Impossibly enough, New York became that much more busy, and crowded during the daytime. The whole metropolis nearly busting at it's seams, about to split open. Everyone trekking along their own paths, thousands of yellow taxi's moving along the intersections, car horns going off every other second. So much was going on at once.
The roads were constantly at a standstill, deadlocked with traffic as far as the eye could see. The blaring volume from vehicles, millions of people, and city life made you crave silence in a way that you never knew before. The intensity, and level of sound so buoyant, and shrill that it almost reminded me of the airstrikes that I went through during the war.
The skyscrapers felt like they were leaning in, about to devour you whole, and puffs of white smog ascended from the steam grates. Flocks of pigeons native to the island dove down throughout the buildings, and landed elegantly along the powerlines.
Even in the daytime the sky looked muddled, and blurry. The white clouds creasing together with the pale blue atmosphere above.
Last night we ended up not going to sleep at all, the being in a coma like state for seventy years, astonishingly enough, made me never tired.
The second it began to get bright out Steve, and I left the Avengers Tower, and we've been exploring ever since. With me the mixture of a tourist, and a traveler, admiring the new world yet judging it as well, and Steve my loyal guide. Filling me in on all of the events, incidents, major life changes, and phenomenons that occurred after 1945.
Combing through each day, year, and decade with the dexterous knowledge of someone who has been a historian for a long, long time. His brain snatching up all of the information that I had missed like a sponge, and dispensing each one. I listened intently, completely enthralled like I was a child, and he my teacher.
So much had happened that my head literally hurt sucking in all of the info, but I didn't mind. It was captivating just listening to Steve ramble on ceaselessly, and even amidst the colossal chaos that was New York, my main focus was on him.
He was smiling through his words, thoroughly enjoying a brief window of opportunity away from the own chaos that he had to deal with. I could see it, although his blue pools remained lively, his smile remained bright, and his friendly effervescence hadn't dwindled out that there were layers of stress intertwined. The strain of being a hero, a protector, the feeling of constantly looking over his shoulder prepared for what "maybe" each day, every minute... It must be a lot of pressure, and if I could be his window away for just a little while then I was glad.
Steve was one of the few people in this world who deserved peace, happiness, and love. Three things that get stolen from him continuously.
He told me about everything, trying to dwell on the happier, exciting topics like how Howard Stark did end up creating a flying car even though his creation at the Stark Expo in 1943 failed. He also told me about the Avengers, and tried, undoubtedly for my sake to make everything a glass half full thing rather than half empty.
Though the paper thin charade of a sugar-coated existence never lasts as long as people would like it to. Seeing things through rose colored glasses usually break easily, not by choice, but because someone else shatters the glass for you.
"There's a Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian too. You're in it," Steve explained. "I'm sure the historians over there would be overjoyed to have your old combat outfit."
"They can have it. I don't think I'll be needing it anymore." I said, remembering that I had already the three main things that I wanted from it.
"Great, I'll have Tony ship it over there then. We should visit the exhibit soon." Steve commented, standing beneath the One Times Square building where the famous New Year's ball drops every year, and I remembered the ball drop hiatus between 1942, and 1943 due to lighting restrictions because of the war.
"Is he in the exhibit too?" I questioned, my words heavy, and he replied with a quick "Yes" like ripping off a band-aid.
"Then I think it'll actually be awhile before I'm able to go with you." I responded, my tone rough around the edges, and Steve stared at me with nothing, but concern.
"Still can't say his name?"
That did it. Causing the warning threat of tears, but I bit my bottom lip, fighting back.
"If I do then I'll fall apart completely, Steve. I can't even say my own name because his last name is attached to it. Until I'm ready I'm just Rebecca, or Becky, nothing more. Nothing else."
"But, you still have your wedding ring on though." Steve urged, trying desperately to help me, to guide me through the inner demons of the past that haunted me, but I didn't need help, nor could I be helped.
"Of course I do, and I refuse to take it off. Not being prepared to face certain things isn't the same as desiring to forget them. You once said that sometimes you wished you could forget, forget all that troubles you, but I never want to forget. His death is my one, and only trouble, but I do not want to forget him, or any memory that I shared with him." I spoke, coiling with anger, and sorrow. Our conversation a heavy snag within the spirited ambiance around us.
"I think that forgetting is the cruelest thing that could possibly happen to anyone." I completed, and Steve just wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry I brought him up, and asked too much. Want to sight see some more?" He asked, wishing to lighten the mood, and bring it back to the surface of merriment.
"Sure-" I was about to comply, but then Steve's phone began to ring, and begrudgingly he answered it.
I swiveled around from him while he got swept up within a conversation, scanning the city, and once again trying to take in all that it offered, rendering me dizzy again.
"I'm sorry, Becky. I have to go. Business stuff." The muscular blonde expressed.
"Ah, heroic stuff? Saving lives, and breaking apart anarchy? Real vigilante things." I asked, and he shook his head.
"No, this time it truly is business related. Filled with meetings, and paperwork."
He almost looked disappointed, a bit like a kid being told that he had to complete his homework before he could play.
"Well, you do what you gotta do. I think I'm going to explore on my own some more."
My response seemed to have sprouted a sense of worry within him, and automatically I noticed it.
"I can handle being alone, Steve. It may be seventy years later, but I'm still the same. I've always been able to handle anything."
"Okay," Steve regretfully adhered. "Though be careful. You're the only one I have, and you know that little silver rectangle in your pocket? That's a cellphone. If you see my name pop up answer it."
I mustered up a chuckle.
"You know if anyone overheard our conversation right now I bet they'd think that I was incredibly stupid."
"Not stupid, just outdated."
"Hey, who are you calling outdated, grandpa?"
Steve laughed.
"I'll see you later, grandma."
With a goodbye swollen with lightheartedness we both went our separate ways. Him off to partake in crucial Avenger business, and me off to travel within this foreign place some more.
I continued to meander throughout the vast city, a city that seemed endless, forever bending onto itself like ocean waves despite being only 330 miles long, and 285 miles wide.
Discovering an infinite amount of new things, each one fascinating, and mystifying. For hours on end I played the role of a tourist, experiencing modern New York for the first time, well actually experiencing the 21st century for the first time as well.
I kept on seeing things until the tangerine sunset melted between the buildings, oozing it's warm incandescence across the boroughs.
Taking out my phone I tapped in a number, and called Steve, him answering right away.
"Hey, Becky. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? How did you even figure out how to call me?"
"Relax, Steve. I can handle figuring out how an iPhone works." I replied, shaking my head at his uneasiness in relation to me.
"Anyway," I continued. "There are some advantages to this time I'm finding. 2014 is pretty awesome, and the word "awesome" is unique, and fun to say. Though apparently modern day teenagers find the need to say it in every sentence they speak. All the food nowadays is really good, no more rationing anything either with everything being supersized, and the fashions don't involve gas masks anymore, so that's good. Also, the internet is amazing, you can look up anything. We have our own Wikipedia's, did you know that? The search engine Google really does have an answer to any question you may ask it, and I've had five of these triple espresso Starbucks Frappucino's, they're amazing."
"Well, I'm glad you're safe, and enjoying yourself, Becky. Though I'm kind of in the middle of an essential Avenger meeting, and you're on speaker phone. Speaker phone is when-" Steve began to explain, but I cut him off.
"Everyone can hear me. I'm up to speed, old man." I joked, and I could hear the chuckles from all the Avengers in the room making me curve my lips upward.
"Talk to you later, Steve."
Once I hung up I kept on with my adventure, my wanderlust not defusing out until way later than I originally anticipated. Though time within New York escapes from you, and you become so infatuated with the sights that the clock is no longer restraining you. Though I did have to return to the Avengers Tower even though I wanted to continue to explore the city that never seems to have an off switch.
"Where have you been!?" I heard Steve exclaim, pestering me like a parent the second I stepped off the elevator.
"My phones battery died. For a silver rectangle magic thingy they don't last long despite how much they cost. Remember when a gallon of gas was eleven cents, and a brand new house was only like three thousand dollars? Times have changed."
"I know they have, and you can recharge your phone by the way." Steve said.
"Um, what are those?" I heard Tony comment, seated at a leather L shaped couch, a glass of scotch in his hands, his left eye still black, and purple. He was concentrating on the 20+ bags in my grasp.
"Modern stuff."
"And, how exactly did you pay for that "modern stuff"?" Tony inquired, and I plopped the heavy bags down onto the floor.
"With your credit card, Mr. Stark."
His eyebrows raised then, and he strolled over to the bar cart in the corner, refilling his glass.
"Okay, first of all how did you even get my credit card, and second, you can't go around spending my money. I don't appreciate it."
I smirked. "Well, first of all I have my ways with stealing things, and second, who was it who defroze me from ice seventy years later, and made me have to relive my husbands death? Yeah, I don't appreciate that either."
"That was Capsicle's fault, not mine." Tony retaliated.
"Actually, you found her first." Steve argued, defending himself, and I just let out a long sigh.
"Anyway, I'm actually tired. Modern processed sugar kicks in fast, but it also dies out exceptionally quick. I'm going to sleep, and I'll relocate to the safe apartment tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Becky." Steve said, waving at me, and then turned his attention to his Iron Man acquaintance.
"You sold me down the river. What's with that?"
"Well, your puppy love girl crush just spent a lot of my money."
"Good."