“What I said or the bagel?” I winked then forked up another small bite.
“Both,” he replied, wiping at his full lips to clear the butter from them. Oh to be a napkin… “Guess it’s my turn?” I bobbed my head. “Well, I’m the head dresser at Willing’s department store and have been for the past nine years. I started out there right after I graduated with a degree in graphic design about twenty years ago.” I did some quick math. Oh my, he was in his early forties. With no wedding band. “I’ve never been married,” he interjected. My sight flipped up from his left hand as my cheeks warmed. “Although I was with someone for ten years. He moved to Germany a few years ago. It was time. We’d drifted apart years before. We both should have ended it before we had but it was comfortable, you know.”
“Not really. I’ve never had a long term. I’d love to, I think I’d be an excellent candidate but it’s been hard with my mental issues.”
“I heard Mona saying you needed to get back on your meds,” he softly replied, keeping our personal conversation to us even in a packed deli.
“Yeah, she’s like a mother hen. I was recently diagnosed with what they term an unspecified bipolar disorder which totally shocked me because… well, I’d always thought bipolar was massive highs and lows that last for months. But mine is like this whacky daily roller coaster ride. One day I’m up the next I’m down. And nothing massive, like weeks under the covers or writing a book in two days. But when I’m in a manic swing I tend to make bad judgement calls.”
“Like accusing me of stealing your ideas?” His expression was a tender one. He wasn’t being sarcastic he was really interested.
“Yeah, like that. Or throwing snowballs at you. It’s worse when I’m stressed and I’ve been super stressed the past week.” I paused to take a sip of coffee followed by another bite of bagel. “Sometimes I tend to develop emotional attachments too quickly and that’s when I get walked on by men. The downswings are rapid, and sometimes I just feel really sad for no discernible reason. I’d be watching TV feeling fine then wham I’m crying. That was like my normal for years, and my mother thought it was some sort of hormone imbalance. She honestly thought I had too much estrogen, which was why I was flouncy and liked to kiss boys and acted like I was PMS Donna all the time.”
“Bless her heart,” Chet said in a rolling Southern accent that made my jingle berries grow heavy.
“Yeah, I know. She’s trying though. Anyway, it was only the past year that my doctor finally began listening to me and started probing into what could be causing these mood swings. My hormones are fine by the way but my brain not so much. So we’ve been working with meds, trying this and that. Pick a blue or a pink and see what kind of shit happens after a week or two. This yellow tablet I’m taking now wipes me out mentally. Leaves me foggy all the time, so I stopped taking it so I could do this window dressing. I don’t have a degree like you. I just kind of fell into it and loved it. So yeah.” I shrugged. “That’s the Jakob French story in a nutshell.”
“Thank you for sharing. That must have been hard.”
“Actually, no, you’re really easy to talk with. And I’m not ashamed of having bipolar. My brain just needs medication, just like you do for hypertension or diabetes or whatever else ails you.”
“It is hypertension. Good call. My cousin Marcus is bipolar as well, only his was those deep valleys and super high peaks that went on for months, or even years. He went undiagnosed until he was in his forties.”
“I’m glad he got help. I’m really super sorry for that whole thing last night.”
He waved my apology off. “No need to apologize. Our theme’s have been quite similar the past few years. Probably we’ve both been picking up ideas from current trends. I shouldn’t have engaged. That just made things worse.”
The bells over the door rang out. I craned my head to glance around and saw that there was a line for a table that ran out onto 5th Avenue.
“Man it’s crazy in here.” I knew we should eat faster and talk less to free up a table, but I was enjoying myself. Chet was the easiest person to talk to that I’d met in ages. Even my new therapist wasn’t able to get me to open up as he did.
“We should hurry up a bit. I’m sure you want to get home and get some rest. I know I’m exhausted.” I took note that his mouth was saying one thing but his pretty brown eyes were saying something else. Still he was right. I was tired. Way past tired to be honest. So we made small talk as we polished off our meal. We split the check then pocketed the receipts in case Officer Delancey came by to check on us, which I was sure he would.
Bundled back up, we pushed out into the cold. A winter wind whipped past us, the banners attached to the streetlights snapping sharply.
“I’ll walk you to the subway,” he said, his hand lightly settling on my back as we weaved our way through the mobs. Chit chat died off as we made our way along. “I wonder where this wind came from. Feels like it’s off an iceberg!”
Snowflakes blew sideways and into our faces. “I bet they’re having one hell of a time with those balloons. Want to go see? Just a quick peek then we’ll head home and sleep for the rest of the day.”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Oh please say yes. I’ll be a good boy the rest of the year if you just say yes Chet.
“I’d love to.” Someone jostled us apart. Chet reached around the rude dude and offered me his hand. I slid my palm over his and the cold wind suddenly seemed less frosty. Long fingers meshed with mine, we made our way to the parade, wiggling in among the hordes, to find a decent viewing spot by a news van. A marching band arrived playing “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” right before a giant balloon of a famous cartoon cat came around the corner.
“They’re going to end up in the Hudson!” Chet shouted over the band and the wind as the balloon and its handlers came marching past. They had all they could do to keep the humongous orange tabby from pulling them along instead of the other way around. Chet held my hand tightly and we stayed there for over an hour, commenting on the parade as it slowly moved by.
“I’m freezing. Let’s go find a coffee shop,” Chet suggested and I was all on for that. We left the parade, our spots being filled in instantly, and walked along checking out the other window displays. Chet was really knowledgeable about what worked and didn’t when it came to visual merchandising. Guess a college degree really did help. All my designs were just things that popped into my head, but as we walked along in search of coffee, I picked up a lot of tidbits of information such as how to use lighting to its best advantage and making sure my windows fit with the stores brand image.
When we found a coffee shop we rushed inside, bought two huge dark mocha lattes, and then hurried back outside to look at more windows. We walked for blocks and blocks, skirting Times Square, and stopping to enjoy windows that ranged from fanciful to steampunk clockworks. Tiny mice helping to decorate towering trees to wild animals to toy land towns. Anything that a person could imagine could be found in those amazing storefronts. I was jazzed, excited to create more windows that children and adults would stare at with stars in their eyes.