Chapter 1
The wheels screeched as they touched the runway. The long wait to reach my destination was over. I took a deep breath. After the passengers in front of me filed out of the plane, I stood up, gathered my belongings, and headed to the exit.
I entered LaGuardia Airport. Within a few steps, I was immersed in a never-ending sea of people walking at a brisk pace. I increased my stride to speed-walker level just to keep up with them. As the crowd began to thin out, with people going off in various directions, I saw how full the airport was in the late afternoon. Some people sat waiting for their flights to board. Others were deplaning, which pushed more streams of people into the hallways of travelers. I saw an empty chair.
I sat down and took a short break from the quick pace. Tucking my suitcase underneath the seat, I rested my feet in front of it, trying to keep it out of the way of the growing crowd rushing by. A new group deplaned, entered the airport, and funneled out among the others. A wide variety of cultures were represented, with Middle Eastern men dressed in the latest fashions walking next to Hasidic Jews who wore black suits, white shirts, black hats, and long, tight curls of hair hanging just past their ears. Italian men exuded raw sexuality from their jet-black hair, dark, smoldering eyes, and warm olive skin as they walked past in sharp business suits. Caucasians, African-Americans, and Asians were scattered among the others. I wanted a closer look at each of them, so that I could admire their style or beauty, but that was impossible. They seemed to have only one objective: to get from point A to point B.
Once again, the rush started to die down to a manageable level. I walked to the luggage carousel and waited for my suitcases to come around. All my belongings were in those suitcases or in the carry-on bag on my shoulder or in a few boxes that I had shipped to the apartment earlier. Taking a chance on a new life in a city I had never been to and hoping for the best was a big gamble. I located my suitcases on the carousel, picked them up, and strapped one on top of the other so they could be pulled on one set of wheels. Taking a deep breath, I headed toward the exit.
I looked for Fiona, my new roommate, who was older than me by nine years. She had mentioned her age in one of the letters she’d sent me earlier by way of introduction. Judging by her photo, she could easily pass for someone in her twenties. She was meeting me at the airport to give me a ride to our apartment. I was grateful that Henry, a friend who I had worked with in California, had arranged for me to room with his cousin. Since I had never lived in a big city, having a roomie to guide me around New York was going to be helpful.
Once I was through the security gates, I saw a sign that read Amber Milestone on bright-pink cardboard. At first, Fiona and I didn’t make eye contact. She swayed back and forth slightly as she stood. The poster she held shook a little. I almost didn’t notice it.
Is she excited to meet me? I was definitely thrilled to meet her. After I read the introduction she’d sent, I could tell we would become friends. We had common interests. In the note, she revealed a great deal about her background and made me feel like I knew all about her by the time I was done reading.
She smiled and waved at me. I grinned back and walked faster. She had her hair cut much shorter than the photo she mailed to me a few months ago. The pixie style complemented her oval face, framing it perfectly.
“Fiona, I love your hair,” I said as I approached her.
“Thanks. It’s short, but I love it!” She ran her fingers through the blunt layers of her red hair. “So much easier to manage.”
“I’m sure it is.” Even though I liked my long, naturally curly hair, it did take forever to style it. I wished I had straight hair like hers. Then, I’d probably do what she did and chop it off just so it would be quicker to fix. Then again, Fiona was shorter than I was, so a pixie haircut looked cute on her. But short hair on me would only make me look taller. No, thank you. I was tall enough.
She took ahold of my two suitcases and started walking at a brisk pace toward the exit. I kept up with her, knowing that if I slacked off, she could blend into the crowd and disappear.
She looked back and said, “I’m a little wired from drinking too much coffee. I needed it after I stayed up too late last night, thinking of finally meeting you.” I was touched that she was just as excited as I was. “There is so much to show you. Times Square, Statue of Liberty, Brooklyn Bridge, Wall Street, museums—”
“Daddy!” A young girl ran past us and into her father’s arms.
“Shopping, Central Park,” Fiona continued, only to be interrupted again.
“I was like”—one of the teenagers in a group walking toward us cracked a smile then raised her voice—“hell yes!”
The group chuckled, blocking out Fiona’s voice entirely. As they finished laughing, Fiona’s words blended into the background noise. I was so exhausted that I didn’t have the ability to concentrate on her voice.
Fiona squeezed my arm lightly as we walked side by side. “Amber, you didn’t answer me.” She wasn’t carrying the sign anymore. When did that happen? She must have thrown it out while I wasn’t paying attention. “I really want to know. What’s it going to be?”
“Ah—”
She raised her eyebrows. “You have no idea what I asked you, do you?”
“Not really.” I made eye contact. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I’m tired from the long flight. What did you ask me?”
“I asked you what you wanted to see in Manhattan first. I can’t decide what to show you, so I thought you could pick.”
“Right now, all I want is a bed to crash on.”
“Of course. You can tell me later.” Fiona stopped talking. She probably figured if I was too tired to listen, there wasn’t much of a point.
We walked for a while before she stopped at a BMW and got her keys out of her pocket.
“Thanks for picking me up, so I didn’t have to take a cab,” I said.
“No problem.”
Her sedan gleamed in the afternoon sun. There was no dirt or any scratches on it. “Nice ride. Did you just get it?” I asked as she popped the trunk open.
“I did two days ago. My boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday. Don’t you love it?” She put my luggage in and shut the lid.
“It’s great. That’s an impressive gift.”
“Sure is,” she said. “I can’t wait for you to meet Cam.”
“Me too!” Since he bought her a car as a present, I was curious to find out what he did for a living. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention him in your letters. They were so personal that I felt like I really got to know you by reading them. Why did you leave him out of your notes? You guys must be close.”
“We are, but I wanted you to get to know me first. I figured you’d meet him soon after you got here.”
“That makes sense.”
Fiona drove us to Manhattan. The closer we got to the city, the more congested the traffic became. The flow stopped and started continually. The drivers beeped their horns in short bursts. Everyone was in a hurry, yet they couldn’t get anywhere fast. I cringed when a taxi nearly hit us as it merged into our lane. It didn’t help that accidents seemed to be happening all around. I looked down, unable to watch the commotion. My hands sweated as Fiona weaved in and out of the lanes.
I took a deep breath and focused on the vertical architecture. Buildings lined each side of the long avenues. Retail stores and apartments were attached to one another, with no space in between. Apartments were stacked on top of restaurants. People jogged up from subway terminals and onto the sidewalks. Everyone was going somewhere, in perpetual motion. Suburban living in California was nothing like New York. It was laid-back, not a city full of people in a hurry.
Fiona opened the door to the apartment building and lugged the suitcases up the stairs to the third floor, since it didn’t have an elevator. She opened the front door and gestured for me to enter.
“I’ll show you your bedroom.”
The main living area was compact, with a love seat, chair, and two small end tables. The kitchen overlooking it would be crowded for the two of us.
Within a few steps, we were at my room. She said, “Henry took the liberty of ordering you a new dresser and nightstand. They arrived yesterday. As we discussed earlier, the bed is yours, since my old roommate left it.”
Grateful for the new furniture, I got teary-eyed. “He’s the best. He arranged for me to be your roommate, and now this.” I nodded toward the dresser.
“Yeah, he is.”
After I dropped off my suitcases in my bedroom, I sat on the couch. I picked up a Chinese menu from the end table.
“I figured you might want to order delivery.” Fiona got a soda from the fridge and held the can up. “You want one?”
“Sure,” I replied. She got another one out and handed it over.
“I’ll call and order us dinner if you want,” she offered.
I gave her my order then headed to my room to unpack. My bedroom had just enough space for a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser, but it would do. My only possessions were in suitcases and those few boxes. They were full of belongings that I couldn’t live without, such as the photo in the silver frame that I removed from my suitcase. Camille, my eight-year-old niece, had given it to me for my birthday. It’s going to be hard not seeing her grow up. I put the photo on my nightstand. Isadora, Camille, and I were standing in front of my birthday cake in the photo. Next year, when I blew out my candles, I hoped to still live in Manhattan. Can I adjust to living in a city with millions of people? Time will tell.