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At the heart of Pittsburgh, there’s no escaping the festive season. Lights of all colours line the streets, wrap and entwine through every tree, and draw the path from the market to the ice rink. A group of carollers sing faintly behind the chatter of families and couples that all weave around each other, gazing admirably at the displays. Comically large candy canes stick out from all angles, covered in a dusting of snow that remains as the sun had hid behind the clouds all day. Now, with the sun set and the artificial glow bringing the place to life, the atmosphere seems warmer even if it doesn’t translate to the shivering patrons.
In the midst of it all, Yolanda wraps herself deeper into her coat, drawing as much warmth from the teddy bear fabric as she can. Even with a long sleeve jumper underneath, gloves, and her trusty knitted bobble hat, the chill seeps through and she regrets not borrowing one of Emery’s scarves before she left. A squeal catches her attention from across the street. The sight of a couple laid out, victim to the snow, draws a chuckle from her and she shakes her head. How embarrassing . The snow sticks to the sides of the street from harried attempts to clear a safe path around the markets. It doesn’t stop some of the patches from hiding residual ice underneath, however, and Yolanda takes extra care to watch her step to avoid the same fate. As she does, she’s reminded of how much faith she’s put into her worn trainers. Stupidly, it’s all she bought with her on her trip, and she’s quickly regretting it as she continues her cautious shuffle.
With Emery getting ready for a night shift, Yolanda took it upon herself to step into the festivities. This is her final trip before moving to Pittsburgh for her new job, lugging the first of her belongings with her. She can’t say she’s over the moon at the thought of living and working with Emery but it’s just for a few weeks before her place is ready. She’s thankful, really, that it’s not a stranger she has to live with. But she will need to learn how to navigate Pittsburgh alone, with her shift on days meaning her and Emery will be ships passing. So here she tries, definitely not distracted by market stall trinkets and sparkly decor.
Dragging herself away from the crochet gingerbread people, she tries to rub some heat into her face before she loses all feeling in it. She claps her hands together, and it's then, when she's flapping about like a seal and not watching her step, that her foot slips.
Her stomach swoops, a flash of panic running through her when she realises there’s nothing to grab onto. Just as she’s about to at least cover her head – she does not want a concussion – strong arms latch onto her and she hears a surprised ' oh ’ in her ear as her back hits their chest. Yolanda takes a second to stop her heart from pounding in her ears. There’s her karma for laughing earlier. She inhales, hints of chocolate and peppermint hitting her nose, and plants her feet to right herself. A hand on her back lingers until Yolanda turns to face her saviour.
Oh, she thinks to herself. Wow.
She receives a hesitant smile from the woman and gets a bit lost in how bright her eyes are. Her nose is bitten pink from the cold but she’s better prepared for it than Yolanda; a beanie covers her ears and she has a scarf tucked into her olive chore coat with black boots to conquer the ice.
She’s shorter than Yolanda too and the latter’s mind drifts, takes some muscle under that coat to swoop in and save me from certain humiliation so swiftly. Her head tilts, musing. She’s staring now. Get it together, Yolanda. She clears her throat and lifts her chin, plasters on her most confident smile.
“Thank you, handsome.”
It’s either the reflection of a light or a blush that causes her rescuer’s face to redden. “No problem at all. It’s pretty treacherous out here. But, uh, I’m really sorry about…”
She gestures down, at Yolanda’s left shoe. Af first, Yolanda thinks she’s making some fucked up jab about her footwear choice but then she squints, spotting the dark liquid sinking into the top of it. Now she’s paying attention, there’s also a cup with a festive green pattern to the side where the rest of the drink seeps pathetically into the snow.
“I didn’t even notice,” she comments, glancing back up at the woman who seems way too distraught about Yolanda’s shitty shoes. “Honestly, it’ll wash out. Honest mistake. I appreciate you choosing me over the drink.”
“Yeah, of course.” the woman picks up the cup and drops it in the trash. Her eyes flicker across Yolanda’s face before resting somewhere near her shoulder. “Stay safe. Injuries are no fun. Especially this time of year.”
“Hold on,” Yolanda calls, raising a gloved hand before the woman can move past. “Does the hero of the hour have a name?”
“Trinity,” she responds and tucks her hands into her pockets, restless. Trinity , Yolanda plays around with the name in her head. Fuck it, it’s the holidays, she’s technically on vacation and wants to have a little fun. At the very least, she’ll have a story to tell Emery tomorrow.
“Well, Trinity , you’re not going to let me walk the rest of the way on my own, are you?” Yolanda inclines her head in the direction of the tree at the end of the street. “I might slip again. Let me replace your drink, at least.”
An incredulous look glances across Trinity’s face before she scrunches her face in consideration, eyeing the festive chaos around them. Whatever she sees must convince her, even when she subtly shakes her head to herself, her lips quirk up and she turns back to Yolanda. She squares her shoulders and offers her arm.
“Ok, but the drinks are on me.”
Yolanda’s smile hurts her frozen cheeks but she maintains it, slipping her arm through Trinity’s. A shiver runs through her now that they’re pressed together. Trinity looks over, brow pinched in concern and Yolanda smells the peppermint chocolate again when she speaks.
“Here.” Trinity detangles their arms, untucks her scarf from her coat and loops it around Yolanda’s neck, reaching up and around until it's snug. “Can’t have you freezing to death out here.”
It’s a priceless gift that Yolanda sinks into, stealing the warmth from the scarf that lingered from its owner. “Lifesaver.”
They begin a slow amble down the street, arm in arm, as seamless as the other couples around them. They reach another drinks stall and Trinity pays for a gingerbread hot chocolate for Yolanda and another peppermint one for herself. There’s a couple of spare tables under a tinsel lit canopy behind the stall and they snag a seat to avoid spilling these ones.
Yolanda rubs her hands over the top of her thighs once she’s seated in an attempt to stave off the chill. Cupping her drink, she takes a sip and exhales into the sky, watching her breath appear in a wispy vapour. It dissipates, and she looks back down in time to catch Trinity staring.
“Is it nice?”
Trinity blinks. “What?”
“Your drink,” Yolanda teases, “is it nice?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s,” Trinity sips enthusiastically, “it’s great. Better than the other one. So.”
As entertained as she is, Yolanda simply nods and continues to sip her own. When Trinity lifts her drink again, the beginnings of a tattoo peek out where her sleeve has ridden up. Before she can ask about it, her phone pings. It’s Emery.
Emery : are u alive
Yolanda scoffs lightly, shaking her head as she taps out a response.
Yolanda: yes. but i am haunting your ass if i get murdered by the charming stranger i met at the christmas market
Emery: sounds freaky
Then,
Emery : u serious?
Yolanda : dw loads of people around
Yolanda : nobody dies in the Christmas movies
Emery : fucking fantastic
“Sorry.” Yolanda grimaces and shoves her phone back into her pocket to address Trinity. “Just my friend checking in. Making sure I don’t get lost.” Or murdered, goes unspoken.
“Oh, you’re not from ‘round here?”
“Not yet. I’ll be moving here soon. Thought I’d get to know the area, the people ,” she responds, voice dipping into teasing territory. “So far I’d say they’re pretty friendly. Is it every day you sweep a woman off her feet with your heroics?”
“No, no. Strangely enough, not the weirdest thing to happen to me this week,” Trinity comments. “Definitely the most intriguing though.”
Yolanda raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing, huh? I’ll take it.” she looks out beyond the market, to the entertainers, the rides, the tree. “I won’t have time to see all of this before I leave this weekend. Clearly it’s best enjoyed with company anyway.” she waves a hand at the collection of groups milling about. “Doing it alone feels kind of redundant.”
“If you wanted to make a night of it, I’d be down,” Trinity offers. “It would suck to miss out on all this before you leave Pittsburgh. Plus,” her tongue darts over her lips, “you’re saving me from a night alone.”
Yolanda beams. “Then it’s settled.”
Trinity matches her with a relieved grin of her own and they finish their drinks before they stand, Trinity offering her hand. Yolanda welcomes the warmth and lets herself be gently pulled out from the canopy.
They stroll by a few more stalls. Yolanda stops at the confectionery one and asks the vendor to wrap a chunk of spiced fudge that she’ll leave for Emery before she leaves. Another stall sells playful designs printed onto clothes and mugs. She spots a superman in a Santa hat, hands on waist, flying above the words ‘Pittsburgh’s hero’, printed on a t-shirt. Ignoring Trinity’s bewildered look, she buys it and immediately offers the bag to Trinity.
“Because you were my hero tonight,” is all Yolanda says.
Trinity chuckles, running her hand across the fabric. “That’s cringe as fuck.” her eyes are lit up, though, and they meet Yolanda’s as she smiles from ear to ear. “I love it. Thanks.”
From that point onwards, Trinity isn’t shy about paying for everything they do. A ride on the carousel, some fresh donuts, a cup of glühwein to keep them warm. Even tickets to the last showing of a digital light show, nestled away inside a grotto. Yolanda barely has time to feel bad about it before the end of their night draws closer, groups thinning out, the sounds of carollers rising steadily above the quieting chatter. They bask in it as they look up at the tree, a party of lights swirling one hundred feet high. A couple twirl around the ice rink that surrounds it, twisting and striding in annoyingly impressive ways. Another group looks lucky to be on two feet, knuckles white as they grip the barrier like newborn foal.
“You wanna go?”
Yolanda balks at the thought. “I think I’ve taken enough risks on the ice for one day.”
Thankfully, Trinity doesn’t push, just nods and peaks at the time on her phone.
“It’s getting late, are you walk–”
“Hey there! Free polaroid?” A man with elf ears barrels into their bubble, not giving them a chance to answer before snapping a photo. It slides from the camera and he hands it to Yolanda. “Such a beautiful couple. Hope you enjoyed the market, don’t forget to leave a review!”
He’s gone as quickly as he came. Yolanda peeks at the picture. ‘Beautiful couple’ is one way to describe it, she supposes, if wide eyes and dropped jaws fit the ideal. While she’s a little prickly over the rude interruption, it’s a fitting photo to sum up their night. She drops it into Trinity’s bag, next to the superman tee.
“Now you have a goody bag to remember me by.”
“I won’t forget you,” Trinity promises. “Since I’m normally scrooge-ing around in my apartment, this is a really nice change.”
Yolanda arches her brow. “After all this, I wouldn’t peg you as the scrooge type.”
Trinity shrugs a shoulder. “Not my favourite time of year.”
“So you’re out here, with the lights and the carolling and,” she gestures in front of them with a laugh, “the tree. Just for me. I’m flattered. ”
Trinity playfully nudges Yolanda like she hasn’t been caught trying to impress a perfect stranger. “I might have lied earlier. I’m actually trying to escape ‘friendsmas’ for a bit. Everyone’s been talking about holiday plans all day.”
“No plans?”
Another shrug. “Unless another shift at the hospital counts?”
Oh . If Yolanda’s crush on this woman isn’t big enough. “Hospital?”
Trinity nods. “I’m a doctor at Pittsburgh Trauma. First year. What about you?”
“I’m actually a surgeon. Starting at Pittsburgh Trauma in the New Year.”
“Shit.” Trinity sputters, “I mean, cool. That’s awesome. It’s a great team up there, everyone in the ER loves them–”
“No, they don’t.”
“...no, they don’t,” Trinity acquiesces, “but it’s not personal, I think?”
Yolanda chuckles, “Come on.” she loops their arms together again and they drift away from the tree. “It’s not often personal. It’s a difference in work style. Surgeons like order, procedure, protocol. Emergency doctors throw all their tools at the wound to stem the bleed for us to organise.”
Trinity hums, considering. “I did a REBOA on my first day without a senior.”
“What the fuck?” Yolanda half-laughs, half-exclaims. “So you're insane. Good to know.”
“It was during an MCI. A bad one. I think everyone thought I wanted to do it for the sake of saying I did but… people were dying. Black tagged, shoved away. I had a way to save this one. So I did.”
“I hear you,” Yolanda assures. There's a haunted layer to Trinity's words, one that she's all too familiar with herself. It's not something either of them want to dwell on. Yolanda wants to soak it all up and throw away the sponge. “Still insane though.”
Trinity laughs. Yolanda pats herself on the back.
They continue up the street, passing stalls that pack up for the night in preparation for the busy weekend. The carolers have turned in too, leaving a gentle instrumental to emit from speakers dotted about the street, guiding its patrons home. As they approach a row of taxis, Yolanda is hit with a realization.
“Wait.” Yolanda stops, which yanks Trinity off balance slightly and they very nearly hit the snow. Trinity collects herself with a lot less fanfare than Yolanda’s earlier mishap and tightens her hold on Yolanda so they both stay upright. “You’re a first year, an intern , and you just paid for all of this?”
That ridiculously cute flush returns to Trinity’s cheeks. “Yeah, well, it was fun.”
Yolanda hums in agreement. “It was. Next time, I’ll treat you.”
“Next time?”
“Give me your phone.” Trinity does, and she enters her number and hands it back. “Want to share a taxi?”
“Oh, no, that's ok.” Trinity gestures behind her. “I'm not far from here. I'll stay on the phone with a friend,” she adds when Yolanda doesn't seem convinced, “I know self-defence.”
Yolanda relents. She catches Trinity's wrist before she strays too far and tugs. They fall into a clumsy hug, a little awkward and a little perfect all wrapped into one.
“You’ll message when you're home?” Yolanda asks as they pull apart.
“Sure,” Trinity agrees. She walks over to a taxi, greeting the driver with a nod and opens the door for Yolanda to get in. Yolanda slides in the backseat and quickly rolls down the window. Neither of them remember the scarf around Yolanda's neck as Trinity shuffles back to the sidewalk.
“Happy New Year,” she calls. Yolanda’s lips quirk upwards and she winks.
“I think it will be.”