Snowflakes & Fire Escapes

by Darhower, J. M.

  “Grace!”

  His voice had a panicked edge to it, his footsteps harder along the wooden floor. He seemed to be doing circles, checking all the rooms, before coming to an abrupt halt right by the window. I didn’t turn to look, but I could sense his intense gaze.

  He spotted me.

  He shoved the window up further to come through, perching himself on the windowsill. He sighed exasperatedly, clasping his hands together in front of him as he propped his elbows on his knees.

  “I forgot.”

  I forgot. He said those words like they were supposed to fix this, like they would make it better and not worse instead.

  He forgot.

  How the hell could he forget?

  Ten years had passed since my mother died. I had been so young back then that I was starting to forget so much—the feel of her hugs, the sound of her laughter, the way she spoke my name—but I’d never forget her.

  I’d never forget today.

  I could feel tears in my eyes, and I blinked them back, grateful none escaped. I didn’t want to ruin my makeup. I spent a long time doing it.

  “I got busy,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to forget. It just slipped my mind.”

  We were supposed to go see her.

  She was buried out in Queens.

  We went every year on the anniversary.

  Not this year.

  “Look, I’m exhausted. It’s been a long week and I’d like to get some sleep and forget any of this happened. I’m just so tired of all of it. I’m ready to forget.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  He knew I wouldn’t say anything.

  Climbing back into the apartment, he paused. “It’s not safe for you out here, especially after dark. I’ve told you before about leaving that window open.”

  He didn’t wait for me to come back inside before walking away, heading off to his bedroom. He knew I’d obey him.

  Eventually.

  The sky grew darker, but the neighborhood was as alive as ever. After nightfall was when the hellions really came out to play. I watched them, recognizing so many faces, even seeing Cormac drive by again, rushing off to do whatever the man did. Nobody noticed me up there, though.

  Nobody ever looked.

  Nobody but him.

  Cody was out with his friends. Most of them lived a few blocks up, Cody included, but they tended to hang out down here instead. It was because of me, he once said. The other boys followed Cody’s lead, and he gravitated here to be near me. Even when we couldn’t be together, he took solace in the fact that I wasn’t far away.

  I spotted the group on the corner across the street, smoking and roughhousing near the diner as usual. I watched him for a few minutes before he glanced my way, spotting me sitting up there. He broke away from his friends then, passing the joint off to one of the others, and exhaled a puff of smoke.

  “Grace!” my father shouted from in the apartment. “Inside. Now.”

  Something got into me then.

  Something struck me in that moment.

  I didn’t care if it would bring me trouble … I needed him.

  I needed Cody.

  The next thing I knew, I was on my feet, but instead of slipping back into the window and following my father’s demands, I was moving away from it. Cody jogged across the street, pausing in front of my building, his brow furrowing when he saw me. I navigated the fire escape, not as easily as he always did it. When I reached the bottom, he grabbed the ladder, pulling it down to help me.

  The moment my feet hit the filthy sidewalk, I launched myself at him. Cody stiffened, caught off guard. “Whoa, whoa, whoa … what’s wrong, love?”

  The dam broke unexpectedly. Tears flooded my cheeks. I couldn’t speak. Cody wrapped his arms around me, one arm clutching me tightly while his right hand made its way into my hair, grasping the back of my head and holding me against his chest as I sobbed.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is, whatever happened … it’s going to be okay. I promise it.”

  Never once did he try to shush me.

  Never did he tell me not to cry.

  He held me, standing on the sidewalk, ignoring the looks from passersby, and let me get it out. My tears slowed eventually and I caught my breath, but he still wouldn’t let go of me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, nearly choking on the words. This right here wasn’t Cody. He didn’t like people knowing his business, and I was making one hell of a scene.

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m always here for you, Gracie. Always.”

  Those words brought on a fresh round of tears, but I got myself back under control quickly, pulling myself together enough to pull away from him. I hated myself for falling apart, embarrassed by my losing it, but Cody merely looked at me with worry—not because of me, but for me.

  He worried about me.

  Reaching over, he cradled my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the tears from my cheeks. Black smears from my mascara smudged his skin as he wiped it all away.

  “The bastard forgot what today was, didn’t he?”

  Slowly, I nodded. Cody’s scowl deepened. He pulled me right back into his arms. I didn’t cry anymore, but he continued to hug me.

  It felt like an eternity.

  Goose bumps coated my skin.

  I pulled away eventually, knowing I needed to get back upstairs before I got caught down here with him, seeing Cody’s friends were watching us curiously, waiting for him to join them again. They knew about us, of course … the whole neighborhood knew. We’d never been a secret, but we tried to never make a spectacle out of it.

  I tried to point that out, but he interrupted my thought process.

  “You look beautiful today, Gracie.”

  Those words stalled me. “I’m a mess.”

  He shook his head. “You’re always beautiful, but I like your hair when you wear it down like that. The curls, you know … I dig that shit.”

  I smiled softly. “Thank you.”

  Thank you for trying to make me feel better about the fact that I have raccoon eyes and I’m running around in ripped pantyhose and no shoes.

  He stared at me for a moment before leaning closer, his expression serious. He knew I didn’t believe him. “I mean it. You’re fucking beautiful. When you’re laughing, when you’re crying, and every moment in between. There’s nobody more beautiful to me. And don’t ever apologize for what just happened. When you hurt, I hurt. You don’t ever have to go through that alone, Gracie.”

  I nodded, and he did the same, before he grabbed the ladder for the fire escape, tugging it back down. I started for it, but he stopped me long enough to kiss my still-damp cheek.

  “You remembered,” he whispered. “That’s all that matters. Fuck him.”

  ***

  Twelve months.

  I’ve been this new girl for almost exactly a year now, and it has yet to get any easier for me. I had just turned seventeen when the Marshals showed up in the middle of the afternoon, telling me everything in my world was about to change. It was an abrupt decision, one that I certainly didn’t see coming … one that would alter my life forever.

  Witness Protection.

  The first few weeks were pure hell.

  I was taken straight from my apartment in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan to a secure location outside of Washington to debrief, where I was isolated and put on lockdown. You see, being as I was a minor, I was supposed to have a guardian with me in the program, but I came in alone.

  It begged the question: What to do with me?

  At the beginning, I was practically imprisoned, always guarded and not allowed to roam, until Holden put his foot down, stepping up to accept responsibility. I was old enough, and mature enough, he said, to live somewhere by myself. After all, I’d practically been doing it for years. I was allowed to pick my new last name—Gracie Callaghan traded in for the equally Irish yet sort of pretentious sounding Grace Ke
nnedy—but Holden picked the less than glamorous location.

  Snowflake.

  At the beginning, Holden visited every day, staying for hours, calling multiple times to check in. But as the months wore on, the visits became less frequent. Now I see him for a few minutes once a week, if that.

  He has others, I figure.

  Others he needs to keep an eye on.

  Other responsibilities.

  As if on cue, Holden glances at his watch from where he’s sitting on the coffee table in front of me, like he’s worried he’s already overstayed his time. “I should find a hotel for the night.”

  “You can just stay here,” I say, motioning down the hallway behind me. “You know where the spare room is.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he says. “There are rules.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure there are also rules against drinking and driving on the job.”

  Our situation has never exactly been by the book, so nothing was ever really set in stone about how he’s supposed to deal with me. In general, inspectors and witnesses aren’t supposed to fraternize, but it’s kind of hard to keep things strictly business when he took the reins as my temporary guardian.

  He stands up, but instead of heading for the door, he takes a step further into the living room, turning toward the hallway. He pauses there, staring down at me. “Why’d you cross out of the city limits this afternoon?”

  I shrug. “Looking for a change of scenery, I guess.”

  He doesn’t look like he buys my answer, but it’s the truth.

  “Get some rest, Gracie,” he says. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

  I offer him a smile in exchange for that piece of shit advice, knowing he means well. He might even actually believe it. He reaches over and gently squeezes my shoulder in a silent sort of ‘goodnight’ gesture before making his way back to the guest bedroom.

  I sit in silence once he’s gone, staring at the clock on the wall in the darkness.

  It’s almost midnight.

  Tomorrow doesn’t look so promising.

  ***

  My black comforter was spread out on the fire escape. I lay on my back on top of it, my knees pulled up, bare feet flat against the metal. Cody lies beside me, wedged against the railing. It wasn’t very comfortable, trying to lay out here together, but neither of us complained.

  Out loud, anyway.

  His soft sighs of exasperation told me how he was feeling. The scowl on his face was deep tonight. Fall had come upon us quickly. I had to head back to school the following week—my junior year at the private all-girls catholic academy my father insisted on sending me to—while Cody started his senior year at a local high school. He should’ve graduated the year before, but a string of suspensions derailed that. He jumped from school to school, getting kicked out for fighting as soon as he got admitted, before having no option left but to resort back to public education.

  Even then, they had a hard time finding one to admit him. He would have to travel to Queens every morning for classes, which might turn out for the best, considering his reputation in this neighborhood.

  “Do you ever wonder why they call it Hell’s Kitchen?”

  I wasn’t sure what prompted the question as it flowed from my lips. I could hear the bustle of the neighborhood below us. Somewhere, in those streets, my father was running loose. So was Cody’s, for that matter.

  I didn’t know what they were doing.

  I wondered if Cody did.

  “There’s a story on the street,” Cody said, “that it got its name because the neighborhood is the worst part of Hell … the hottest part. Hell’s Kitchen. I don’t know how true that is, but it sure as shit fits, considering Cormac runs the place.”

  I would’ve laughed, but I knew he wasn’t joking.

  “So does that make my father one of Satan’s minions?”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Is there any other way?”

  He paused. “No.”

  I stared straight up in the sky, mulling over his words. Cormac had probably hundreds of followers. The police called them the Hellions, a nickname the younger generation embraced. My father, on the other hand, scoffed at it, calling it insulting. He had been around since the beginning, since the day Cormac took control of Hell’s Kitchen. According to Cody, he was Cormac’s right hand man.

  It was a dark night, cloudless and cool. It was as if a blanket of black lay above us, too. Sometimes, I thought, it was hard to feel grounded when you couldn’t recognize the world around you. My eyes searched the skies, but I felt nothing spark inside of me. It was like we were trapped in a void. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I saw a star.”

  “Me, either,” Cody said. “I can’t remember the last time I actually looked for one.”

  We lay there some more, and I knew we were both looking for stars, looking for something beyond this existence and out into the greater universe, but just like me, he came up empty. It sort of made it feel like this was all there was.

  Like there was nothing outside of this life we had been given.

  We both wanted more, though. Cody had told me, one of the secrets we shared in the dark on my sixteenth birthday, the first time he told me he had fallen in love with me and I whispered those words right back. He said he didn’t want to be like his father … that he didn’t want to waste his life running these streets.

  He said he wanted out of Hell’s Kitchen.

  I said I wanted the same.

  “I guess that does it,” he said after a while. “Can’t see the Heavens so this must be Hell.”

  “Must be,” I mumbled in agreement, giving up on stargazing to snuggle up against him. I lay my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me. He smelled woodsy, and earthy, the pungent aroma of smoke lingering on his clothes and mixing with his cologne. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, breathing him in.

  He smelled like a world outside of this city.

  He shifted position, cupping my chin and pulling my face up toward him so he could kiss me. It was soft and sweet as always, his tongue meeting mine as his hands roamed. He caressed my face and neck before his hand drifted down to my waist, toying with the hem of my shirt for a moment. I felt his fingertips graze the bare skin along my side as he dipped beneath the fabric. He stroked my stomach, moving up, his hand slipping beneath the cup of my bra, pushing it out of the way to palm my breast.

  His thumb grazed across my nipple and I gasped, savoring his touch. This was what we did, the moments I lived for, when his hands were touching me, the only hands that ever touched me. It never went farther than this; he never pushed for more than just a stolen embrace.

  His lips found my neck, kissing lightly, running his tongue along my skin.

  I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked quietly.

  I was, but that wasn’t what gave me goose bumps right then. “I’m okay.”

  He sighed. “You should probably go in.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  I didn’t want him to leave.

  I didn’t want to spend another night by myself.

  I was so tired of it.

  I was only sixteen and three quarters and I was already drowning in solitude. I felt like I’d spent an entire lifetime alone. I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  “Come with me,” I whispered. “Let’s go inside together.”

  He pulled away to look at me, surprise on his face as he stared into my eyes. He never went inside. It was just the way it was. Cody had broken every rule ever forced upon him, even broken a few laws in his young life, but this rule he followed. Maybe it was a matter of respect. Maybe it was fear.

  Or maybe it was just because I’d never asked him to break it.

  Maybe that was what he had been waiting for.

  An invitation.

  Because he gave it ten seconds then—ten seconds of silence, of contemplation—before he removed his hand from my shirt. I thought he was going
to leave, that he was going to send me in alone. His expression was so serious.

  It made my insides curl.

  Cody motioned toward the open window. I climbed through, bringing my blanket with me as he got to his feet. I stood in the living room, straining my ears as he paused again. Ten more seconds. Ten seconds of silence. Ten seconds of contemplation. I listened for the sound of the rattling fire escape, expecting him to disappear. Instead, after those ten seconds passed, he came toward me, climbing through the window.

  His feet hit the wooden floor, and something inside of me sparked, what I couldn’t feel outside. Like we belonged …

  He stood there, looking around. My place was nowhere near the size of his. The Morans lived in a fancy apartment in the newest building in the neighborhood, the kind of place without rusty old fire escapes and creaky windows.

  For the first time in my life, standing in front of him, I was actually nervous.

  I wringed my hands together, biting my bottom lip, unsure of what to say, or do, or what we were even doing anymore, but as usual Cody knew.

  Cody always knew.

  Reaching over, he grabbed my hands, stopping my anxious fidgeting. Wordlessly, he pulled me from the living room, leading me straight back to my bedroom, not even asking me which one it was. “How do you know—?”

  “Just because I’ve never been inside doesn’t mean I don’t know the layout,” he said. “I see your shadow moving around the apartment when you’re alone.”

  From most people, that would probably sound creepy as fuck, but coming from him, it made my heart soar. He was always looking out for me, even when I didn’t realize it.

  My room was typical for someone my age, I supposed—clothes everywhere, shoes all over the floor. Shades of pink mixed with the darkest black, the walls covered in posters and things cut out of magazines. I didn’t have movie stars or singers—no, I had places. Places I wanted to go. Things I want to see. My walls were a visual bucket list of dreams.

  Cody’s eyes scanned them in the darkness. It was all things he knew. I told him everything. But still, I was nervous.