by Christine Ahern
Suzana leaned out the window and inhaled the morning air so cold it made her throat close; her eyes water and the tears freeze on her lashes. This winter was brutal. For more reasons than the cold. Like her walk home the day before. The rushed turn of a corner that caused her to run into Michael. And the unexpected meeting of the new woman. Brutal.
She wore green. From her emerald shoes to her sequenced gown. She was tall and too thin. Her nose too straight. Her hair too shinny. Suzana was in gray. Going home from work, not heading to the Regal Theater. No longer Michael’s date.
“Michael,” she said, brushing the front of her coat to wipe away the unexpected touch of him. “It’s been a while.”
“Has been. You’re just off work?”
“Yes.” He knew she worked until six and walked this way home every day. “Going to the opening of your new play?”
“Full house.”
She nodded. He always expected a full house on opening night. Sometimes he got one.
“Well.” She glanced at the woman in green.
“This is Emily. She’s my new costume designer.”
“Ah.” Suzana noticed that the opulent necklace she wore looked like costume. “Well, good luck tonight.”
“You mean break a leg,” Emily said and kissed Michael’s cheek.
Suzana moved quickly through the crowd that filled the sidewalk. The bodies somewhat blocked the brutal wind. Everyone hunched and clasped at their coat collars. No one looked at anyone. The cold demanded that they only watch their shoes.
When she passed the bakery window, she saw a strawberry cheesecake. She pulled at her too tight coat and thought, I shouldn’t. But she did.
Suzana closed the frosted window. She picked up her plate. Cheesecake would make the perfect breakfast. She imagined Michael being horrified. She imagined Emily being jealous. She sat it down next to her espresso, next to the computer displaying the review of Michael’s play. Brutal. She took a big bite. Glorious.
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