Isaac
New York— December, six months ago
Sitting in the front row made it very hard to check my phone.Damn it!I could feel it vibrating in the pocket of my dress pants. Unable to do it discreetly, I resigned myself to wait for the current speaker to finish.
I focused on my surroundings to stop from fidgeting in my seat. The room was warm, almost a bit too warm, a stark contrast to the chilly temperatures of December in New York City outside.
It was less than a week to Christmas, so the room had been decorated with a Christmas tree and a few tasteful ornaments that hung from the ceiling. Christmas wasn’t my favorite holiday, but I had to admit, there was a certain charm to New York at this time of year.
I was incredibly lucky to be here at the Liberty LGBTQ Center in Greenwich Village and wanted to absorb every single piece of useful information I could get my hands on. I’d met Dorian and Jean-Paul Charles, the founders and Executive Directors, last summer in Portugal.
I’d organized a conference to raise some money and awareness for my LGBTQ Youth Center,Fundação Arco-Íris, or Rainbow Foundation as it translated into English. The couple happened to be in Portugal on holiday and came along when they saw the promotional activity we ran during Lisbon Pride. In addition to a generous donation, they’d also invited me to visit them in New York, which I was more than happy to accept.
It took me six long months of working overtime to save up for this trip, and the hard work was paying off already. I’d been in New York for three days, and in that time, I’d visited the center, shadowed Dorian and Jean-Paul, and had made numerous contacts.
I also spent a lot of time with the kids. Since it was both a shelter and a community center, some of the kids lived here full-time until they found permanent accommodation, while others used it socially during the day.
Lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to the present by the simultaneous vibrating of my phone and the audience standing up. Everyone was applauding the guest speaker, a guy that at twenty-seven was making a significant impression on the political scene of the city by supporting not only the LGBTQ cause but, in particular, the younger generation, campaigning for better access to education and jobs.
I took the opportunity to make my way out of the room as the next guest speaker was arriving on stage. My phone was still buzzing in my pocket, which could only mean one of two things. It had happened early, or there were complications.
Once outside the conference room, I looked around to see if I could find another room to take my call in privacy. I was at one end of the corridor, and it seemed that at the other I had the option to turn left or right.
I tried each door in turn. The first was locked, and so were the next two doors.
Finally, just before I reached the end of the corridor, I found one that opened. I slid my finger across the phone screen to answer the call as I entered the empty room and closed the door behind me.
“Alex! Any news? How is Joana?” I asked with urgency.
“Isaac,” Alex’s voice quavered with emotion “I’m a dad, Isaac, I’m a dad! She’s so tiny and perfect. God, you should have seen Joana. She was amazing.” Alex carried on talking. He sounded so happy like his family was finally complete. Struggling to contain my own emotions, I leaned against the wall and let myself slide down to the floor. I was an uncle now, and our small family of three had just increased by one. I was close to believing in Christmas miracles, and I didn’t even like Christmas.
“Alex, I’m so proud of you little brother. You’re going to be a great dad. I can’t wait to meet my niece. I wish I were there,”
Sofia wasn’t due to arrive until the New Year, so I knew taking this trip had been a gamble. It was also an opportunity I couldn’t have missed. “Send me some pictures when you can, okay? I’ll be home in a few days.”
We said our goodbyes, and I got up from the floor, wiping the tears that had run down my face. I put the phone back in my pocket thinking that it would be nice if I had enough time to do some additional Christmas shopping before I left.
It was only then that I looked properly at my surroundings. The room wasn’t big, it could accommodate maybe twenty people, but what caught my eye was the artwork on the walls. There were a few colorful paintings and pencil drawings, some of buildings and some of people on the streets. I needed to get back to the conference, but I made a mental note to ask Jean-Paul about them.
The lights went out as soon as I walked toward the door. “What the—” I blurted, even though I knew no one could hear me. I hadn’t stopped that far from the door, so it took me only a few steps to locate the handle. I turned it, but it was stuck. I pulled on the door a few times, but it didn’t budge.
Shit. What the hell do I do now?Hoping that someone would check the rooms after the conference finished, I resigned myself to wait. The room wasn’t completely dark. There was light from the hall coming in from under the door and also through windows that ran down the side of the building.
Unfortunately, they were too high for me to reach, and since I was on the third floor, I wasn’t taking chances at trying to jump out, even if I could reach them.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d stayed in there until I detected the faint smell of burning and saw smoke coming from under the door. I moved away from it once I began to see more and more smoke seeping in. I was stuck. The only way out was where the smoke was coming from, and no one knew I was in here. I went down on the floor, using the small amount of light to help me make my way toward the back of the room, trying to stay as low down as I could.
I heard the smoke alarm going off. It was so loud I couldn’t hear if there was anyone outside. The smoke was getting thicker and pouring in faster. I knew that I needed to make my presence known before it was too late. The smoke burned in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
My natural reaction was to cough, but then it was hard to take in any clean air. My eyes were watering from the smoke, and I knew that soon, I wouldn’t be able to see at all.
I took off my shirt and used it to cover my mouth and nose. Hopefully, it would help keep the smoke inhalation to a minimum. I walked to the door and started banging on it and tried my best to shout through the shirt. Although the smell and smoke were both indications of a fire somewhere in the building, I couldn’t feel any heat coming from the door or raising the temperature inside the room. My lungs, however, felt like they were on fire. I was struggling to breathe, and my arm was getting tired from banging over and over on the door.
I sat back on the floor near the rooms only exit, and as my breaths became harder and harder to come by, I felt myself slip into unconsciousness.
