Out of Tragedy

She grinned, seemingly amused. "Well, are you going to join me or just stand there?"

I stripped down to my own bare essentials and then joined her under the blankets and sheets.

"I can't believe how natural this feels with you," she said, rubbing her firm boobs against my chest.

"With me too," I agreed. "Do you think we met in a past life?"

She combed her fingers through my straight, dark brown hair, grown halfway down my ears, longer than I normally kept it. "Could be. Maybe right here in New York City, perhaps skating in Central Park in the late eighteen-nineties. I picture us in a Currier and Ives lithograph. You've got a thick mustache and I'm wearing a long red dress with white leggings, and we're holding hands."

"But we wouldn't be doing THIS yet, proper Victorians that we were."

"Probably not. But we'd get there, just not as soon."

I ran a finger across her tummy, then kissed it. "Think so?"

"Ooo, that feels good. Yes, I know so." She sat up, looked at me, eyeball to eyeball. "I know something else, too."

"What's that?"

"You're a terrific kisser."

"Thanks. You have everything to do with that. I believe there's great synergy here, Miss Glascoe."

"Synergy, yes, as in we're in sync, Mr. Jacobs. I bet you're a terrific lover as well."

"I'm out of practice, it's been a while."

"For me, too. We'll take it slow. After all, we've got to the end of the year."

And then what, I wondered, realizing how much I liked this girl already. Quickly, I banished concerns about the future and focused on the here and now. It wasn't difficult, not when I was with this New York gal who was as warm and affectionate as she was beautiful. Softly, almost in a whisper, she said, "I've craved this for a while, Zach, someone who I felt comfortable enough to become intimate with, someone to kiss and comfort me. I never thought I'd meet that someone at the World Trade Center site. Then again, it couldn't have been more appropriate. I was crying and hurting, missing Scott so much. Ronnie lent great support, but I needed something more. And then you came along. Talk about impeccable timing."

We didn't say a whole lot after that, at least for the next half-hour, a half-hour of probing and exploring and finding rhythm to our love making, filled with the sort of funny awkwardness that comes with this sort of maiden voyage. We didn't make love all night. In fact, we spent more time talking and holding each other, sharing more of our lives. Being a physical therapist, I knew how to give great massages; Chelsey agreed. Being a dental student, Chelsey gave me advice on better dental care, told me I should use an electric toothbrush when she noticed me brushing with my manual.

We stayed up until early morning, slept in late, and then had brunch with Ronnie and Alex. We ate our omelets, laughing and joking about the way our night went. "Alex is a marathon man in more ways than one," Ronnie quipped.

"And she kept pace with me all the way," Alex said, grinning as he swallowed a bite of his home fries.

"Looks like a splendid time was had by all," I said. "What a way to end the year."

Chelsey raised her glass of orange juice. "And what a way to begin a new one. Come on guys, let's toast to a better year to come."

Following an afternoon of sightseeing, we met for dinner—early enough where we didn't need reservations, and then strolled over to Times Square to find a spot. The city had beefed up the area with lots of armed security personnel. America was on high alert, New York more than other places and Times Square more than other places in New York. I felt proud to be here with these people who, like me, refused to be intimated by what our enemies had done, what we assumed they still could do. On the surface, it looked like every other New Year's in Times Square. Wall to wall people, screaming, laughing, kissing, hugging, blowing horns, tossing confetti. The ball dropped and 2002 lit up, igniting the controlled pandemonium that breaks out every year in this place.

Minutes later, we made our way through the crowd, heading back to our hotel rooms per the previous night's arrangement. Earlier, Chelsey had purchased a bottle of champagne. We threw off our coats, then sat on the bed and toasted the new year. My thoughts about what might happen with us in 2002, perhaps beyond, returned. "Chelsey, I'm hoping this is just the beginning of something with us," I said.

Cup of bubbly in hand, she said, "Good, because I 'm hoping for the same thing. Here's to building on these wonderful couple days. Cheers."

*****

Long distance relationships aren't easy to maintain. The time and effort required can prove too much as it did for Alex and Veronica. Not so for Chelsey and me. It wasn't easy commuting to each other's states on alternate weekends, and sometimes not even that when other matters got in the way. Somehow, though, we built a lasting bond onto those wonderful couple days in New York. Yes, we're married, with two young sons and a nice house in the Baltimore suburbs. Chelsey likes the slower pace down here. She's got a lucrative dental practice with the Smile Center. I sold my physical therapy business a few years ago years ago but keep busy with hobbies and part-time consulting work. When we visit her family in New York, we often stop by the site of 9/11. "Tragedy works in mysterious ways," she told me recently. "I still miss Scott terribly. But if not for 9/11, I wouldn't have met you."

"You never know," I said. "We might have met at the skating rink in Rockefeller Plaza or bumped into each other, literally, in Times Square. People meant for each other somehow find a way to find each other."