I was delivering with my twins the day my whole life crashed into the past I’d tried so hard to outrun. The New York City sky in late autumn is as fickle as a teenager, shifting from sun to rain in an instant. One minute the late-afternoon light was glinting off glass towers, the next a sudden downpour slammed down so hard it felt like the clouds had dropped straight onto the streets of the United States’ busiest city.
I barely had time to react. I swerved my battered little scooter toward the curb and slid it under the sparse shelter of a sycamore tree. Cold rain pelted my back through my thin delivery jacket as I fumbled in the storage compartment for my flimsy plastic poncho.
Behind me, strapped to the metal rack, the insulated delivery box held a stack of takeout containers and one precious plastic tub of chicken and rice soup. It was supposed to be my own dinner, but I had thrown it in with the other orders in case I needed something warm to hold me together. On the floorboard in front of me, squeezed side by side, my four-year-old twin boys, Leo and Noah, huddled together like two frightened kittens.
Their cheap little raincoats were no match for the storm. There had been a power outage at their daycare that afternoon, and the teachers had called every parent in a panic. Come pick up your kids early.
No heat, no lights. I’d biked across half of Manhattan to get them, then turned right back around and gone out again. I needed the money from these last few deliveries to pay our rent.
I couldn’t afford to cancel. Leo, the older by ten minutes and already oddly serious for his age, tugged the edge of his own raincoat closer over his brother’s shoulders. His dark eyes flicked up to me, shining with worry.
“Mom, are you cold?” he asked. I brushed raindrops off his cheek with the back of my hand and forced a smile. “Mommy’s fine,” I lied.
“You two stay put. As soon as I deliver this last order, we’ll go home and have dinner, okay?”
This delivery was for Sterling Group Tower, one of the most iconic high-rises in Midtown, known in the business pages as an economic fortress. The neighboring glass building mirrored the streetlights and taillights until the whole block looked like liquid neon.
The customer was an employee working late who had ordered chicken soup and several meals for his team. The app said the order was urgent, big tip expected if I made it on time. My boys needed winter coats.
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