Part one

Wednesday…hump day? Payday…💰
Sunny day with scattered cream cheese clouds spread across portions above. Still chilly but no rain, May 3rd.
I stand on the platform and I see more than the usual amount of commuters.
As I walk to my place at the front, I see a rooftop, I see it everyday, but today it births a memory.
July in 1995 or so. Divorced and just had dropped off my kids by their mother. I felt that usual sense of missing a limb or two. I just got to my apartment and my phone rang.
“I’m picking you up in 10 minutes.”
My friend says as a command and hangs up before I could give my usual reasoning to beg out.
We drove towards a part of Brooklyn which was not the safest part.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it.”
He pulls into a parking spot and we walk towards a three story apartment building.
“Who lives here?”
“My friend, Cindy.”
“And why are we here?”
“It’s her birthday and a bunch of us are throwing her a party.”
“And I am here, why?”
“Because you are my best friend and I think you can use a good time with people you don’t necessarily know.”
I don’t argue and I realize he is my best friend and he is doing his best friend duties. I put my arm on his shoulder and I smile.
“Don’t kiss me, we are purely platonic.”
We walk up 4 flights to the roof. We open the door and there are around a dozen people laughing and gathered in a disorganized groups.
We each crack open an ice cold beer and he tells me to mingle. Not being a shy person I do just that.
I meet some cool people, Cindy, Johnny, Perry and David. Some uncool people, Anthony, Peter, and a girl named, “Baby.” I steer away from them as they go to light up a joint. I’m not a pot or any kind of drug user. Not for any particular reason other than I prefer to have control.
The door opens and a group of 7 or 8 girls join us singing, “Happy birthday.”
They are really fun and good looking. I find my way towards them. I introduce myself and they each give me a half embrace as a greeting.
Sara, Ginger, Smitty, Dylan, Mary and Susan.
“Is your name really Smitty?”
“Is your name really Freddy?”
“Yes, actually. Well, my parents named me Alfred, before long Freddy took over and I insisted.”
She smiled and I said to myself, “Uh oh.”
“My first name is Sarah, but the other Sara named me Smitty after her cat who has the same color hair and eyes as me. I like it also it’s different.”
I saw her and realized she had black hair and green eyes, suntanned skin and was my height.
“Can I buy you a beer?”
“I would like that.”
We walked over to the edge of the roof and stared towards Manhattan. We had a perfect view of the Twin Towers and lower Manhattan.
She told me about herself.
She was looking to study law and was going into her senior year in Brooklyn college. At 20 years old she had that look in her eyes of one who has seen too much in too little time.
I told her my story and she expressed a sad grin.
“I’m the child of a divorce and it sucks.”
“It sucks for all involved when there is love.”
“You still love your ex wife?”
“Oh no. I love my kids and we are very close.”
“That’s important. Always be there for them whenever they call and whenever you planned to be together.”
“I do as best as I can.”
“My mother left us and took a job as a stewardess for American airlines. We see her once a month and sends us postcards from wherever she is. But that’s no consolation for us.”
“Yes, we are two girls and two boys. I am the youngest.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s life, right? But I like you because you are filled with love and that’s kind of rare these days.”
I smile and take a drink from my beer. She smiles and says, “Come I want to show you something.”