Bloody Valentine (Blue Bloods 5.50)

“You were hungry,” Freya observed, pulling up her knees to her chin.

He nodded and wiped his hands with a linen napkin. He watched as she ate her eggs slowly, savoring every bite. “Tell me about her,” Freya said, licking her fork.

“She was my best friend.” He told her everything about his friendship with Schuyler from the beginning to the bittersweet end. He found that with Freya, he could talk about Schuyler without feeling pain. He laughed and reveled in the memories. Oliver talked into the late morning hours. He dimly remembered helping with the dishes, and then falling asleep in her bed.

“You are too young to be so lost and so bereaved,” Freya had whispered, before he closed his eyes.

When he woke up later that afternoon, he had his arms around her.

FOUR

Under New Ownership

Oliver went back to school and to his life. He felt better than he had in weeks, and he was looking forward to seeing Freya again. She had been hard to reach, neither picking up her phone nor returning his calls, but school and Repository work had kept him busy. It wasn’t until a week later that he returned to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge.

He noticed there was something different about the place as soon as he arrived. For one, there was a bouncer at the door with a flashlight who glared at his fake ID.

“Hawaii, huh?” the big gorilla asked skeptically.

“Look, I don’t want a drink. I’m just here to see Freya.”

“No one here by that name.”

“C’mon, man.”

“You can ask Mack, but he won’t tell you different,” the bouncer said, handing him back his ID. “But order a drink and you’re out of here.”

Oliver nodded his thanks and entered the bar. The bouncer wasn’t the only thing new. There were three bartenders behind the counter now. Two old men wearing bow ties, and a pretty girl who had the steely beauty of an aspiring actress but none of Freya’s charm. Even the crowd was different—polished and sleek in designer duds as they tilted back pastel-colored drinks in martini glasses. There was a leather-bound menu with brand-name spirits.

It was a sea of strangers. Where were the arguing tabloid journalists, the old men with long faces, the young kids at the dartboard? Speaking of, where was the dartboard? And the pool table? Sure, the Christmas lights were still up, but now there was a mechanical singing Santa, and instead of being infused with an offbeat, nostalgic charm akin to a well-worn watering hole, the Holiday looked like a plastic replica of what it had been.

Oliver shook his head and fought his way to a fancy bar stool. He ordered a sparkling water and waited. Even if the Holiday had changed, Freya was always here. She had to be.

Hours passed. Customers left. The bartenders glared at him. But Oliver sat there until last call.

FIVE

Love and Courage

Oliver did not know how long he waited, standing on the sidewalk with a bouquet of lilies, but around four in the morning, she finally arrived. She was still wearing the puffy flak jacket from the other night, but this time she had kept the hood down, and her curly hair danced in the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, and Oliver was relieved to notice she did not sound angry, only mildly amused. “Hold this,” she said, handing him her grocery bag as she removed her keys from her purse.

“I waited for you at the Holiday. You never showed,” he said. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not want to see me?”

Freya shook her head and unlocked the main door. They walked up the narrow staircase. “How did you find me?” she asked, as she led the way into her apartment.

Oliver crinkled his brow. It had been difficult. He had been sure she lived on Seventh Street and Avenue C. But he had walked the entire block and not come across the Korean deli or the shabby tenement building with the red awning. He had all but given up when he realized it was right in front of him. How had he not noticed before?

“I don’t know, really.” Oliver settled into one of the cozy chairs. “What happened to the Holiday? It’s different. You’re not there.”

“I sold it. I’m moving.”

“Why?”

“It was time,” she said. She crossed her arms. “You look better.”

“Thanks to you,” he said.