by Adams, S. C.
“This looks great, Grams,” I say, digging into her famous spaghetti with the thick orange sauce. “Thanks for making my favorite meal.”
“Anything for you, Lissie.”
“Did you see that Harold’s dog got loose again?” Gramps asks in a muffled voice. The words are impaired by the garlic bread he’s still chewing. “He jogged right on down to the Taylor house and ran through the sprinklers with the kids until Harold came and got him.”
We all laugh. That dog gets into mischief on a weekly basis, and I feel better already, my spirits lifting. Someone should write a cartoon about him.
“Harold should start renting Rover out to the neighborhood kids. They love playing with him,” my grandma says ruefully.
“No rental needed,” Gramps says. “Rover does what he wants.”
We continue on with easy conversation like this. Gramps keeps us informed on the neighborhood gossip while Grams lets us know the latest about the available single men in town, just in case. She’ll never lose hope.
I smile and laugh, but behind my cheerful demeanor is a somber mind. It’s going to be so hard to leave this behind tomorrow. My grandparents have been my rock since I was five years old. It feels like I’m abandoning them, even though I know they want me to go out and live my dream.
Plus, I’ll be totally alone in New York. There won’t be any conversations about Harold’s dog around the dinner table, at least not for a while. There won’t be any home-cooked hearty spaghetti dinners, unless I make them myself. Am I ready to leave all this for a dream that might be nothing but illusions?
But I have to. The happy look on my mom’s face sits in the back of my mind. Nancy would want me to find myself and to see what the big world has to offer.
If not for myself, I have to do it for my mom.
2
Alyssa
So far, everything I’ve seen about New York is from the inside of a train station.
My grandparents dropped me off in Boston bright and early this morning to catch the one-ninety-five train into Penn Station. I forgot to pack my phone charger, so it died three quarters of the way through my four-hour ride. Ugh. Talk about absent-minded.
I’m not usually the type of person who needs to be tied to her cell at all times, but it would really come in handy right now. I have absolutely no idea where I am, which means I have no idea how to get to my apartment. Luckily, I remembered that I was supposed to take the subway to Grand Central Terminal. After that, I’m totally lost.
Why is this happening? Why why why? Especially since this is supposed to be the start of my great adventure.
My eyes look around, and there’s a small kiosk selling candies and drinks nearby, so I grab a soda and a map. Unfortunately, I’m terrible at reading maps and the squiggly, bright-colored lines seem to move and then blur as I stare helplessly. Oh no.
But I remember from my research that there are tons of exits in Grand Central. Maybe one of them will be close to my new apartment? It’s probably easier to navigate inside the terminal than to try to do it on packed city streets. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to an exit like I know what I’m doing and climb a flight of stairs, hoping to come out somewhere that will lead me to my new home. Instead, I find myself in the center of the main concourse, bustling with people walking swiftly, their eyes fixed to the ground. Ugh. What do I do now?
The exit in front of me says East 42nd Street. I need to be on West 55th Street. Uck. New York is supposed to be straightforward to navigate, but I haven’t even been here an hour and I’m already lost.
I stare down at my map again. The numbers are so tiny, but I manage to locate Grand Central. I search for the street where my apartment is supposed to be, but I can’t find it. Where are the “west” streets on this stupid map? I think I bought a faulty one.
“Excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?”
I jump, startled by the sudden voice. In front of me is a man with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and they’re looking very concerned.
“What?” I mumble, not remembering what he said.
He chuckles.
“I was asking if you’re okay. You appear to be lost.”
I hold up my map, exasperated.
“My phone died and I can’t figure out this stupid map! I need to be on West 55th, and this is East 42nd. That means I’m like a hundred blocks away, right?” comes my vexed tone.
The handsome man doesn’t laugh at my naiveté.
“You’re actually less than a mile from your destination,” he says with a wry grin.
Befuddled, I look down at my map and then up at him.
“How is that even possible?”
He shrugs.
“That’s New York for you. Fifth Avenue is basically the epicenter of the city. The streets switch from east to west there. We’re not far.”
“I’ve heard of Fifth,” I say slowly. “It’s where people go to shop, right?”
He laughs.
“Yeah, except that you have to have a million dollars to afford the shopping on Fifth, and I unfortunately, don’t have that kind of money.”
I can’t help but blush. He’s so hot, and I’m a bedraggled mouse standing in the bustling halls of Grand Central. He could have walked by like the million other people here, but instead, he chose to help me.
“I don’t think many people have that kind of money,” I say shyly. “I actually just moved here today, as you can tell,” are my words. The two oversized suitcases I’ve been lugging around are practically bursting at the seams. He raises his eyebrows. Being lost in New York City sucks; being lost with suitcases is even worse.
“Welcome to New York,” the guy says drolly. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I can help you find your apartment, if you’d like.”
After the trouble I’ve had trying to find it myself, I know I have to take him up on it. After all, what am I going to do? Letting a perfect stranger help me might be dangerous, but it’s morning and there are tons of witnesses around. I’ll be fine.
“That would be so great,” are my grateful words. “I don’t think I’ll find it on my own.”
“Excellent! I’m Nate, by the way.”
“Alyssa,” I tell him shyly. “Thank you so much for helping me out.”
His smile is warm and genuine. “It’s my pleasure. Can I take one of your bags?”
Again, there’s no way I can say no. The suitcases are heavy. Any help is much appreciated.
Suddenly, Nate takes a step towards me and I freeze like a deer in headlights because he smells amazing. But this isn’t some male cologne or a weird chemical scent. Instead, he smells masculine and spicy, which is the best combination in the world. There are notes of something tangy mixed with the deep musk of a woody forest. I have to stabilize myself with my suitcase because a fog begins to permeate my brain. Oh my god, what’s going on? But the gorgeous man doesn’t notice.
“Follow me,” he says in his deep, sexy voice. He takes off towards an exit with shiny gold doors and holds one open so I can drag myself through it. Nate turns right and then immediately turns right again. We probably could have gone out a different set of doors, but the cool air feels great on my warm skin. It was getting a bit clammy inside the terminal. Of course, that may have more to do with Nate than the actual temperature.
“So what do you think of New York so far?” he asks with a wry smile. Huffing, I smile back. I’m a bigger girl and the exertion is making me sweat, but I try to make like this is all a walk in the park.
“I haven’t seen much,” I tell him breezily. “Just the skyline, but I’ve seen that in photos. This is my first time actually walking in New York City.”
He raises his brows.
“You moved to New York without ever visiting?”
I blush. It does sound crazy, come to think of it.
“Well, I had this great opportunity I couldn’t turn down. I’m going to start school here.”
Nate nods.
“Well, you’re definitely p
retty enough for New York,” he flirts. “We like pretty girls in the big city, have you heard?”
His comment takes me off guard and I nearly face plant on the side walk while hyperventilating, my knees weak. Oh god. Was that comment really directed at me? Luckily, Nate is there to catch me.
“Thanks,” I say, letting myself luxuriate in the hard warmth of his arms before scrambling upright again. “Um, I’ve been a little worried about fitting in here. I grew up in a small town in Maine. It’s like, the total opposite of the city.”
His easy grin sends shivers up my spine.
“Hey, the first step is looking the part. As soon as you lose the suitcases, you’ll fit right in. The rest of it? Most of us are faking it until we make it, trust me. And you have to walk fast to be a real New Yorker.”
I laugh, my death grip on my suitcase lessening.
“I think I can handle all that. Are the people here all as nice as you are?”
He smiles.
“Absolutely not. I’m one in a million.”
“Really?” I ask playfully. “Is that so?”
Nate nods, but then shakes his head while chuckling.
“No, sorry. I tend to be pretty sarcastic. I won’t lie and say everyone in New York is nice but you’ll meet some great people here. For the most part, New Yorkers are willing to help if you need it. As long as you stay out of their way when they’re heading to work because you know what it’s like here. Work, work, work.”
I sigh, but I guess it makes sense. After all, I’m here to pursue the career of my dreams as well. We take another turn and a gasp escapes my lips. Oh my god, is it really? This is near where the giant Christmas tree is lit up during the holidays! Holy cow.
Nate reads my mind and grins again.
“Coming up on the left is Radio City Music Hall. I definitely recommend seeing a show there. And yep, this is where they have the tree at Rockefeller Center.”
“It’s where the Rockettes perform, right?” My voice comes out breathy and awed.
Nate nods.
“The venue hosts other stuff, too, but yeah, the Rockettes do their yearly Christmas show at Radio City.”
“I’ve always wanted to see that!” I say, almost clapping my hands with glee. “And I’m living within walking distance? That’s awesome!”
“I suppose you have to get the tourist stuff out of your system before you can turn into a real New Yorker.”
I press my hands together again, almost shaking with excitement. Am I making a fool of myself in front of this gorgeous guy? Yeah, probably. I’ve never been good at talking to guys, which is probably why I’m a twenty-year-old virgin. I stop that train of thought before my blush gives me away.
“Even back home, I’m the girl who loves to do touristy things. It’s just who I am, I guess.”
“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Nate says lightly. “There’s a ton to do in New York. You’ll be well occupied.”
He doesn’t offer to do the touristy stuff with me, which is disappointing. Will we stay in touch after we reach my front door? But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. Merely arriving at my front door would be a miracle at this point.
“Down that street is MoMA, if you’re interested in art,” he continues, one long arm outstretched.
I shrug.
“I’m not a huge art museum person, but MoMA is on my list of must-visits. The Met, too.”
He nods while still dragging one of my suitcases.
“A few blocks that way, then to the left, and you’re on a street with a bunch of museums.”
I make a mental note of this, though I’ll be able to look it up once my phone is charged.
“You’re actually only a few blocks from Central Park, too. You’ll probably want to spend a lot of time there since you’re from a place where trees aren’t limited to a long green strip.”
“Central Park is definitely on my list,” I say. “I didn’t realize it was only a few blocks away but that’s awesome to hear.”
Truthfully, beyond a few preliminary directions and a google search of Grand Central, I didn’t do a whole lot of research before I arrived. At least, not in terms of where things are compared to where I now live. I know exactly where NYACA is located, but that’s about it. I’ll have to break out my laptop and figure out where my target destinations are. Given that this is NYC, the possibilities are endless. I can’t wait.
“What’s your favorite thing to do in Maine?” Nate asks conversationally. “Other than hanging out with moose.”
“Hey, I don’t hang out with moose!” I protest with another giggle. “Though we do get them in our backyard a lot…”
He gives me a look that says, point proven. I nudge him playfully on the shoulder.
“Besides, moose are troublemakers more than friends. They eat the stuff in our vegetable garden and like to scrape themselves against trees. So yeah, no moose. My favorite thing to do in Maine is visit the lighthouses. We have a ton on the shoreline.”
“Do you have a favorite one?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“I do!” I tell him. “There’s this one on Monhegan Island that I love. It’s beautiful out there, and there’s a ton of culture to experience. I visit at least once a month, even in winter if I can. Trust me, it’s tough. Maine gets tons of snow. Way more than here.”
“It sounds amazing,” Nate agrees amiably. “Not as amazing as hanging out with a moose, though.”
I let out another peal of helpless laughter. I could get used to this. A part of me never wants to reach my apartment because I don’t want this walk with Nate to end.
“What’s your favorite thing to do in New York?” I ask.
“Eat,” he says matter of factly. “There are a ton of amazing restaurants throughout the city. We have some of the best food in the world, in my humble opinion. I love trying new places and discovering new cuisines.”
“I love food too,” I share. “You’ll have to tell me your favorite restaurants so I can check them out.”
Before Nate can respond, we take one last left and the street name finally matches the one on my rental agreement. Sooner than I’d like, we’re in front of my new apartment building.
“Thanks for helping me get here,” I say shyly as Nate hands me my second suitcase. I got lucky and scored a first floor apartment, so my need for his assistance ends here. Plus, it wouldn’t be wise of me to invite some guy I just met into my apartment building. Nate seems nice and trustworthy, but still. This is the big city, and I’m not that naive.
“My pleasure,” he growls. “Hey, what are you here to study? I almost forgot to ask.”
“Oh. Cooking. I got accepted into this awesome culinary school called the New York Academy for Culinary Arts. Have you heard of it?”
Nate’s face goes blank for some reason. Is he not into chefs? I realize there’s a deluge of shows on the Food Channel, and a cookbook out every week. Or maybe his ex was a chef? But just as quickly, the expression is wiped off his face.
“That’s great, Alyssa. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t move, so I turn to go, raising one hand in farewell. The handsome man grins then.
“Can I get your number?”
Excitement pours through my veins.
“Yes!” I practically shout. My cheeks redden. “I mean, sure. No problem.”
Nate laughs, throwing his head back to reveal perfect white teeth.
“I liked walking with you. If you ever need someone to do touristy things with, I’m your guy.”
“Really?” I ask. Maybe the Big Apple is a charmed city where dreams really do come true.
He grins.
“Yeah, of course. I may have lived here my whole life, but there are still things I’ve never done. In fact, I’ve never been to the Met.”
I giggle.
“How is that possible? Doesn’t everyone go at least once? And it’s free to boot, right?”
He shrugs.
“I guess it was nev
er on my list. It’s weird to think about it, but living here means I don’t notice as much of the cool stuff there is to do. For better or worse, you get used to things.”
I giggle again.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’ll happily go to tourist stops with you. I’m dying to get to know the city. My program only lasts a year, and I plan on using every second while I’m here to explore.”
“We’ll do it together then. But first, let me get your number before I forget.”
I recite the ten digits for him to enter into his phone. I hold up my dead cell for him to see.
“I’d ask for yours, but I’d have nowhere to put it. Text me so I can save your number?”
“Done,” he says. “By the way, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
His abrupt question surprises me, but my answer is immediate.
“Um sure.” Wow, things really do move at lightspeed in the city.
Nate smiles, flashing that impish grin again. “Excellent. I’ll pick you up at five?”
“Um sure,” I stammer. And with that, the handsome man is gone before turning around to wave.
“Don’t bring any moose!” he calls.
I giggle again, turning to go into my new apartment. Of course I wouldn’t bring moose to dinner. Or does he mean I should bring moose to dinner? Who knows? I’m stunned at the quick turn of events. I just got asked on a date in my first hour in the city. This truly is the land of opportunity, especially for a girl who doesn’t know much about men.
But first things first. I drag my suitcases up the two stairs and down the hall. If I’d stayed with Nate on the sidewalk any longer, I might have never come in. My door opens easily with the key my landlord mailed. The apartment is expensive, but it came fully furnished, thank god. There’s a lumpy sofa and rickety dining table, along with a bright orange plastic chair. Only one chair, not two.
But it’s fine. There’s only one of me, after all. I plug my phone into a socket, and plonk down on the sofa, my head still whirring. But then I leap up in a frenzy. I’ve got a date tonight with the most gorgeous man … and I can’t wait.
