Narration in third person:
A few hours later...
He turned his green eyes to her who gave him an excited look when he arrived with hot dogs, hot dogs. People passed by without realizing who she was, he thought it was fantastic the way she laughed at that.
— Why did that woman treat you like that? — He looked over her shoulder, she looked around suspiciously at the bangs of her platinum blond wig, and her green scarf.
— Well, she said it was my temper, or accusing me of pushing Sebastian away from her. — Penelope bowed her head. — But deep down I knew it was because of my color, she never admitted her perfect son married a black Latina. Sebastian doesn't speak to her to this day, and for that I feel guilty. — Her chest rose in a deep breath, she let out air. — However, when I hit rock bottom I only gave her the pretext to hate me more...it doesn't matter now.
— The next time I see her talk to you like that, I'll learn it by rote.
— She would be out in less than two minutes David, Lady Helena would not spend an evening in the chair with all those contacts. — She sipped lemon soda, feeling the wind on her face.
— How did it all go for you? I mean... how did I get out of the deep end?
I sat up in my seat thinking about it all, and brushed the unruly strands of hair out of my eyes, feeling my nose almost freeze.
— That's the thing, I couldn't do it. Well, not quite! What outsiders often see as a "happy ending". It is only the beginning of the battle. Addicted people cannot be cured by magic. Even more so when you go off the deep end, get too involved with the addiction.
I blinked, seeing the sparkle in his eyes fade, a look of sadness came over him. Still, he seemed to pay attention to every word I said, I continued to blurt out.
— It's a battle day after day. A lot of people like to romanticize it, believe me! I've seen it up close. You don't want to entwine your life with it, believe me, nobody does, but it just happens, one bottle and then another, and you find yourself in the vice. I can't imagine what I would be without my family.
A tear ran down her cheek, he wiped it away with his right thumb slowly, his eyes meeting and his stomach reminded him of a strange sensation that chilled the back of his neck, ''It must be the cold.'' He thought.
And it was right there, right there, that David realized half unintentionally that he ended up pushing away everyone most important in his life, simply because he didn't want to let anyone be part of the daily struggles he waged against himself in an attempt to survive the heavy days, and there was someone allowing himself to talk about something so personal with someone he had known for days.
What made him stop and admire her, staring for a second, his gaze ignoring the people walking around, the atmosphere, for a moment it was only Penelope that his vision capo would want to look at.
— What? — She drew her eyebrows together, intrigued by the look on his face, his seriousness.
— I can't imagine you at the bottom of the can, it hurts me just to think about it. — He uncrossed his arms over his chest. — You're too strong to talk about it so openly.
— Believe me, I'm only here because I wasn't alone in those moments. — I drank the rest of the lemon soda and turned to face him on the bench. — But, I've done a lot of bad things. Don't let that little face fool you.
She bit into the hot dog, chewing with her mouth open, he laughed, David had confessed that he hated it when she did that, he laughed.
— This is disgusting!
She stood silently watching him eat the hot dog as if it were something new, to him everyday New York was boring, but with her everything tasted new, different, the cars, trucks, motorcycles and bicycles seemed brighter, even the people prettier.
— Come on, I'll take you home. You're freezing! I don't want to see you sick. — He stood up, taking off his leather jacket, and slung it over her shoulders, who watched him with shining eyes. — Here, take my jacket, okay?
— So, is this a white flag? No more fighting. — Her gold rings dangled in her ears.
— No, but fighting. — David scratched his eyebrow with his right thumb, then held out his free hand to her. — Friends?
— Friends. — between chews, she coughed, trying not to ask why David's face was different. — Are you blushing?
— No, I'm not. — He shook his head, pressing his palms together on his lap. — It must be the sun.
— David, it's winter!
He shrugged, leaning back in his seat, his hair flying, doing his best not to become a red tomato, she couldn't help herself and laughed.
— You know, I kind of need a friend right now.
— I promise to be a good friend.
Snow invaded her face as well as the cold air in her lungs, she wiped it off slowly, and he smiled, wiping her hair as it swayed on the Central Park bench.
— No, don't do that. — She pulled her mouth together, and looked down. — Don't promise me! Just be there when you can when I need you, please. Too many people have promised me that and left, I don't need promises.
— I don't need any promises. I know the perfect way to seal this friendship. — He pointed to the roller rink, she laughed.
Suddenly they were skating, David was imitating some lines from her movie, and somehow it made her laugh, his manner relaxed, she behind him hugged him and they spun like an aimless merry-go-round, his right leg slipping.
He grabbed her waist, making her fall together on top of him, their laughter was mixed between groans of pain, especially from David as he felt the impact of his back from the cold ground.
— Bad idea, I should have suggested a hot chocolate.
— No, I think it was perfect. — His pupil dilated the moment he said this.
That night they both slept smiling, it was wonderful to suddenly make connections like that. As she got up David's work cell phone rang, he answered it and leaned on her as she took off her skates, when he hung up Penelope noticed that serious David was back.
— Penelope, we have to go! — He said taking her hand firmly.
She looked to the side. — Where to? What's wrong, David?
— I have to go to the police station, Katie has arrested the sniper who shot Samantha.