Poemsia

by Lang Leav

  Suddenly, I stopped. Jess and I had talked about visiting Central Park since we were kids, and here I was, without her. It didn’t feel right.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Just thinking about my best friend, Jess. We’ve dreamed about coming here for so long; I wish she was with me. That’s all.”

  Mena reached out and gave me a quick hug. “How old are you, Verity?”

  “Nineteen.”

  She gave my cheeks a soft squeeze. “You’re a baby!”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five, an old lady compared to you.” She linked my arm with hers, and we continued walking. “You know, you totally remind me of myself at your age. That’s when things started to happen for me, too.”

  “What was it like?”

  “It was thrilling, intoxicating—and so ridiculously hard. It was really tough when I started touring, and I was away from home a lot. So I took the plunge and moved here. It was the best decision I ever made.”

  “You must pinch yourself all the time.”

  “I do. I mean, this is my dream. How many people get to live their dream? But fame doesn’t come without setbacks. You were just talking about your friend Jess, and that reminds me of all the great people I’ve had to leave behind.”

  “That would never happen to me and Jess. Not in a million years.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought about my best friend, June. We grew up together and shared everything—even boyfriends! We were that close. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her. Now we don’t even keep in touch. Sometimes I so miss her, and I wish we could pick up where we left off, but it’s just not the same. They say all this fame stuff changes you, but it doesn’t. You’re still the same person. It’s just that everyone around you changes. The people you thought would always be in your life start to drift. It’s as if, deep down, they’ve lost the ability to relate to you.”

  “That’s so sad,” I said. I couldn’t imagine not having Jess in my life. The thought was so alien I couldn’t even begin to conceive it.

  Mena shrugged. “You get used to it, and you make new friends—ones you have more in common with. I guess that’s part of growing up. I think you can’t really get anywhere in life if you let sentimentality hold you back. That’s what I’ve learned, anyway.”

  “I think for me, all that stuff is a long way off.”

  Mena shook her head. “You don’t realize just how close you are, do you? I’ve been tracking your socials, and you’re growing at a faster rate than any poet I’ve seen—myself included. Your numbers are going through the roof.”

  “You really think so?” Sometimes when I posted a new poem, I would watch awestruck as the counter ticked up and up. But for some reason, I’d always found it hard to attach those numbers to real live people.

  “It won’t fully sink in until you get up on stage.” Once again, Mena had read my mind. “After Friday night, you’ll see what I mean. When the fame comes, it will swallow you up like a tsunami. You won’t see it coming until it’s already here.”

  I looked into her honey-brown eyes, and suddenly, I was reminded of what Stella had said. “Your wish will come true, but it will come at a cost.” I shivered, thinking of what I wanted more than anything else. Underneath layers of that dream, I felt a tiny creeping ball of dread, much like the princess and the pea.

  “Is your boyfriend the cute guy who keeps popping up on your Instagram?”

  “Yes,” I said, a bit giddily.

  “First love?”

  I grinned and nodded.

  “I remember my first—Josh. Back then I thought the world of him, but do you know what that asshole did? He went to the media with personal stuff about me. Like really intimate stuff. I could kill him.”

  “I can’t imagine Sash ever doing that.”

  “You can never be too sure. Boys have egos the size of houses. They think with their dicks. It’s been like that throughout history. That’s why there’s such a thing as locker room talk. Only now, the Internet is their locker room. It’s pathetic.”

  “I don’t think all guys are like that, and Sash definitely isn’t. My grandad owns a bookshop, and it’s been falling apart around us, but Sash has been fixing it up. It’s really sweet of him.”

  “You’d be amazed what a guy would do to get into your pants.”

  “Oh no, it’s not like that at all! I was the one who was trying to get into his.”

  She tittered. “You’re so cute. We should have this conversation again when you’re my age. You’ll have learned by then that the world isn’t all roses and everyone has a motive. How long have you known Sash?”

  “We met a few months ago.”

  “Verity, you can’t possibly get to know someone that quickly.”

  “But we just click, you know? I’ve never felt that way about anyone else—almost like we’re—”

  “Soul mates?” Mena interrupted. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been there, and it’s easy to get carried away with all that stuff in the beginning. But half a dozen guys later . . . well, your perspective might change a little.”

  I had to wonder whether there was truth to what she was saying. I loved Sash with all my heart, but what if it was because I had no one else to compare him with? Hadn’t the past few months shown me how unpredictable life could be?

  Mena went on, “And while you’re away, he’s got Penelope hanging around him. Do you really trust him, Verity?”

  “Yes, of course! Sash is a great guy. I’m so lucky he came into my life when he did.”

  “You mean because you’ve got a maintenance guy around? You do know you can hire them?”

  “No, no—Sash is so much more than that!” I felt like I was getting tangled up in my words and everything was coming out wrong. “Besides, we can’t afford to hire anyone.”

  She put both hands on my shoulders and peered down at me, eyes laughing. “Verity, soon you’ll be able to buy a whole new bookshop.”

  “But—it’s where I grew up. It’s my home. I don’t want another one.”

  She stood back and shook her head; a knowing smile crossed her face. “You know what? I used to think exactly like you, but remember what I said about fame? You’re going to have so much choice. You’ll have the whole world right before you. The last thing you want is some guy holding you back.”

  “Sash isn’t holding me back; he’s really supportive and—”

  “What will he do when you move to New York?”

  All at once, I felt like I’d been hit with motion sickness. “Move?” I gulped.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

  “Um, I—”

  “It might sound crazy, but you have to think about your future. I know you’re only nineteen, but the next few years will go by in a flash.” She clicked her fingers. “This poetry game—it’s all about youth, right? You’ve only got a handful of years to make it big, then someone younger will come along and replace you. That’s the way it is in the music biz, and poetry is the same. Look at Sara Woo. She moved here all the way from Singapore, and her career is going from peak to peak. She started touring bookstores, and now she’s just sold out a show at The Town Hall. You’ve had a massive break, Verity, but you can’t coast on it forever. You need to be where the action is, or it will pass you by.”

  I was struggling to come to terms with what she was saying, grappling with the idea of moving all the way here. To be honest, the thought had never crossed my mind. How on earth could I leave Pop? I was the only family he had. And Sash and Jess. But perhaps Mena knew better. This was my dream, and a chance like this might never come again. If I didn’t grab it with both hands, I might regret it for the rest of my life. I felt a strange sensation in my stomach that tugged in both directions.

  “We’re here! This is what I wanted to s
how you,” said Mena, cutting into my thoughts. I immediately recognized the Alice in Wonderland sculpture from all the pictures I’d seen, but I wasn’t prepared for how grand and detailed it was. My eyes eagerly took in Alice, the Cheshire cat, the Dormouse, the Mad Hatter, and my favorite—the White Rabbit. A shiver went down my spine, and I recognized an affinity with the story that I’d never felt before.

  “You feel kind of like Alice, don’t you?” Once again, Mena seemed to have an uncanny knack for reading my thoughts. It was as though she knew me better than I knew myself—perhaps because she’d gone down this road before.

  I nodded. “Was it like that for you?”

  “Like falling down the rabbit hole, you mean?” She answered her own question. “Without a doubt.”

  “Everything feels so surreal, you know? Like I’m in a dream.”

  She grinned. “Welcome to Wonderland, sweetie!”

  It was sunset when I got back to the hotel. Jess sprang up from the bed, standing on her tiptoes like she did whenever she was excited.

  “Well?” she said, anxiously.

  “It was awesome!” I blurted, and she let out a whoop.

  “You have to tell me everything!” she cried, grabbing both my hands and swinging them side to side.

  “I don’t know where to start. Oh my God, I’m still shaking a bit.”

  “I don’t blame you! You just spent a whole day with Mena”—she paused for emphasis—“Rhodes!”

  “Sorry I didn’t call—totally lost track of time.”

  “That’s a good thing, right? I had a feeling the two of you got on since you were away so long.”

  “How was Aunty Hoy?”

  Jess had gone to visit her aunt, a pediatrician who lived out in Brooklyn, with her husband, Gerry, and their three-year-old, Pei Pei. I met Aunty Hoy once before, when she visited Jess in Sydney. She took us to Luna Park and seemed to enjoy the rides more than we did.

  “Aunty Hoy was really good! She was bawling her eyes out and hugged me so tight I started to go blue in the face. Then she gave me a pile of the red envelopes she set aside for me every Chinese New Year. It’s been quite a few years, so now I’m officially rich! Anthropologie, here I come!”

  “Good for you!”

  “Uncle Gerry took the day off, and we all went out to Yum Cha. My cousin Pei Pei is so cute—she has the chubbiest cheeks in the world and likes to remind us every two seconds that she’s just turned ‘thwee.’ After lunch, we went to their place—a sweet townhouse with climbing red roses down one wall. And get this: they have five Pomeranians!”

  “Five?” I held up my hand, fingers splayed.

  Jess nodded. “Why would anyone need five? Especially since Uncle Gerry is allergic, poor thing. Aunty Hoy says he’s allergic to everything, even though Uncle Gerry assures me he’s not.”

  “I wish I could have seen them!”

  “The Pommies?”

  “No, your family, silly!”

  “Oh, they’d love to see you, too, but they know what a busy girl you are. We’ll catch up with them if we get a chance. You’ll love the Pommies, but my advice is don’t wear open shoes. I wore my sandals, and let’s put it this way: I’m lucky I still have toes.”

  “Noted!”

  “Enough about me! Tell me about your day with Mena! What was she like?”

  “She’s so pretty,” I gushed. “The pictures don’t do her justice at all. She’s really nice and down-to-earth. We talked about literally everything!”

  “Wow, this is so surreal!”

  “You’re telling me! I was so nervous at first, but once we got talking, the conversation just flowed. You know, she’s got so much wisdom because she’s been part of this scene for ages. She was the first poet really to break through—”

  “Wait! How does Mena like her coffee?” Jess interrupted.

  “Black.”

  “That’s so gangsta!”

  I laughed and continued, “We talked about poetry—she loved my book.”

  Jess squealed, and I giggled.

  “We talked about what it was like for her in the beginning, what to expect for my event Friday night. Um . . . what else? Oh, we went to see the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park—”

  “You went to Central Park?” Jess cut in. I caught a flicker of something in her eyes. For a second, it looked as though she was hurt.

  “Well, we kind of just wandered in. I mean, I wish I had gone with you first . . .”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Vare! We can go anytime we want. What was it like?”

  “You’re going to love it! Why don’t we go tomorrow? We can get one of those rowboats at the lake.”

  She clapped her hands together. “One more thing we can check off our list!”

  “And afterward we can get some sandwiches and have a little picnic.”

  “Speaking of food, I’m literally starving! Since we’ve been out all day, why don’t we have a night in? Order room service, watch reruns of Friends . . .”

  “Yes! Sounds perfect.”

  “Tomorrow, we can go to Egg & Yolk for breakfast—that place Jonesy awarded five carrots.”

  “Or if you want, there’s a place near Central Park that Mena says makes the best omelettes.”

  “Um, sure. OK,” said Jess, but then there was an awkward pause.

  “Actually, no. Let’s go to Egg & Yolk. If Jonesy gave it five carrots, it must be good!”

  “Don’t be silly! We should go the place Mena recommended. It’s right by Central Park, and that’s our first stop tomorrow, right?”

  “Are you sure? I just thought, you know, Mena’s a local, and she was raving about this place. She even wrote down the address for me . . .” I trailed off.

  “Vare, it’s fine. We’ll go to the place Mena recommended. Decision made, OK?”

  “Sure,” I said, even though a part of me now wished I hadn’t brought it up.

  “Now that’s settled.” She picked up the room service menu and put on her best posh sounding voice. “Now, what will madam be having this evening?”

  Later that night, I lay awake in my hotel bed. I could tell by the way Jess was breathing that she’d fallen asleep. Our room was on the third floor, and that meant we got the omnipresent sound of traffic punctuated by the high-pitched wailing of sirens. Every so often, there was a loud crashing sound nearby, like a pile of rocks being emptied into a garbage bin.

  My mind sifted through the things Mena had said. Some parts were exciting, and others made me uneasy, especially what she had said about Sash. What if she was right? Could I really trust him around Penelope when I was halfway across the world? After all, I knew she would always be a huge part of his life. Didn’t he tell me so himself? I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and tiptoed into the bathroom. I sent a text to Sash.

  He appeared on the screen moments later, face grinning and hair disheveled. He looked so sexy I wanted to press my face against the screen. My heart welled up, and any shred of doubt Mena had planted in me vanished in an instant.

  “I miss you.” I sat down on the cold tiles, my back against the door and knees tucked under my chin.

  “I miss you too, Wolf.”

  “How’s Pop?”

  “He’s good. I was over yesterday, putting up the new awning in the courtyard. He made me a sandwich.”

  “What kind?”

  “Cheese and onion. It was delicious! The cheese was, like, bright orange—a hard cheddar so full of flavor. He won’t tell me where he got it. I looked in the fridge for clues, but he’d gotten rid of all the evidence.”

  “I swear, in your last life you were probably a mouse.”

  “So that explains why your cat keeps trying to kill me.”

  “How is Zorro, by the way?”

  “He’s keeping it real.”
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  I felt a lump in my throat. A feeling of despair swept over me, and I didn’t know why.

  Sash frowned. “Are you OK?”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks.

  “Hey, Wolf, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  I cried even harder.

  “Wolf? What’s going on?”

  “It sucks, you know,” I sobbed. “I’m so lucky to be here, but inside I’m going haywire. I think maybe I’m homesick or something, but I keep getting hit with these waves of sadness. The second I feel anything negative, I get angry at myself because I’m in New York, and this is my dream—I’m literally not allowed to feel bad about anything. It’s so overwhelming, getting hijacked by my feelings all the damn time, but I can’t help it.”

  “Do you know what? Whatever it is you’re feeling, go ahead and feel it. Even if it’s negative. I hereby give you permission.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I’ve just lifted the embargo on feelings. You can now enjoy them guilt free.”

  I wiped at the tears in my eyes. “I love you, Sash.”

  “The feeling is mutual, Wolf. I’m there with you, OK? Remember that.”

  “I still have your silk handkerchief—the one you gave me at Marcia’s.”

  “There we go. I’m your lucky charm.”

  I sniffed. “What time is it over there?”

  He angled his camera to where a miserable-looking Monty was standing in a bathtub, big, woeful eyes aimed squarely at me as though I could rescue him.

  Sash ducked his head back into the frame, grinning. “It’s bath time!”

  “Now this is more like it!” Jess said happily as we glided across the lake in our little boat at Central Park. She was naturally good at almost anything, and despite never having rowed before, she mastered it in the first few minutes. Now we were bobbing along the water, enjoying the sunshine and views of the Manhattan skyline that peeked out behind the clusters of trees.

  “This is more like us, isn’t it?” I said, grinning sheepishly.

  I was referring to breakfast that morning. The moment we stepped into Pony, Mena’s recommendation, we regretted it. We looked so out of place among the other diners. Even though most were dressed casually, they all seemed to have that glow, an indescribable look that distinguished them from ordinary people like us.