"Damn!" Justine grabbed her phone and flung it at the alarm. "Shut up!" The phone started to whine, pain vibrated in her ears. Hung over, her mascara smeared, her hair still curled, in knots, looking like an experiment in new wave design. She moaned. Her plan to arrive at work on time was ruined.

Justine rolled over and flopped her feet to the floor. She shuffled to the bathroom, scaring herself, with her ragged reflection in the mirror. Averting her eyes, she said, "If I live, I’ll never do this again."

"What happened to you?" Maggie stood at the door, peering in, looking more like a concerned mother than a room-mate.

"A long series of mistakes, starting in Greenwich Village. I was out searching for the sound again. Is one decent blues club too much to ask for?"

Maggie looked away. "I don't think it’s the blues you are looking for. You’ve been out to lunch, ever since that deadbeat sax player tickled your ivories. I'm through lecturing. I'm not babysitting anymore."

Justine looked pitiful, brushing her teeth with her index finger. "Maybe you’re right, but it is my life."

Justine was out of control. "He’s gone, forever." Ben had been so perfect, so calm, cool, even when she had to go away for work. Until one night he just disappeared, not telling her anything, no note, no explanation - almost like he never existed.

“Can’t you just pretend he’s dead?”

Justine turned slowly, Maggie stood still, staring at her. "What I need is a day away from New York, so I can think. A place with no blues clubs. Its so haunting, I don’t just hear the music I feel it, him, life the way it was."

Maggie scowled. "No more musicians, or dank coffee houses.” Maggie took a sip of coffee.

"Its not the coffee it’s the champagne that wrecks me." Justine sighed.

Relief crossed Maggie’s face. "I’ll call you in sick, we’ll go somewhere, quiet."

Justine smiled softly. "I know you care, but I need this time alone, to think"

Maggie handed her the coffee. "It’s your nightmare, do what you have to do."

She took a long hot shower, washed away the night, took a blow dryer and de-curled her hair, into long straight silky perfection. She let the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do, relax her. She dressed casual, in jeans, a sweater and hiking boots. Maggie was just leaving when she entered the living room.

"No more blues musicians?" Maggie dials Justine’s cell phone, A BB king tune, Woke up this morning and my baby was gone, blares.

"Change it, life is sad enough without singing the blues.” Maggie sounded more concerned than bitchy.

"I’m changing it to Reggae. Don’t worry be happy. I know you are right, but old habits are hard to break.” Justine paused, looking up at her as she closed the cell phone. "Thank you for listening to me. I know I haven’t been easy to live with.

"They should do away with men." Maggie reaches for the doorknob.

"You mean all men, even Mike?" Justine laughed. He was perfect and all Maggie’s.

"Well we wouldn’t want to waste one like him" Her roommate took a deep breath, sighed and winked a knowing wink. Then disappeared out the door, with one last remark “Be good. I’ll see you, when I see you.”

Half an hour later Justine is standing on the number 5 subway on her way to the Staten Island ferry. When she was younger, whenever she needed to get away, she would ride the ferry. It was always comforting to ride the waves and look out at the glistening water. No cabs, ambulances, fire truck sirens, just far enough away from the city, to be able to hear herself think.

First she had to get there. Every stop the subway made, people would squeeze in pushing and shoving. She pulled her sweater tight around her body, chilled from the October air, she remembered the ferry rides and how cold they are and hoped she dressed warm enough. "You want a seat?” A polite man made room for her on the seat next to him.

“No thanks! I prefer to stand.” She shakes head, unused to the feeling of being treated like a lady. Maggie would of thanked him, and taken the seat, without even thinking about it. Justine’s point of view is nothings for free. Even a seat on the subway, has strings. ”Sure you don’t want a seat?” "No, I’m fine." She moves farther away. He raises his voice and continues to talk to her, obviously ignoring, her displeasure. “We’re are we going?”

She smirks, with attitude, "We aren’t going anywhere…"

The man's brown eyes, dance in amusement and she longs to scratch them out. "How about this, miss you take the seat and I'll take the breast building exercise machine."

Amused, she turns and really looks at him. His droopy brown eyes look soft and gentle. He is lightly tanned and his sandy hair is curly but contained.

He gets up in one swoop, smiles, reaches around her body, grabbing a pulley to keep from falling on her. His cologne is intoxicating, she inches her way to the seat. Something in his eyes, electrifies her, a part of her she doesn’t know seems to recognize him. She tries to keep from blushing, ashamed at what she feels. "I'm Max Baker. And you are?"

Suddenly she didn’t trust herself, she wondered how a man she had never met could have such control over her emotions. No man, not even Jason, had that kind of control over her. Stuttering, she said, "I'm Justine" She cleared her throat, pretending to cough. Thinking any moment she would start to talk nonsense. And sure enough, she did.”. Thank you for the seat, if you want it back, I’ll get up. It all came out in one breathless sentence.

Max’s condescending laughter brought her back to her senses.

She decided the best retaliation would be silence.

“I’ve been watching you, since you got on. Beautiful, smart sexy, obviously not in a hurry to get anywhere. This is my first time in New York. I could really use a guide, someone to show me the sights.”

“Aha, thats it! You don’t know me, you’ve barely spent ten minutes with me, and now you’re trying to pick me up? Unbelievable.”.

Max’s hand shook as he ran it through his hair. His eyes were opened wide not hiding his anger. “Pardon my French, but that’s bullshit. I promise you, that thought never entered my mind.

Hell, I don’t even like New York, now I remember why. This was Emily’s dream.

You remind me of her. Strong-headed, independent, stubborn and paranoid” He waited a moment to see her reaction. She sits speechless, staring. “Emily was my wife” He stopped.

“Was?” Justine’s voice didn’t echo her anger.

“She died, last month. One day she was there....” His voice trailed off

“I’m sorry Max.” She whispered. Just like Jason she thought, here and then gone.

“When we met, Emily tried to avoid me. She said I would keep her from her dream. She always wanted to see New York. We fell in love, and she was right, her dream was set aside. I took this trip in her memory, in hopes of making amends to her somehow. I don’t know....”

Her heart fluttered, with love and compassion. She'd never felt so much sadness that wasn’t her own. For a moment she felt jealous of poor departed Emily.

A tear formed in the corner of her eye blurring her vision. It felt cool as it rolled down her heated cheeks.

"Staten Island Ferry" She rubbed the tear away with her sweater sleeve. He didn't say anything so she took his hand and led him off the subway, feeling safe, and secure in his grief.

She pulled him along at a New York break-neck speed. Suddenly it didn’t matter about her blues singer. His hand felt strong under hers, warming her, showing her heart life again.

She'd been engulfed in such anger, and pain for so long. She knew nothing about this man, only that he too was in pain. This beautiful man was hurt, and by helping him it eased her pain.

She stared up at the ferry just pulling in. “ If we want to get a seat facing the harbor we have to push and shove our way in. “ She pulled harder on his arm yanking him in quick jerks.

“Easy, I need that arm for work.” He smiled. He was glad he’d found her. The thought of seeing the Brooklyn Bridge, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty without Emily was overwhelmingly depressing. She had talked about it for so long. Max bit his lip trying to stifle tears, they always started this way, shooting out like a fountain turning his knees to gelatin. If not for Justine pulling him along, he would have collapsed in a pile of grief.

Instead, she strengthened him, gave him energy, he needed this trip for closure. Yet he had feelings for this woman a stranger.

She plopped down on the bench, there was just enough room them. The Ferry seemed to be bursting at the seams with people.

His eyes searched into hers. "How long does this take . . . . I don’t like crowds." His teeth chattered in the cold, and he pulled his shirt collar up and around his neck.

She leaned closer to him shivering against him. She could tell he wasn’t from a northern state. They warmed each others bodies without saying anything. Like it was a natural everyday thing. The fresh air felt clean unpolluted from noise and grime. Each time a sight came in view, she pointed it out to him. They stopped shivering, in silence, each knowing that it was just one day, but a day they both needed.

The Ferry turned and headed back to the city. He talked about Emily. How she had a great laugh, how she couldn’t cook but he loved her anyway. She didn’t speak of Jason. After all he was just a coward who disappeared. He chose to leave. Emily died in a horrible accident. How could her pain compare to that of his?

She turned her head towards him, brought her lips to his and kissed him before he knew what was happening. The kiss was quick, spontaneous, tongues doing a tango of need.

She regretted it immediately. But she couldn't help herself. She was living for the moment.

Then Max sighed, and pulled away. His guilt was greater, he still grieved for Emily and felt he was betraying her memory.

Shocked at what she had done, she cleared her throat. Lowly, she murmured, "I'm sorry, I had no right to . . . ."

He shook his head. "Don’t be" He stroked her arm "Its just as much my fault. I think we both felt the attraction."

A smile crossed his lips. Justine recognized the smile, somehow it was Jason. Not in person but the smile. "I feel like I know you." He pulled her head back on his chest his heart was beating in rhythm with hers.

She smiled back, more relaxed. He caressed her arm. "You remind me of her too."

Justine sighed, snuggled her head into his shirt, inhaled his cologne. In a deep, sexy voice he said, "I'm not from the North."

"No?" She pretended she didn’t know. "Where are you from?"

"I’m a blues singer from New Orleans"

She was taken back for a moment. Either this was the best joke anyone had ever played on her or it was destiny. "Tell me you don’t play sax."

His cell phone rang to the tune of B.B. King’s Woke up This Morning and My Baby Was Gone, before he had a chance to answer her question. “Yes, I’ll be home tonight, have someone pick me up the airport. The redeye after midnight. Sounds good I’ll see you then. What were you saying Justine?”

“Nothing, its just nothing.” They lurched forward as the Ferry docked.

“Thank you Justine. I never could of done this without you.” He leaned over and kissed her softly.

“Goodbye Max. “ She stood and watched as he entered a taxi never looking back as it pulled away.