For Beth who, but for the grace of God, missed her train that day.
And for those who didn't.
Cause And Effect
As the plane set down on Terra Firma I let out the breath I felt I had been holding since we had begun our descent and sent a silent prayer of thanks up to the Gods of Aerodynamics for allowing me to survive the flight home.
I'm not normally a nervous flyer, and have in fact been aboard an aeroplane more times than I can count offhand, but after the holiday I had had it wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest if bird strike had caused an engine to catch fire or a wheel fell off during landing.
At thirty three and after four years of evening study and two failed attempts to quit, I had finally passed my degree in English Literature and to celebrate I had taken out a loan and bought a return ticket to New York. I'd always wanted to go there. Everyone I knew who'd been had said how amazing it was – the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, The Empire State Building... Even Ground Zero took my breath away. Strange that what is in essence a building site, could serve as a reminder of garnering strength from such tragedy and the overwhelming power of good over evil.
It was the fourth day of my week long holiday and I had stood at the window on the first floor of the shopping centre for a while, staring out at the work going on below me. The builders were shifting rubble and dirt from one pile to another, so sure in their task, despite the fact that it looked as if they were getting nowhere fast. Eight years had passed since America had been attacked, and four years since London, but I remembered both so well and standing there that day, watching as the suited businessmen and women rushed past on their way to lunch or another meeting and other tourists took photographs and paid their respects in muted voices I found myself leaning all of my weight against the glass in front of me and fighting back tears.
I don't know how long I had stood like that for, but it must have been some time because when the security guard placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and told me they were closing the centre for the day I shook myself out of my reverie and saw that day had become twilight and the builders were packing up to go home.
The evening had come on so fast that I could see my reflection in the glass of the window. My blue eyes looked misty with unshed tears and my footballers frame hunched over as I stared sightlessly out into the New York evening. I was apparently a good looking guy, with the quintessential English blonde hair, blue eyed appearance, but right now I felt as shaky on the outside as I was on the inside.
The guard smiled at me again and asked if everything was okay. I answered with a nod and used my sleeve to wipe a renegade tear from my eye.
"Does everyone react like this?" I asked jokingly as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other in embarrassment.
"Not everyone," he replied, his accent strong with local flavour. "But it affects people on different ways. Don't usually see grown men crying these days though." He said with a smile to ease the barb.
I looked at him for a moment, absently appreciating what I saw and at the same time feeling ridiculous for becoming emotional in public. I cleared my throat. "Something in my eye," I replied, all British stiff upper lip.
"Sure," he smiled again and it was infectious enough to have me grinning in response. "Listen, I really do need to lock up now but if you want to take a couple more minutes..."
I shook my head. "It's fine. I should be heading back to my hotel. I was going to try and beat the queue for cheap tickets to a show tonight," I looked at my watch, not surprised to find it was almost seven, "I guess I can try again tomorrow."
"Are you here on your own?"
I hesitated, briefly remembering all the warnings my family and friends had given me about holidaying alone, then I pushed them aside. He didn't look dangerous. In fact, he looked...sweet. I nodded.
The guard studied me for a minute, his eyes betraying the fact that he seemed to be having an inner struggle, and then he spoke again. "Well if you don't have any plans for tonight, why don't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could use one."
A voice came from the bottom of the staircase and we both turned to look at the intruder. It was another guard, this one around fifty or so and from his girth it looked like he enjoyed his morning pancakes a little too much. "Carl, let's go," he called out, barely even looking in my direction. "I gotta get home." then he stalked off into another area of the mall. Carl turned to look back at me and I quickly nodded.
"Great, then let me finish up here and I'll meet you outside in twenty minutes." He said, and with that he moved off down the staircase and disappeared into the back of the shopping centre.
It took me a minute or so to get moving myself, the residual tide of emotions that had grabbed me just from being outside Ground Zero mixed with the surprise of meeting someone who wanted to take me out for a drink was a little overwhelming and at first it was all too much to take in, but eventually my feet started to move of their own accord and I found myself walking down the stairs and leaving the mall to wait outside for Carl.
I was leaning u against the fence surrounding the building site when he came outside fifteen minutes later and for the second time that day I felt a little breathless. As he stood for a moment under a streetlight and looked about trying to find me, my eyes worked fast to take in his six foot frame, messy black hair and olive skin. I placed him at about thirty or so. The security guard uniform had done nothing for this man but out of uniform he was truly a sight to behold; all natural muscle and sex appeal.
As he caught my eye and walked towards me I had to remind myself in a very stern voice that until his orientation could be determined it was strictly hands-off and even if he was gay, he may just be being friendly to a tourist. But the way he unconsciously licked his lips has he drew closer had me practically panting and suddenly all maudlin thoughts that had earlier occupied my mind were gone and my mind became focused entirely on the carnal.
He smiled as he reached my side and my cock twitched uncomfortably in my jeans. "You all set?" he asked and I nodded mutely as we walked off towards the centre of the financial district.
Carl hailed a taxi as soon as one appeared in our view and, with the ease of someone who had lived here his entire life, gave a fast address to the driver whilst simultaneously muting the small but irritating television in front of us. "So you should probably tell me your name," he said as settled back into the cracked black leather seat, "especially since you already know mine. Gives you an unfair advantage."
I grinned and had to bite my tongue for a moment to stop myself from responding with an obvious flirtatious comment. Instead I simply replied, "It's Matt." I looked about me for a minute, glancing at the interior of the cab and at the rapidly rising meter. "You always use taxis?"
"No," he laughed. "That'd be way too expensive. Jerry and I both live in Brooklyn and he's only five minutes from me. We carpool."
I nodded and relaxed back into my seat for a while, enjoying the view of Manhattan at night as we moved through the streets. I could feel Carl in the seat beside me, sense every move that he made and it made me nervous as hell, but our silence wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest and I was almost sorry when the taxi pulled up outside a bar in Greenwich Village and the driver turned to look at us impatiently.
I grabbed my wallet from my jeans pocket and made to take out some cash but Carl stilled my hand with his. "I got this," he said as my heart leapt to my throat and the air within the cab seemed to thicken. I looked down at our hands, his laying gently on top of mine, and then slowly moved my head to look at Carl's face. His eyes seemed to have darkened slightly and his cheeks looked flushed but it was dark in the car and as he moved his hand away to pay the driver, I convinced myself that it was just my own overactive libido playing tricks on me.
We entered a bustling Tapas bar called Meson Felipe and settled ourselves into a table in the corner, mercifully away from the noisy young New York fashionables who were hovering around the bar calling for " More Pinchos!" and "More Sangria!"
It was only a little after eight in the evening but I had already come to realize that nightlife starts early in the Big Apple and some of the twenty-something's throwing down twenty dollar bills and demanding dishes they would never have considered eating five years ago were already well on their way to becoming absolutely steaming drunk. I smiled at Carl who simply shrugged and said "Trust me; this is the best Tapas in town."
A waiter appeared as if out of nowhere and I ordered myself a Cervesa, leaving Carl to look after the food. Being somewhat shy of trying new things I had never eaten Spanish food before, but there was something about this man that made me trust his taste implicitly.
Carl ordered about six dishes and the waiter disappeared amongst the throng of bodies, leaving us alone in our quiet corner of the restaurant. "So what do you think of New York?" he asked once we had our jackets off and were settled comfortably.
I paused for a moment before I began, "It's not what I imagined," I replied slowly. "I've only seen Manhattan so far, but I've only done the tourist stuff and I get the feeling I'm not seeing the real America."
Carl nodded in understanding. "You're from London?" he asked and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"How did you know?"
He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I understand what you mean. Everything you've seen so far has been designed for you, not for the locals. If you want to see New York, you have to leave Manhattan and go to Brooklyn, or Queens, The Bronx," he smiled at my reaction, "It's not as bad as it's made out to be. Areas of The Bronx are very nice. They even have a zoo. It's no different from London really. There are parts you just don't go to at night or on your own, or on your own at night," he finished with a laugh that lit up his whole face.
The waiter reappeared with our drinks and I took a hefty swig of my beer before placing it back on the table. "Go easy on that," he said with another laugh, "Beer over here is a lot stronger than your weak-assed crap!"
I eyed him suspiciously, "My powers of deduction tell me you spent some time in my fair city," I replied as I took another drink, this time much smaller and more controlled.
Carl nodded. "I was there last year for four months. My ex got a job directing a Fringe production and I went over for moral support." He looked down at his bottle for a second before continuing, "It was supposed to be six months but one day I came home to find one of the actors in my bed and after a massive fight, we split up. I came home to Brooklyn the next day."
"I'm sorry," I murmured and unconsciously moved my hand towards his. I stopped myself in time and pulled back quickly hoping he hadn't noticed.
