but I begin walking away from the coffee cart, still clutching her hand.  She doesn’t hesitate as she walks beside me. Our footsteps have become one as we walk along the snow-lined sidewalk.  Crunch.  Crunch.

Sandra Millers

As we walk, we begin talking.  It flows so naturally, I almost feel like I’m talking to a childhood friend.  I don’t know where we’re going, but our hearts are aligned. I find myself trusting her and opening up to her more than I ever have to anyone.  We share anecdotes from our lives with each other — the good, the bad, and everything in between.

Joy White

Our laughs echo off of the buildings on the abandoned streets of New York City.  We find that we have so much in common. We share an addiction to iced coffee — especially in the winter — and she tells me about the coffee shop that was the site of many late night cram sessions while she was a student at Columbia.  We both love Oreos, and I tell her about the time that my best friend and I tried every single flavor and almost threw up.

The mood shifts slightly as she tells me about her dad.  How she used to be closer to him than anyone else in the world.  The marvelous day that they spent together at Coney Island when she was little.  The worst day of her life, when she introduced him to her girlfriend at the time before prom and how the magical evening ahead suddenly became filled with tears as he broke off contact from her.  How they haven’t talked since, and she’s not going to be the one to reach out. She grasps my hand tightly as she opens up to me.  

Sandra Millers

Suddenly, I know where to go.  I begin walking with a new sense of direction, and we enter Central Park.  Despite her continuous questions about where we’re going, I don’t tell her.  I smile as my pace quickens.  

Joy White

We stop in front of a lake.  It’s beautifully frozen over, and we are the only ones in the usually crowded park.  “Where do you think the ducks go in the winter?” she says, turning to face me and smiling.  

“The Catcher in the Rye is my favorite book!” I gasp, and we subconsciously move closer to each other.

Sandra Millers

  We are so close, our noses are almost touching.  She lets go of my hands as she puts her arms around my neck.

Joy White

She hugs my body close to hers as she wraps her arms around my waist.  I can see her eyes closing and I follow suit.

Sandra Millers

Our lips touch.

Joy White

It’s innocent and short, but it’s perfect and filled with passion.

Sandra Millers

We pull away from each other, both of us grinning widely from ear to ear.  Without any further words, we hold hands again as we begin walking down the path along the lake.

Joy White

The snow has never looked more beautiful in my entire life.

Sandra Millers

Everything feels right.