Two women join the end of a long morning line in Zaro’s in Port Authority. They’re about the same age, tastefully disguised.
The first woman is exasperated, “They’re so slow!” She’s tall and impeccably dressed in a beigy, executive sort of way. She runs her fingers through her damp hair and shakes out her raincoat before draping it again over her arm.
The second woman is dressed for travel, a small roller bag by her side.
The executive turns to the traveler, “I’ve had the most awful commute, sheets of rain, the bus was late, my umbrella broke. I just can’t take anymore. Was your commute as bad as mine?”
The traveler smiles sympathetically. “No, sorry about that. Actually, I’m really good.”
“No one says that these days—and you’re just as wet as I am. Unbelievable.”
“Where did you come in from?” the traveler asks as she pushes her roller bag forward in line.
“Upper Montclair.”
“I’m heading to Newark, I couldn’t get a cab, so I walked over here to catch the bus.”
“Oh, right. I forget about that trick.”
“Rain or shine, I’m just happy to be in New York. You can do anything here, pop into a gallery or museum for a few hours, window shop, find any kind of music, great food. Lucky you. You have all of this anytime you want. I only get in once or twice a year these days.”
The executive’s frown lines soften. “You’re making me feel so much better. Everyone’s so isolated these days, hardly anyone goes anywhere for the fun of it anymore.”
“That’s the right word, isn’t it? New York is fun.”
The executive reaches the Zaro’s counter. “Raisin bagel, toasted, no butter, hot tea.”
“And I’ll have an everything bagel with salmon cream cheese, large black coffee. You can add a sliced tomato if you have it.”
Turning to the executive, the traveler says, “When I used to live in New York, I’d go to Zaro’s in Grand Central before work every day. I never did Starbucks for breakfast, too itty bitty to get me going.”
“What do you do?”
“I used to be in finance. Now I’m in the middle of changing things up. Why not, right?”
“Yes, why not. You make it sound easy. So, what’s the new thing?”
“It’s a cliché for sure, but I’ve been working on a novel. An idea came to me that I had to see through.”
“So, just like that, you quit your job and changed everything. Unbelievable. I have to ask, weren’t you scared about the money or…”
“Things not working out? I get that question a lot. When I was younger, I never played out every bad outcome in my mind. If I was drawn to it, I just did it. I didn’t over-think it.”
“Is that your secret to staying young? Acting like a young person?
“I suppose, maybe it’s my kind of a face-lift.”
“That’s funny. A new way to think about rejuvenation. How far have you gotten with your book?”
“It’s pretty much done.”
“Do you have a name for it?”
“I’m leaning toward Groundswell.”
“Hm. Do you have an agent?”
“That’s next.”
“Getting an agent is a tall order, let alone a publisher,” the executive warns.
The traveler smiles back as the executive studies her more intently. The executive wonders if the traveler is New York-interesting and worth more of her time or just plain foolish. The executive grabs her bagel bag and paper coffee cup from the counter. “Well, I’ve got to run. I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”
“Hey, it’s still pouring out. Take my umbrella. I won’t need it anymore today.”
“Are you sure? That’s so kind of you.”
“No one wants to eat a soggy bagel at their desk.”
“You’re so right.”
The executive looks at her watch again, impatiently. She digs into the side of her handbag. “Listen, I never do this. Here’s my card, send me your book. You changed my mood completely. Now it’s my turn.”
