by J J Maya
“I must admit Willow, you’re looking a lot better than you did last night!” he laughed.
“Cheeky git!” I swiped his arm playfully.
“The black is way more becoming than the lime green and shocking pink.”
“I was channeling Madonna, don’t knock it!”
“That reminds me,” he said, “I forgot to tell you that we’re going to her old neighbourhood.”
“We are?” I shouted, “I’ve been a fan of her…for like ever!”
“Well, you’re going to love this.”
He handed me a sheet of paper with an apartment address in Hell’s Kitchen.
“What’s this?”
“I found out there’s an apartment available in her old building.”
“No! Never!” I hugged Jake tightly, squeezing the air out of him.
“Now, don’t get too excited. You haven’t got it yet and you have to meet the landlord.”
“I do?”
“She’ll want to interview you, make sure you are legit…and whatever you do, don’t mention the night you spent sleeping in D’Arcy’s,” he winked at me with a knowing smile.
“As if I would! What do you take me for!”
“Just be on your best behavior. That’s all I’m asking,” he said.
I couldn’t get over the extent to which Jake was going to help me.
“What time is the meeting?” I asked.
Jake looked at his watch, “20 minutes from now.”
“What? But you haven’t given me any time to prepare!” I called, brushing my hair like a maniac and checking my reflection in the tiny handheld mirror. I took out my red lipstick and attempted to apply it as we trundled along underground.
“Calm down, you look smashing the way you are…and I didn’t give you much notice because I didn’t want you to get wound up and nervous.”
I laughed, “Well, that’s exactly what I am now!”
Jake attempted to comfort, “Look, you’ll be fine…just be…you.” He smiled at me warmly, causing me to feel a little self-conscious.
Why have I never noticed this man? I thought. We trundled on in a comfortable silence, that rare kind of silence that requires no words, no talking for talking’s sake. At one point, Jake looked like he was nodding off, I smiled to myself as I analysed his features in that makeup artist kind of way. He had a dimple on his right cheek and his Celtic skin was awash with freckles. His rugged complexion hinted at many years of working outdoors in the sunshine. But his hands were the biggest giveaway to the kind of life he had lived. This man was clearly a worker. Hard work was no stranger to him. I wanted to nourish his parched skin with my shea butter hand cream. But I guessed he would say no to the thought of using hand cream. I placed my head on his shoulder and relaxed, lulled by the motion of the train. I hoped he wouldn’t think I was being forward…
“Willow! Wake up…we’re here!”
I immediately opened my eyes and stared at my surroundings. Jake was dragging me up out of my seat and bundling me towards the carriage door. He gripped my hand tightly and I liked it.
“We’ve got five minutes to get there,” he called back to me as we snaked through the rush hour crowd going in the opposite direction. As we reached Hell’s Kitchen hood, we stopped for a breath of air.
“You might want to…er…fix your eyeliner before we go in,” he suggested.
“Why? what’s the matter?” I asked, searching for the handheld mirror that was lying at the bottom of my bag.
“It’s nothing really…just a little smudged, that’s all,” I noticed a thick black spot on the collar of Jake’s white polo shirt and realized I must have smudged my makeup when I fell asleep briefly on the subway.
Jake’s eyes darted towards his right shoulder, “Aw no…have you managed to get it on me too?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to,” I apologized.
Jake made a vain attempt at rubbing the mark then looked at me, “Don’t worry about it. I kind of like it,” he said as the familiar dimple appeared on his right cheek.
I pushed his shoulder lightly, “You’re mad, you are. Come on…let’s get going.”
***
The meeting with Mrs. Canhill lasted all of five minutes. She showed me around the tiny apartment on the 8th floor of the building, asked me if I wanted it and then gave me a receipt and a tenancy form to sign. She handed me a set of keys and told me the apartment would be available the following day, once the cleaners had been in. I had heard of horror stories surrounding the act of signing tenancy leases in New York City and couldn’t believe how stress-free my experience had been. I wondered how well Jake and Mrs. Canhill knew each other, but at the end of the day, I finally had a place to stay, a place all my own in one of the buzziest parts of New York. It if was good enough for Madonna in the 80s then it was good enough for me.
As we departed the building, Jake stopped in his tracks and stared at me, “Seriously, Willow, do you like it?” he asked.
“Jake, you’ve no idea how much I LOVE it. I’m gonna make it my own and call it my ‘home’”
“That’s the spirit. It’s a bit rough around the edges but once you’ve put your mark on it, it’ll be gas. Now come on, let’s get you back to Queens, I’ll put you on the subway and then I’ll head over to my cleaning job.”
“Are you working in the Empire State Building tonight?”
“Yeah, just a short shift…only four hours, I’m helping one of my colleagues out.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“His kid’s got cancer. I do what I can to help him keep his job.”
I was stopped dead in my tracks at this explanation.
“Medical bills are through the roof. You can’t even begin to imagine, Willow.”
“Dear God. That’s awful…” I was catapulted out of my own world of worries by this news. “Anything I can do to help?” I asked. It was the least I could do to offer my services.
“How’s your mopping skills?” he asked, dimple flashing cheekily.
“Top notch! The best on the block,” I laughed.
“Come with me then. If anything, it’ll make the shift go faster.”
Two hours later, as I stood once again on the Observatory Platform, 86 floors high in the winter sky, I thought how magical and mysterious life can be. I thought back to the yellow book and the urge to take a chance in life. I hadn’t yet got off the rollercoaster of life, but I was enjoying the endless twists and turns that life threw at me.
“Penny for them?” Jake interrupted my thoughts, “You missed a bit,” he said as he pointed to a dry patch on the platform floor.
“Cheeky!”
24
Winter Flurry
ON JANUARY 12th, I had rushed towards the safety of the subway station just as the heavens opened. A winter storm had been forecast for the remainder of the evening and into the early hours of the following morning. As Jake and I huddled together, shaking the remnants of the ice storm from our winter coats, I wondered if it wise for Jake to volunteer for his colleague tonight.
“Are you sure you’re going to be OK?” I asked. I looked at the data on my phone. “It’s already registering -6 Degrees Centigrade, what’s it going to be like up there? It’ll be like -20, you’ll freeze to death.”
“Ever the optimist, eh?” Jake turned away. He looked faintly angry at my suggestion for him not to go. “He’ll already be at the hospital right now…they’re doing a lumbar puncture on the poor kid.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realise.” I felt bad.
“I already told you what was happening, you couldn’t have been listening to me,” Jake chastised.
What’s bugging him? I wondered.
We continued for the next few stops in silence. I said “goodbye” to Jake. I wasn’t in the mood to accommodate other people’s bad moods. It was a relief to reach Hell’s Kitchen and make my way alone through the throngs of commuters and tourists. As I reached m
y building, I noticed there was a “Madonna” tour lining up outside. It was the one facet of life that I didn’t enjoy about living in this part of the city, but hey! Ho! I chose to live here so I’d just have to get used to it. A bunch of pretty Japanese girls in their late teens had dressed to look the part of Madonna during her “Holiday” time. They wore flirty short skirts and had numerous rows of beads wrapped around their wrists. I laughed as I heard them sing the star’s songs in their Japanese accent.
I huddled under my thick coat and thought of how cold they must be right now, but they didn’t appear to be too bothered. I let myself into the building and traversed the eight floors to my apartment.
As I opened the door, I was immediately hit with an icy blast of cold; it felt colder in my apartment than it did outside. I had left the living room window open and now the curtains were flapping around wildly at the window.
“Shit! Stupid idiot!” I said to myself, as I ran to slam the window shut. I turned the gas fire on full and boiled the kettle, all the while keeping my winter coat on. The earlier conversation with Jake had bothered me. I hadn’t wanted to come across so crass. I should have known that the young boy had been getting his treatment today, but I had got caught up in my own stuff and hadn’t paid attention.
I hope he doesn’t think I’m shallow, I thought.
I switched off the kettle and turned off the gas heater then left the apartment wearing the same coat I had arrived in. Back on street level, I trudged through the snow to the subway and made my way towards 49th Street. It was just a short hop on the subway to Herald Square and then a short stroll to the Empire State Building, but the journey time took almost half an hour door to door as I trudged through snow that was beginning to lie deep.
“Damn this weather!” I thought. As I entered the building, I braced myself for the temperatures I would face 86 flights up.
I must be off my freakin head, I thought. I searched for Jake on the 86th floor but there was no sign of him. Perhaps he saw sense after all. I thought. There was no-one around. The tourists had left for the day and no-one else in their right mind wanted to be so high up in the atmosphere during a winter storm. I turned around and made my way to leave, just as I heard a voice call my name. It was Jake. He looked upset.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Jake shook his head and stared at his snow-covered boots. “It’s not good, Willow.”
I felt my knees buckle slightly. I knew instantly he was referring to the child, Billy. “What can we do?” I asked. “There must be something we can do to help.”
“They need to find $35000 for a new treatment plan. It’s the boy’s last hope.”
I shuddered, “Where are they gonna find that kind of money?”
Jake shook his head in despair. “I’ve no clue. What about you, do you know any rich benefactors?”
I shook my head. No-one in my world had that kind of money to give away.
“Do you want a hot chocolate? I’ve only got another hour to go and then I’ll be finished.” He asked, swiftly changing the subject
“Yes, but let me help you and then we can both get out of here,” I offered.
Jake touched my arm, “Look, about before…I’m sorry for snapping at you…I didn’t mean to…just got a lot on my mind, you know?” That was the first time it struck me that Jake would be losing his job too.
“It’s ok. I can see you have a lot on your mind,” I comforted.
The remainder of the cleaning shift passed quickly as we shared the tasks of the job. There were no tourists to get in the way of the mopping and I donned a pair of plastic gloves in preparation for emptying the bins on the observation platform. Once the job was done, I threw the gloves in the trash bin and cleaned my hands with the hand sanitizer. The snow was falling horizontally at this height as the wind blew ferociously from the east. I looked over towards the Hudson River and drank in the intoxicating views. There was something truly magical about being up the Empire State Building during a snowstorm.
“Thanks for helping tonight, you did a grand job, so you did,” said Jake.
“It was nothing really,” I said, feeling a tad despondent at the news. “35 thousand dollars? How can that be? Who has that type of money lying around?”.
We had reached Herald Street underground and were about to go our separate ways when Jake noticed a sign saying that his subway line to Queens 104 Street would be out of order for the duration of the evening.
“Shit! What am I gonna do now?” he asked staring at me.
“You’ll have to stay with me,” I said.
“No. I can’t do that,” he responded. “That wouldn’t be right.”
What is the matter with this guy? I thought. It’s a freakin snowstorm and it’s now 15 degrees below freezing.
“Fine. Well, sleep out in the snow then,” I said huffily. “See how long you last out there.”
Jake relented. “Are you sure that’s Ok with you?” he asked. “I don’t want to put you out or anything.”
“Look. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do for you,” I smiled, bad mood lifting slightly. “I’ll make you up a nice bed on the couch,” I said. Jake smiled.
“Ok then. Hell’s Kitchen it is,” he said as we jumped on the subway to my neck of the woods.
By the time we arrived back at the apartment, it had gone past 10:00pm.
“Let me order us some takeaway and a nice bottle of wine,” Jake offered.
“If you like…I’ll put the kettle on.”
As I stood alone in the cold kitchen, I pondered my situation. I was fond of Jake, but circumstances had hardened me towards getting into another relationship, and besides, I was still technically married to Rick.
I fetched the spare duvet wrapped in a floral cabbage print by Cath Kidston and placed it on top of the couch. The apartment had not yet warmed up and I could tell that Jake was still cold.
“Can I get you another blanket or something?”
I noticed that he was chittering as he sat on the edge of the couch.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Willow, but I can’t seem to heat up. My hands and feet are like blocks of ice,” he looked worried.
“Yes. I can see that,” I said slowly as I quickly googled the signs of hypothermia. Jake was very pale. I felt like I should act quickly.
“Lie down on the couch,” I instructed. “I need to get you out of these clothes,” Jake was growing paler and shook incessantly as I pulled off the outer layers of his clothing. He still found the energy to joke with me, “Now don’t you be taking advantage of me, Willow.” As worried as I was, I started to laugh a little.
“Fat chance,” I replied.
I rushed off and fetched my faux fur hot water bottle and a pair of the thickest socks I could find. I lay the hot water bottle on his stomach between his t-shirt and under his jumper. Then I bundled every blanket and duvet I had on top of him. I turned the thermostat up to the highest temperature then made Jake drink from a huge mug of hot tea.
Ever so gradually the heat began to return to his body as his pallor improved.
“I think I’m getting you back, Jake,” I stated, as I checked his symptoms with my first aid page on the iPad. “I think you’re going to be ok.”
Jake lay on the couch and stared at me. His stare lasted a second or two longer than it should have. I looked away. I turned off the light and bid him goodnight.
“If you feel bad during the night, you know where I am,” I said, as I rushed off to my room.
I shut the bedroom door behind me and stood for a moment, staring at my surroundings.
“Nope. This is not happening,” I said sternly to myself. “I am not falling for this man.”
I jumped into bed and pulled the last remaining thin blanket over me. I wondered what the yellow book would have to say about this situation.
Early the next morning, I was awoken by the sound of po
ts and pans being clattered in the kitchen. The events of the previous night slowly came back to me as I remembered I had a house guest. I pulled the thin blanket up under my chin just as there was a knock on the door.
“Willow? Are you awake? I made you some coffee.”
“Come in,” I said coyly, feeling embarrassed that Jake was once again seeing me in my pj’s.
He placed the mug of coffee down on the bedside table then scanned the small room.
“Jeez. I feel bad. You must have been freezing last night. I’m sorry for taking all your bedding.”
I smiled, “You needed it more than me.”
“I guess I did, didn’t I? Feeling grand today though…and er…thanks for looking after me so well last night.”
“It’s nothing. I ‘d do anyone a favour,” I smiled.
“Oh, by the way, we have the day off. D’Arcy’s is closed for the day. The snowstorm was so bad last night that there’s no way we’re gonna get through to Queens this morning.”
I brightened. “Really?”
“So, I figured…how about a nice walk along by the Hudson? Then I’ll take you for breakfast at one of my favourite Italian cafes.”
“That sounds nice…but are you sure you want to brace the cold after last night?” I asked, concerned about his health.
Jake flexed his muscles. “You’re looking at tough Irish stock, Willow, a little snowstorm is not going to stop me,” he said.
“Ok. Then out you go and let me get dressed,” I commanded. I closed the door behind him and caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror. There was a smile on my face.
***
The winter walk alongside the choppy shores of the Hudson lasted a little under ten minutes. As we neared Gino’s Italian Eatery, I exhaled a sigh of relief. I could bear the cold no more.
On arrival, Jake bundled me into a window-side table. It had the best view in the house. Jake handed me a grubby, fingerprint stained, plastic-covered menu and suggested the Eggs Benedict. I chose the Bruschetta and a black coffee. As the waitress took our order, a youngish male in his early 30s approached us.