Spending Christmas alone wasn’t an unusual thing for me. Ever since my dad moved on with a woman six years younger than him, my mom has thrown herself into her work, getting frequent promotions that meant she was ten times as busy. She was rarely home, and the past four years, I’ve been spending all my time off school alone.
Honestly, I do like the alone time. I like the freedom of going out at night, taking long walks down the city streets. As long as my grades are up to my mom’s high standards, she doesn’t put a leash on me.
I guess I’m disappointed this year because she said that she would be home for Christmas.
I reached over and pressed the play button on the answering machine for what seemed like the thousandth time.
Beep. “Cassidy, something really important came up at work. I can’t get out of it. I won’t make it home in time for Christmas. I’ll try to make it back for New Year’s.” Beep.
This is ridiculous. Why am I wallowing in self-pity? There has to be some other thing to do. I live in New York, the city that never sleeps. I should go out. I stood up from the kitchen chair and walked to the front of the house. I grabbed my coat from the coat closet and slipped on my Converse before stepping out into the hallway.
I locked the door and used the elevator to get to the lobby. There was no one around except for the security guard, Joel.
“Evening, Cassie,” he called with a smile. “Getting your mom?”
I don’t confide in many people, not that I have friends, but I consider Joel to be like my uncle. “Nope. She won’t make it.”
His smile vanished, taking on a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you want company . . . “
“I’ll be alright,” I assured him. “Maybe later.”
He nodded. “Okay. Be careful out there. It’s not safe at this time.”
“Thank you, Joel.” I pushed the glass doors open and stepped out into the night. It was snowing. My hands quickly became numb. I shoved them into my coat pockets. I should have worn boots and other winter attire.
The streets were bustling with people, rushing in opposite directions. I don’t know why, but I had expected the streets to be deserted. It was a quarter before midnight, before Christmas Day, and I thought people would be in their homes, huddled with their family.
I didn’t know where to go, so I started following a couple who looked around my age.
“So, excited to see the lighting of the tree?” a boy with dark hair asked the blonde next to him. It was obvious they were together, with the way she leaned her head on his arm, and her left arm looped with his right.
“Of course,” she replied. “This is our first Christmas together.”
My heart throbbed suddenly. It never occurred to me until this moment, watching this couple, seeing the families in their well-lit, decorated apartments that lined the streets, how alone I am.
I didn’t want to hear any more of their sweet exchange. My pace slowed. I still wanted to see the lighting of the tree though. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually seen it myself. I decided to follow the couple a good distance away.
We reached the square five minutes before midnight. It was packed with people of course. Children ran around excitedly, clapping their hands and squealing, while parents stood by and chatted. There were couples too, like the couple I had followed. They had vanished into the crowd, hoping to get a closer look from what I caught from their conversation. There were people with professional cameras as well. Distinctly, above the loud chatter, I heard Christmas music.
