Before the Shift

Before the Shift

I took the same seat in the Kips Bay Bagel Shop I always did—like people knew it was mine and didn’t dare sit there. The truth is this early in the morning, there wasn’t much competition for it. Today, I was earlier than the two beat cops, who were usually the first ones there. Couldn’t sleep again. I’ve been waking up before the alarm lately—like my body knows something’s coming before I do. After placing their order at the counter, the cops turn and head toward their table, with an acknowledging nod to me as if conceding the race to me today. I returned the silent greeting with a glance that said, “I feel like it’s gonna be a rough one; I needed an early start.”

We all sat quietly, drinking our shitty coffee, waiting for our bagel orders to be called. It wasn’t about the atmosphere or the great service, and definitely not about any great coffee. We all come here because before the sun even rises, we’re first to get the real deal: hand-rolled, boiled, blistered-on-the-bottom bagels that ruin you for anywhere else. No toasters, no shortcuts, no apologies.

For me, it’s also a moment to mentally armor up. I never know what’s coming. Some mornings in the ER, it’s dislocated shoulders and toddlers with Legos up their noses; other days, it’s chest compressions and blood on the floor. Either way, this place is my pre-game ritual. A bagel, lousy coffee, and five minutes of peace before all hell breaks loose.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. I got a chill as a strong wind gust blew in, and the door jingled. The air smelled like it was February, even though it was late March. I couldn’t tell if the city was off or if it was just me. I stared into my coffee like it might tell me something when we were abruptly interrupted.

An old man walking his dog just turned the corner when a kid whizzed by on a bicycle, knocking him down and getting the bike tangled up in the dog’s leash. The frightened little Yorkie was ready to take on the kid, who was trying to untangle himself, while the old man slowly got to his feet. The cops looked to me, and we all froze momentarily, ready to bag the bagels and intervene, but after a couple of fuck yous, hand gestures, and some muttering about stupid kids, the altercation was over. We exhaled a single sigh of relief and went back to our bagels. It began to rain.

A woman entered the shop just as a garbage truck roared down the street. Her hair had gotten wet, her annoyance palpable. “A dozen mixed bagels, sliced, not toasted. Two tubs of cream cheese—one plain and one lox.” You have to know how to eat a bagel in New York. We don’t mess around—and people respect that. She didn’t mince her words ordering. She was driven to complete her task despite the rain. And even in the face of her obvious irritation, Javy wouldn’t have hesitated to admonish her if she ordered them toasted, but it’s mostly the tourists who make that mistake, and none of them are ever out this early.

“Plans for this weekend?” one cop asked the other through a mouthful of bagel.

“Heading out to my sister’s in Jersey for my nephew’s birthday.”

“Nicky? How old is he now?” he asked with an obvious familiarity.

“The little fucker is turning 13! I need to scare him straight a little—keep him on the right path, know what I mean?”

“You should get a bunch of cops to show up in uniform. That’d do it. And you wouldn’t have to say a word.” They chuckle.

Another one of our unofficial breakfast club—Jake Mazzone—came in from the rain and stepped up to the counter. He shook off like a wet dog, and Javy motioned to one of the guys to deal with the puddle. Jake was always ferociously hungry after a night shift.

His overalls were nearly the same shade as my scrubs—grease-stained navy that made us both look like we’d crawled out of a long, loud night. The only real difference was the patch on his back: Nuthouse Hardware, Open 24 Hours. Honestly, they could slap that on the ER entrance, and no one would blink.

“Hiya Mr. Mazzone,” one cop said.

“Mornin,” he quickly acknowledged but then moved on to Javy because he was focused. “I’ll take two everything bagels with chive cream cheese and a breakfast platter with scrambled eggs and extra bacon.” He paused, deep in thought. “And a cherry danish,” he added, satisfied with his selection.

“And some coffee?” Javy asked.

“Yeah. Coffee. Black.”

After we heard Jake’s order, the cops gave me a look that said, “Yeah, Doc, this one is all yours when it happens.”

My smile replied, “I’ve got my eye on him. Don’t worry.”

Jake paid and took the coffee to a table in the corner. His overalls were filthy, but it was the stench of rained-on cigarette smoke from his clothes that overpowered us in the shop—a little more pungent than usual. He kept to himself and checked his phone while he waited for his meal. Meantime, the woman’s bagel order was called—she grabbed the bags from Javy and headed out into the still-dark street.

The two cops finished up and got ready to leave. A voice crackled over the radio:

“Unit Seven, respond to a possible 10-54 at East 28th and Second. Caller reports elderly male down, possible injury.”

One of them reached for the mic clipped to his vest. “Unit Seven, copy. We’re en route.”

“Here we go,” he said to his partner.

“See ya, Doc,” the other one said to me on their way out. I heard the distant sounds of an ambulance heading our way as the door swung closed behind them.

It was time for me to go, too, ready or not. I brushed the breadcrumbs off my scrubs and picked up my belongings. Outside, the rain had turned to a steady curtain. I stood for a second under the awning, watching the streetlights flicker against the wet pavement.

Something about the morning didn’t sit right. I couldn’t name it, but I could feel it—the same way you sense a shift in pressure before a storm.

Head down, I walked toward the hospital. As I approached the entrance, there was a kid sitting on the curb in the rain. Soaked, shaking, barefoot. I know that kid. I shouldn’t. But I do.

He’d died.

Five years ago.

I blinked.

He was gone.

The rain is louder now.