Winter Comes

[Suu]

The following tale is true...or fiction...or both.


The city had a profound smell to it. It wasn't dirt, or piss, just...City. Sometimes I found myself too close to it like I did on this night as my face was pressed against the warm concrete of the cracked sidewalk in front of my apartment building. I ran my fingertips along its rough surface and analyzed how it felt as I followed my hand with my eyes.

I know I was awake, but as to if I was aware, well, that was another story. This wasn't the first time I found myself like this, and like the times before; I had no idea how I had gotten there.

I felt a hard pull on my jacket collar and my body lifted off of the ground forcefully. I assumed it was the NYPD, and went way too willingly, until I heard a familiar voice, "God Anna, not again! Let's go before mom and dad see you."

Massimo was my adopted brother, part of my adoptive family that decided they wanted to feed me while I lived next door to them here off of 51st East. To them, I was a good Italian girl, but their son knew otherwise. Max was 15 years old, a month younger than my actual biological sister, and a pretty good kid all around. He took the liberty of showing me around town when I first moved here a couple months back for the Internship of Doom™.

The City got the best of me in nothing more than two point five months time, unfortunately, as only it can do best to a 20 year old who gets paid too much, so Max felt it part of his responsibility to make sure I didn't end up as a possible statistic. He got me to my feet and helped me inside and up the stairs to my flat. He already had my keys and let me in, so staggered immediately into my bathroom and made my way to the toilet as I anticipated vomiting, especially with the lights inside flickering as badly as they were...no, they weren't flickering, I was still tripping, I had to be. I could feel my eyelids pulse with the rapid changes of light, like a strobe in a club of some sort, and my irises didn't know to dilate or what.

"Damnit." I growled, and crawled up to the rim of the bowl.

"You know, sis." Max began, "You told me the last time that you weren't going to do this again..."

"I lied!" The room, it was in motion, and I spat into the water.

"Obviously." He sneered in reply. "Well, get that shit out of your system and come out here. I have something for you."

I wasn't drunk. I wasn't stupid enough to try drinking in a Manhattan bar underage, plus I didn't have a fake ID, so even an attempt was futile. This was much worse. My teeth felt gritty, probably a mix of street dirt and cocaine...and blood, I definitely tasted blood and noticed as it dripped from my mouth and nose into the toilet.

"Shit." I hopped up; still dizzy from whatever else I had contaminated my body with that evening and turned to my mirror to tend my nosebleed. I watched in amazement and drug-induced stupor at first as the blood swirled and danced around my septum pincher before I blinked and started swabbing it with tissue and cotton swabs.

I saw Max look down and sigh out of the corner of my blurred vision, but managed to clean myself up enough to where I found myself becoming more alert. It would take time for the high to wane, but at least it was a start.

I stepped out of the bathroom and saw Gabriel, Max's friend now sitting on my futon. My mouth quickly found its way to a smile and I said, "Well, hello again..." in a way-too obvious provocative tone before I noticed another figure in the room. "...Fuuuuck."

It was Alessandro, yet another adoptive brother, in his BDUs, and a backhand with my name on it connecting with my cheek. The force was enough to drive me off of my feet into the bathroom door, though in reality it probably wasn't even that hard of a hit nor did it need to be in my state. While I wasn't looking, and somehow in the seconds that all of this felt like it took, my bathtub was filled with cold water and I was being upended into it, Ralph Lauren glasses first, followed by my now-filthy and soaking wet Dolce and Gabbana suit.

I later found myself naked, but I'm not sure whose fault it was, mine, or one of the boys. I couldn't recall if I was screaming about the suit or exactly what happened other than my designer clothing laying in a sopping heap on my studio floor, and myself shivering in the bathtub howling and thrashing around. I do remember the high retreating and my focus pulling back at one point, so I was able to remove myself from the tub and dry off effectively while cursing for modesty.

I stared into my mirror at the sallow face that attached to a body clocking out at 120lbs. At least with makeup on, I looked awesome, but at the dark circles streaked with running mascara and liner, I looked like a drug addict just pulled from a cold bath.

Imagine that.

In the next moment, I was sitting on the couch in my bathrobe, sipping hot green tea and looking across at Gabe. He was visiting from Los Angeles and was a year younger than I. He was pretty mousy, but tall, with short light brown hair and thick glasses...the perfect nerd. He had a hard time looking directly at me, which most normal people would associate with general shyness, but when I did finally catch his eye for a moment, I ran my tongue barbell along my upper lip and smirked at his reaction. His throat flashed as he took a deep breath and swallowed, and his eyes once again fell to the floor. Success.

He had a piercing fetish. I know this because he openly told me so before seeing my septum or tongue during a rather interesting conversation. I was now playing to this fully and executing my right as a dick tease, but nothing more. I took pleasure in him writhing over there, for a million thoughts were probably surging through his mind at the idea of what I could do with my tongue ring, and this made me feel powerful.

I had done the same thing a night prior while we were out to eat, just after he had told me about his fetish, and since our little date I've had a hard time controlling my mind from thinking about all the things I would do to him. This violated my current rules though, as he was younger than me, and also lived across the country. No teenagers and no long distance. This was my code and I was sticking to it, even if he was cute, and openly admitting to being a kink.

"You're supposed to be at drill this weekend, I thought." Alessandro snapped me out of my perversions.

"I go next weekend. Quonset." I replied robotically, and sipped my tea.

"All the way up to Rhode Island?"

"May as well, the move is about to be permanent anyway."

Gabe's eyes rose back, "So...they did can you?"

"I wasn't canned, per se, just...not offered a full-time position at the termination of my internship." I twitched, "Fuck the Times. I don't think I could work there all the time anyway."

"All you ever do is bitch about it." Max said, flopping on the couch next to me with a lit cigarette. Fifteen and smoking; I had nothing to do with this.

"Fuck Florida." I was being mimicked by Alex, "Fuck New York, and guaranteed soon-to-be fuck Rhode Island. Tell me, Anna, is there any place you'll ever be happy?"

I noticed both Max and Gabe's eyes on me as I reached for my own cigarette out of the pack that Max had commandeered, "Sometimes, I think I am happy, then I remember I'm still alive."

A few groans filled the air.

"Shut up." Alex angrily snapped back at me, "Really, what goals do you have for yourself? Where do you think you're going to end up in this life?"

"Well let's see, this week my boyfriend broke up with me, I lost a chance at having a job with one of the top newspapers in the world, and I received word that I'm going to be discharged before I get into flight school...and I get to enjoy all of this by moving back into a house with my parents miles away from what I'm used to. I think not attempting anymore suicide would be a fine goal."

"What about California?" Gabe piped in, but then shrunk back after he got death glares from both of the pseudo-brothers,  "Well, I mean...did you ever think about moving out there? At least you wouldn't have to worry about being cold, and you could definitely find a job. With your design skills and such, you should have no problem living in LA."

"No, fuck California." I exhaled the smoke and looked at the cigarette in my fingers, "I hate that place...I have a feeling I'm going to deserve the winter that's coming to me."

I did hate Southern California and its plasticky ways. I've been to Los Angeles twice by this point, once on a whim during spring break when my friends and I decided to drive the length of I-10 in it's entirety from Jacksonville, FL to Los Angeles and back again, and then again for a convention. Both times I found myself hacking up a lung and cursing such a city that was founded only on the existence of those yearning to be entertained.

Once upon a time, LA had constantly beautiful weather before it was heavily polluted by those with the delusions who choose to live there, constantly unchanging weather suitable enough for the regular filming of motion pictures, but with the creation of indoor sets and lighting, it was just easier to do that now while the filth of the failing world surrounded the air conditioned sound sets.

...There is also the San Andreas Fault.

New York, in comparison, was old and disgusting. It was glaringly East Coast with its swampy climate and fast pace. There was no beach down the street or breast implants rollerblading down Santa Monica, or at least in Midtown where I was anyway. The towering structures created both a shield and a magnifier to the elements, and it always lived up to its name of the 'city that never sleeps'. I know this, because I was always more than pleased to be able to make a run to the nearest Duane Reade at 2am when I craved chips and salsa while I was stoned off of my gourd.

Alessandro was passed out on my floor by now, and Max had gone home across the hall. Gabe stayed over for a bit and watched some television with me, even though we found ourselves talking more about the finer points in life rather than watching whatever godawful rerun Nick at Nite was gracing us with.

The clock hit 11pm and I began to do some channel surfing and fell on the evening news. It was October 11th, 2002, one month after the one-year anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks. Of course it was. They had to tell you daily to the microsecond how far along 'in the wake' we were. Every day. All day.

"How many times am I going to have to watch those damn towers fall?" I grumbled.

"Well, they're very serious about the 'never forget' campaign." Gabe replied quietly.

"Meh." I replied, pulling my blanket around me more as the cool October night air slid in through my poorly insulated windows. I looked at the pack of cigarettes on the table, and then looked up at Gabe still sitting across from me on the computer chair. The look I was given was pretty straight forward as to if I should light up or not, so I refrained, and continued to flip through the channels.

"I go back to LA tomorrow." He spoke up, obviously trying to make conversation.

"My apologies." Were my words as I continued to at least pretend to focus on what wasn't on TV at this hour.

"Yeah...I never got down there. To Ground Zero."

For some reason this piqued my interest. "Really?" I said, turning to face him, "Did you want to go?"

"Well I don't know...is there anything worth seeing?"

"...It's a big whole in the ground where two huge buildings once stood and a shit ton of memorials to all the people who died. They're still clearing some of it out last I was in the area, but that was months ago."

"Ah." Was his only reply.

That was enough for me. I jumped from my futon and walked into my bathroom; stepping out of my bathrobe along the way and reaching for some clothes in a bin I had in there. It was my hamper, but I didn't care.

"What are you doing?" I heard from the main room.

I came out in a hoodie and jeans, and did whatever I could to get my bleached blonde hair back into a ponytail. "Come on, let's go."

"Where?"

"Ground Zero."

"What, NOW?!"

"Why the fuck not?!" I grinned and checked my pockets for some cash and a Metrocard. "Dude, you're only here for a few more hours, may as well see New York at night."

"...It's night now. I see it." He stood up from the chair, looking totally confused.

I simply responded with a smile, "No you haven't."

Leaving poor Alex behind in my apartment, alone, on a Wednesday night in midtown Manhattan, I dragged the West Coaster out onto 51st toward Lexington, where we caught the 6 train toward the Brooklyn Bridge, then transferred to the 4 at Grand Central. I don't remember how long it took to be exact, other than most of the trip was in total silence aside from other travelers and the constant screeching and rocking of the typical Metropolitan Transportation Authority underground vehicle of choice. We were able to get to Fulton Street, so we detrained there and made it to the surface. The area around there was surprisingly dark and quiet.

The Tribute in Lights had only gone for a couple of months in the spring, but they had to get back to work clearing the site. Rumors had it they were still pulling bodies out even over a year later, which didn't surprise me.

As we neared the site, I felt my chest grew heavy. It still disgusted me, all of it. As much as anyone could get sick of the news and hearing about the tragedy over and over and over again, there was only so much you could really ignore it. After all, four of my family members snuffed it, and two others were suffering PTSD forever because of the Towers collapsing. There were already stories about who did what, and what was going to be built, and if it was a conspiracy, but I ignored all of that, instead, I simply grabbed Gabe's arm and walked him toward a fence where he could get a good look at the crater. There were a few lights still on where there were small skeleton crews working on demolition, but for the most part, the site was dead and spookily quiet.

After a few minutes, I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, and placed it in my mouth, "Kinda makes you wonder where God is, huh?" I said with it between my lips before going to light it.

"There is no God." Was Gabe's cool reply. He couldn't be more right.

I wasn't sure of what was going through his mind, but I was certain that he was cold, as I watched him catch a chill. It was in the mid 40s, and I was freezing even through my hoodie, still not used to the concept of seasons. So naturally, neither was he.

"So what are you going to tell your friends when you get home tomorrow about your trip? That you got to see a huge hole in the ground of the largest city in the United States with your friend's crazy next door neighbor?"

"Something like that."

"If anything, I'm sure it'll make a hell of a LiveJournal post."

He laughed a bit, "Indeed."

I took a long drag off of my Marlboro Light and stared off into the site. I don't think I could actually pinpoint one thought that raced through my mind at that moment, there were so many. There just seemed to be too much to think in such a short time.
I only glanced over at Gabriel as we leaned over that barricade, but I remained silent and finished up my cigarette.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah..."

We made our way back to the subway station and got back on the 4 train to Grand Central, yet another ride in silence except for the multitude of people going in and out of our train car, which got thicker the closer we got to Midtown. When we got out to transfer, I saw him, Nick, the recent ex.

There's a magic about Manhattan, a magic that allows over a million people to live there and millions more to be in-transit on an island only twenty-three square miles in size, yet you will always run into the person that you least expected, or in this case, least wanted to see, and there was no doubt it was him.

Wearing a white t-shirt that he had written on himself with the latest pithy anarchy quote he could come up with, tight jeans and Doc Martens, there was the ex, tall with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. The kid was essentially a punk rock Anakin Skywalker.

"Fuuuuck..." I groaned.

"What's up?" Gabe asked.

"Nothing, let's just go."

Of COURSE he would get on the 6 toward the Bronx...he lived on 72nd and I lived on 51st. Of COURSE it would HAVE to be the same train car. Part of me hoped he didn't notice me, and part of me really really wanted him to come over and try to say something to me so I could knock him flat. But the odds of that were much lower, because he was a fucking coward, which is why we broke up to begin with.

My thoughts were at work again, as I tried to pretend I wasn't paying attention to him standing in the back of the car. He was obviously trying to ignore me, I could tell. I narrowed my eyes at him dramatically and put my eyes to the floor. He told me we weren't dating and it was just a 'thing', and he told me that it was 'fun' and that was it. What the hell does that mean? I had a feeling he didn't know either. I bet something else was up. He refused to return any of my calls or IMs or emails. He wouldn't explain it.

Oh god, was I the crazy one?! Was I 'that girl'?

"Anna...our stop." Gabe said, tapping me on the arm.

"Oh, right, sorry, dozed off there."

We left the station and started walked back toward my flat, but then I stopped and went, "Wanna get some pizza? I know a great place nearby that's open til 2am."

Gabe nodded his reply and we walked in the opposite direction toward the Park.

I was. I WAS that girl. I was that crazy girl that guys talk about, the one that thinks she's in a relationship but in fact she's just being used as a toy and a free escort. I was the girl that let herself become obsessed over a guy that could, in the end, care very little. Fuck.

[Freeky]

I like it. It's got a real gritty feel to it.

[Suu]

My life was pretty gritty for a while.


Names are taken from SCA personae to protect identity. Some characters actually existed there, some did not. I'll let you decide what you think is fact or fiction.

[Juana]

I like, especially the beginning. There were places where the descriptions stuck out, which is good. Would like to see more of that, but that's just me.

[LMNO]

Good stuff.  It's a great set-up to both go ahead with the narrative, and also fill in flashes of backstory.

[Suu]

I like, especially the beginning. There were places where the descriptions stuck out, which is good. Would like to see more of that, but that's just me.

I know, I got tired last night and it wasn't coming out as planned. Today I plan to build it up some more.

[Adios]

Good stuff. Got me waiting for more.

[Suu]

Added a bit more and edited some stuff. Still working on it.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Posting to receive quicker updates

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Suu- I think you've captured a couple of feelings on a couple of things

1: Never been further west than Indiana, but I hate Los Angeles with a passion, for the reasons you describe
2: NYC does have a particular, indescribable smell that can't be put with other cities
3: Time frame. I was sick of it too. I understood, but man, stop shoving it down our throats. I remember a couple of things, debating with a coworker about Iraq vs Afghanistan, and which was right (she argued both were right, I argued only Afghanistan) and watching on the news that the invasion of Iraq was imminent. This of course, is about 5 months after your narrative, but still.

Oh and:

[Richter]

That is the literary equivalent of downing a shot of cheap booze.  You know the subject matter will burn, but it's still satisfying regardless.

[Suu]

Both Gabriel and Maximo have been notified that they're written about, even if they may or may not have been there. One of them is honored, the other...well, he's indifferent, but wants more details.

Alessandro is currently deployed again. 

[Suu]

More added. I think that's it for tonight.

[Juana]

Excellent!

[Suu]

Added a little more.

Gotta get back to work.

I think I'm taking this as far as Early November when I meet Richter and Herbert and that's it.