Not another Christmas Carol

Chapter Two

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the crisp air, thoughts of my handsome co-worker were pushed aside. There was something about him that kept enticing and drawing me in.

The snowstorm that had swept through the Big Apple a few days earlier left behind remnants of stacked piles of plowed snow. This only heightened the excitement for Christmas, which was intensified by the sudden rush of euphoria after seeing Joshua. It undoubtedly put a spring in my step. In the distance, a man playing the saxophone was spotted. As the approach was made, AirPods were removed to listen as he played "Tidings of Joy" to perfection, gathering a following as passersby dropped money into his hat. Some spare change was taken from my purse and placed into the Santa hat in front of him. When the gentleman finished the melody, the walk resumed.

"Thank you kindly. And Merry Christmas," the man called after, before starting his next Christmas masterpiece, Silent Night, which brought a massive grin. Lifting my head high, the surroundings were inspected, taking in all the bright festive string lights along the way. A dark morning was appreciated for highlighting them, especially on the Empire State Building, lit up in red and green. The favorite decorated Christmas tree by all, was undoubtedly the one at Macy's, visible as the approach neared. There was plenty of time to examine every twinkling bulb scattered around the giant 90-foot pine tree. It truly felt like the most magical place in the world.

It was not just the smells but also the sights that brought joy during the journey. Although this path was walked every day, something new was always noticed on the way to the office on 49th St. The daily walk passed the Empire State Building, then Macy's, and finally into Midtown Manhattan, just a few yards from Radio City Music Hall. New York was always busy with commuters rushing to work and tourists flocking to landmarks, but this was especially noticeable during the holiday season.

Shoppers were seen on the go as early as this time, entering stores to grab last-minute gifts, reminding of the saying, "the early bird catches the worm." Observing even earlier consumers exiting stores, weighed down by bags and looking fatigued and stressed, added to the lively atmosphere.

The only upsetting part of the morning walk was watching people pass by countless homeless individuals, disregarding them as fellow humans. Taking shelter in doorways and huddling on the ground, they tried to absorb as much warmth as possible from their wet blankets. The opioid epidemic was undeniable. In all the years living in America, it had never been seen so severely. A new drug had taken over the streets, making it seem like an apocalypse was unfolding. Sadly, when people are in pain and can't afford healthcare, they self-medicate. Seeing someone hunched over, paralyzed and losing all sense of their surroundings, was heartbreaking. Someone loved that person—they were a son, daughter, mother, niece, or granddaughter. A person, a human, and an individual who needed help, not judgment.

Alternative transport to work was never considered, as walking allowed for appreciation of the world and its people, and helped find those who needed help the most. Stopping to speak with the homeless, offering a business card and money for a hot meal, often resulted in me being late. Most of those met were ex-veterans. If people knew their backstories, would they be so quick to pass them by, knowing they had served their country? Then there was Geoffrey, a man in a situation similar to that of the lawyer.

Geoffrey became homeless after the stock market crash known as Black Monday and never looked back. Losing his job, then his wife, children, and home, led to a reassessment of his life's purpose. The 80-hour workweeks and stress had caused physical and emotional pain. The anxiety built up like a pressure cooker until the market collapse occurred. His wife divorced him and moved out of state, gaining full custody of the children and removing them permanently from his life. He claimed to be a good dad who loved his children, but after losing his job, he could no longer afford the lifestyle his wife had been accustomed to. Trauma from childhood had marked him, and although his wife initially provided attention he felt he had never received, once the money dried up, it became clear it wasn't sincere love. Attempts to secure custody of his children were made to avoid repeating his own painful history, but the courts ruled in favor of his wife due to her possessions. In his view, the world had shown nothing but cruelty, leading to a decision to shun it. It didn't surprise him when people walked by and ignored him; to him, society was just a selfish group of individuals looking out for themselves.

Most mornings, conversations were had with him. He once expressed respect for the goals being pursued, seeing a humanity in me that he had otherwise given up hope on. Each morning, attempts were made to convince him that there were still good people in the world. On several occasions, a business card was given, but he never visited the office. On this day, no was not an option as his bluish complexion was noted while he sat crouched in the corner of a restaurant doorway.

"Morning, Geoffrey," I said as the cold man with his disheveled blanket was approached.

"Morning, Mila. Does that offer still stand?" he asked through chattering teeth and broken sentences.

"It most certainly does. I'm glad you've decided to come to the office. You look like you could use a warm drink as well. Follow me, and we'll get you sorted." A hand was extended to help him up.

"It's okay. I can manage," Geoffrey replied as he slowly stood. He seemed stiff, poor guy. A new, warmer set of clothes was desired, as his jeans were damp and dirty, and his sweater had large holes, as did his sneakers. His hair was gray, but honestly, it seemed my own hair was in more need of styling than his. His kind baby blue eyes and gentle smile peeked out from behind his long gray beard.

"We can walk together if you'd like," was offered while standing beside him, worried he might fall.

"If it's okay with you, I'd rather try to go in under the radar," Geoffrey said politely, his cheeks beginning to blush with embarrassment.

"Sure." A $20 bill was removed from my purse. After checking to ensure nobody was looking, it was extended to him. Pride was the main reason he had never stepped foot in the building, though he usually accepted a coffee. Hoping this day would be no different, the amount was more than typically given. He had once mentioned how he hated accepting help, feeling that all he had left was his dignity. A very proud man. "Please take this," I said as the money was handed over. "After all, it's Christmas. Get yourself some breakfast." The request was accompanied by a plea.

"Bless you." Geoffrey carefully took the money from me. His cold hand and fingers sent a shiver up the arm. It was hard to imagine how cold he must have felt.

"See you later, Geoffrey," I said as the departure was made. Across the crosswalk, there was a sense of elation about the breakthrough. The goal was to eventually offer him a part-time job, a significant barrier for him, although he often joked that Lilian Day was the only corporate organization he trusted. The aim was to reassure him of trust and to make him feel at ease if he accepted. Preparing him for the offer, including ensuring medical fitness for the job, was the main priority.