This story from Chester Holden recalls the mood of our first pandemic summer—the dread, the defiance, and also, strangely, the sense of possibility. If you have the time, be sure to listen to the author read his work!
Upton focused on the iconic and breathtaking view from Brooklyn Bridge Park until Jenny finally showed up well behind schedule. They exchanged socially distanced introductions, and she sat on the opposite end of the bench he occupied. Then, breaking the awkward silence which arose immediately after this, he assured her, “You know, no matter what happens, you’ll always be the first date I ever met masked in July.”
“That’s not funny,” said Jenny, frowning as though vindictively discovering herself on the wrong end of some elaborate and insensitive practical joke. “I thought you were supposed to be funny. Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never had enough nerve to get on stage but still somehow summoned enough courage to identify as a comedian on Tinder.”
Upton struggled to appear anything but charmed by such brazen, unapologetic callousness. “For your information,” he said, “I’ve been performing at small gigs and open mics for damn near six years now.”
“What a relief!” said Jenny, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. “At least you’re an honest failure.”
Upton briefly laughed before recovering his composure and asking, “Do you always play the bully on first dates, or did I somehow do something to bring such unladylike wrath on myself?”
“If you know a better way to scare off the weak,” said Jenny, “I’m all ears.”
Despite initially showing no reaction to this, Upton soon stood up and casually assessed his immediate surroundings. Finally, looking down at Jenny, he asked, “Whaddya say we stretch our legs a little?”
“Whatever,” said Jenny. “Just don’t go trying to hold my hand or anything too disgusting.” She followed Upton with increasing unease to a part of the park thick with trees and shrubbery. Then, abruptly stopping and evidently refusing to walk another step, she exclaimed, “You better not be bringing me to see some corpse you hid back here or any kind of pervert lunatic shit like that.”
Seeming in no way insulted, Upton removed a lighter and what Jenny eventually determined to be a pack of sparklers from the back pocket of his jeans. This sincerely disturbed her. “Dude,” she said, contorting her face with genuine concern, “you can’t have that kinda shit in Brooklyn. Did your mother drop you down a few too many cement stairs or what?”
Upton pulled a single sparkler out of the pack and returned it to his pocket without discernible emotion. “Listen,” he said, “I’ve been following the rules of this fucking completely uncalled for pandemic since the bitter beginning. But it’s Independence Day, for christ’s sake. And not you or basic common sense or anything else our good lord might throw my direction is gonna stop me from celebrating the most American way possible.”
Jenny smiled beneath her mask. “I see,” she said, “So let me make sure I’ve got this right. You brought these childish little fireworks to show off for some girl you’ve never met in a city that punishes such acts with a steeper fine than most of its citizens have any hope of saving in a year.”
“Precisely,” said Upton. He then bent down, and pushed the sparkler’s handle an inch or so into the ground before setting it alight and taking a big step back. Then, after observing the show for a short while, he added, “If you know a better way to scare off the soulless, I’m all ears.”
Upton soon realized he wouldn’t be receiving a response from Jenny and turned to find her utterly fixated on the sparkler’s intense, slow-burning flame. So, following a moment’s contemplation, he waved a hand in front of her and exclaimed, “Hello… Earth to Jenny! Is anybody home?”
Jenny responded after a short yet certainly suspicious time. “My bad,” she said. “As it just so happens, I dropped a half-tab of acid earlier. And don’t ask me how, but that shit has the funniest way of making the mundane magical.”
In spite of Upton’s best efforts to maintain a good poker face, Jenny sensed how troubled she’d made him with this unexpected revelation. So, narrowing her otherwise uncommonly wide eyes, she said. “I see how it is. Well, if a little day-tripping is all it takes for you to write off someone as crazy, you’re too fucking close-minded to keep from cramping my style anyway.” She then rolled up a short sleeve of her tie-dye shirt with one arm and defiantly raised the other to expose many long hairs bunched beneath it. “I bet you really think I’ve got a screw loose now,” she said with an indisputable sense of pride, “don’t you?”
Something about the unconventional authenticity of Jenny’s manic outburst and unshaved body, however, put Upton entirely at ease. And so, with effortless conviction, he assured her, “I find it unbelievably sexy how guiltlessly yourself you’re determined to be.”
Illuminated by the still burning sparkler, Jenny removed her mask and approached Upton as though eagerly anticipating something. Then, promptly becoming aggravated, she suggested, “You can feel free to kiss me anytime now, dumb shit.”
First Date in 2020