Bittersweet Memories

By Erika M Szabo

Elana was born to a homeless, drug addict mother and left on the steps of St. Patrick Cathedral. Moving from one foster home to another, her life was a revolving door of shattered hopes and disappointments.

As soon as she felt an emotional connection to anyone, the foster kid in her quickly pushed the feeling away. The last thing Elana wanted to do was to get close to someone she would probably never see again. The necessary emotional defense served her well throughout her unpredictable life.

Until she met Luca.

Allowing them only a short time of happiness, cruel fate tore them apart. All she had was hope and half of the rosewood heart pendant he carved to hold onto.

Will they meet again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Golden Box Books Publishing
• Release date: Dec 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393891529

Erika M Szabo

Erika became an avid reader at a very early age, thanks to her dad who introduced her to many great books. Erika writes alternate history, romantic fantasy, magical realism novels as well as fun, educational, and bilingual books for children ages 4-12 about acceptance, friendship, family, and moral values such as accepting people with disabilities, dealing with bullies, and not judging others before getting to know them.

Book preview

Winter vacation

The hallways of NYU School of Medicine were buzzing with the chatter and shuffling of hundreds of students all eager to start their winter vacation. Most would be traveling to different states or abroad to visit family and loved ones for the holiday. But not Elana. She had a tradition of her own.

Ashley, noticing the not-so cheerful look on Elana’s usually happy face, gently touched her arm. Are you okay, Elana? You don’t really look like you’re in the Christmas spirit.

Elana’s lips curled into a faint smile. I’m fine. Just tired from studying for the big exam. I’ll see you after Christmas break, okay? The two hugged briefly before parting ways into the busy stream of traffic.

Suddenly, Elana heard Ashley yell her name from the other side of the hallway. I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas! Elana only smiled in return, waving at Ashley before turning the corner and heading outside.

Bracing herself against the bitter cold, Elana hailed a cab and headed uptown to her lonely Manhattan apartment. The driver whizzed through clusters of traffic, singing along to the radio. His raspy voice was way out of tune. I wouldn’t dare sing in public if I had a voice like you, Elana thought as she watched small tufts of snow starting to accumulate on the parked cars and sidewalk. The sight opened a flood of painful memories: a broken dam of faded smells, faces, and words that were lost in the moving sands of time.

This was a bittersweet holiday season for Elana. Though there were good memories attached to Christmas, there were also many in her past that she wished she could forget.

Twenty-two Years Ago

On that stormy Christmas Eve twenty-two years ago, a young woman trudged through the unforgivingly cold winds of downtown New York City with a bundle of rags held tightly to her chest. Glass beads of frozen tears clung to the exposed skin of her face. The woman, slightly dazed and clearly distraught, shuffled aimlessly through the snow that clotted the empty sidewalk.

She was uncertain how long she had been pushing her way through the whirling snow, but her raw cheeks were evidence of the stretch of time and the ferocity of the wind. To anyone driving by, she appeared to be just another homeless person: one of the city’s many untouchables caught in the fierce weather, trying to find shelter. They’d give her a callous look and go about their business.

The woman, guided by her numb feet, walked and walked until the dim light of a steeple shone through the flittering blankets of falling snowflakes. Slowly, she approached the steps leading up to the door and stopped.

I’m so sorry, she sobbed, lightly rocking the bundle of rags from side to side. I’m alone, and I have nowhere to go. You’ll be better off without me. Her soft crying was captured in the air as tufts of tiny ice beads—dissipating clouds of unfathomable despair. They would momentarily hover about her face like a thin mask before being swallowed up by the passing gusts of wind from the barren street.

Slowly, she knelt and set the bundle of rags carefully onto the cathedral step. With warm tears running cold as soon as they leaked down her trembling cheeks, she traced her footsteps back down the street and disappeared into the storm. Never to return.

A few minutes later, a priest of the church stepped out onto the front steps. Good Lord! It’s cold tonight, Father Brown, a tall, middle aged man murmured while tossing his long scarf over his shoulder. He shoved his boney hands into the pockets of his long coat and took a moment to silently view the whitewashed buildings with awe. They stood like monolithic snowdrifts, rows of naked windows gleaming with ice, like the eyes of a frozen spider.

Father Brown was on his way to a homeless shelter across town to help with the preparation of Christmas Day dinner. Having no family of his own, it brought him more joy to be surrounded