by Moondi, Romi
I wiped a broad section of the table and tried not to laugh. “How many people have ever sold a million books? I’m selling a lot though. By May I’ll have twelve thousand dollars made.”
She snorted. “That’s it? You started this SIX months ago. If you worked harder at your job and got another promotion, you would’ve made more money from that.”
My dad turned away from the television to weigh in too. “A better job title will help you find a boy at your age. But we can’t tell him you write books! What will his parents think?” He laughed to himself.
I stared at him incredulously. “What?”
He rose from the couch. “Writing is a nice hobby, but you’re not a kid. It’s time to stop this now and get serious. This will never be a career for you, and don’t you want to save money to buy a house?”
I dropped the cloth I’d been using on the table. “But I AM making money. And I’ll make even more with the next book I write.”
“WHAT?” said my mother, her glare burning straight through me now. “You think you’re going to waste six more months sitting in your room writing…BOOKS?” She made it sound like a book was a Playboy magazine. “What is wrong with you?”
By now I was dumbfounded so I stayed silent.
“Your sister found a boy,” she went on, “got married, and works hard every day to make money for her future.”
My father nodded. “That’s all we need you to do! Married...job...settle down. So why are you doing these different crazy waste-of-time things?”
“It’s YOUR fault.” My mother pointed accusingly at my father. “You were never strict enough with her.”
Never strict enough? Excuse me while I die of laughter.
“MY fault? You always blame me! What should I do? Lock her inside?”
My mother shook her head and stormed off. “I don’t care what you do. But now you pay the price!”
My father muttered to himself then sat back down and started flipping channels angrily. This left me alone in the kitchen, holding back tears with a half-cleared table to deal with.
One thing was certain from this latest parental shit-fit: if I did end up going to Paris, it would tear my family apart.
***
With the family drama of the night before deflating my excitement to see Erik, I realized that just as important as my family, were the people who understood me best. Like my friends.
With that in mind I finally bit the bullet, by texting Laura and telling her about New York. I wanted to clear the air with her in person, so I asked her to meet me for a drink and she agreed. I chose a different place this time, since I was still quite embarrassed by my outburst at our favourite hangout.
This bar had a swank-factor of seven with its art-deco bar stools and black and purple booths. Everything else was shiny and stainless steel. I sat hunched at the bar and ordered a cosmo, since a vodka and Diet Coke seemed beneath this place. I also chose the bar so we could both look ahead, if eye contact became too much.
Laura was running a bit late so I nervously waited, straightening my sparkly headband that didn’t need straightening, and occasionally adjusting my skirt. There’d been no office need to dress up, I just wanted to feel good with my Erik-reunion quickly approaching.
I spotted her blonde curls out of the corner of my eye, and my heart started beating fast. Before doing anything else, she hung her coat over the empty stool beside her. Then at last she finally faced me.
“Hi,” she said, her smile definitely there but reserved.
I nodded. “Hi.”
The bartender made her a pomegranate martini, which she sipped very slowly before finally speaking.
“I can’t believe you’re going to New York,” she said, staring straight ahead at the bar just liked I’d guessed.
“I know. After the last time I saw you, I wasn’t even planning to talk to him again.”
She turned to face me. “Because of what I said?”
“Some of those things, yeah.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with emotion. “Romes you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy. More than any other thing or stupid argument.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. You were making a lot of sense that night. I just wasn’t ready to hear it.”
“But I’m still a true romantic,” she said. “And Dave is too. He’s totally rooting for you guys.” She smiled.
“Oh yeah? Then he’s betting on the three-legged horse with AIDS.”
She burst into laughter. “I mean it though,” she insisted. “We want you both to be happy.”
I frowned. “But is that even possible with someone like Erik? I’m literally going to New York because I want something that isn’t mine. Yet I’m trying to take it anyway. Selfish things like that usually blow up in your face.”
“You never know,” she said, trying to look hopeful.
I smiled. “I think I DO know though, but it’s not enough to stop me. If I didn’t go this weekend, and instead said goodbye over a ‘see ya’ on the phone, it would eat away at me forever. No matter how many years passed...I would always wonder.” I paused. “I need to pull back the curtain to see what’s there.”
“Hopefully it’s not a little old wizard,” she said.
We both laughed.
“It’s weird though,” I said. “Being the villain. It’s almost like...good will only win over evil if I fail.”
“Good and evil isn’t black and white though,” she said. “Not when it comes to this.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Coming from the girl who’s in a committed relationship? Wow.”
“Hey, I’m the first to admit that as the ‘girlfriend,’ I would NEVER want this to happen to me. But that doesn’t mean it’s good versus bad. It just means that...everybody wants to find love, and no one wants to get screwed over. Shit’s bound to happen when those two collide.” She patted me on the shoulder.
“I guess we’ll see how it all turns out. All I know for sure is that my fan base isn’t large.”
“But I’m you’re fan!”
I smiled. “Well thanks, but you know what I just realized? I bet no one in his life knows I even exist.” I slowly nodded. “Not one sibling, not one friend, because why would you mention something so temporary?”
“His cousins know…”
“And they want me dead!” We both laughed. “Imagine if they knew I was going to see him again. They’d probably throw me off the roof of his building!” I shuddered at the memory of their death stares and constant scowls.
“Well whatever, all his friends and family are missing out, because you’re great!” We clinked our glasses and drank to my greatness. Sure.
I took a sip but it didn’t wipe away my lingering thoughts. “You know what this reminds me of?” I said. “This whole being a ‘secret’ he doesn’t talk about?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s just like when the cool kid plays with the smelly kid after school, just because the smelly kid happens to have Super Nintendo.” Laura smiled as I continued. “And when the cool kid leaves he says ‘Don’t let anyone know we hang out. It can be like we’re SECRET friends!’”
Suddenly Laura frowned. “I knew a girl like that once. She only liked me for my ‘Barbie Voyageur Van.’ Bitch.”
I laughed. “So you get it, right? I’m basically the smelly kid in his life, and my vagina is like a dusty Super Nintendo console.” Laura’s eyes widened. “And he happens to love playing ‘Street Fighter,’” I added. “So here we are.”
I shook my head and took another sip.
“No!” she said. “And gross!”
I smiled at her. “Yes! And ick!” We both laughed and clinked our glasses once more.
The cute bartender had apparently been listening to all of this, as we saw him laughing quietly from a few feet away.
“Don’t tell me I’m the only person who’s ever used Super Nintendo in a lady-part analogy!”
He laughed some more and came over. “What’s your next dri
nk? It’s on me.”
Laura and I smiled at each other, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing as me: looks like we found a new hangout!
We ordered more of the same and clinked our glasses a final time.
A moment later I looked at the time on my phone. “Only sixty-five hours to go!”
Sixty-five hours ‘til my last dance with New York City...
Chapter Nineteen
The sun was shining brightly into the aircraft, amidst a perfect blue sky day. To my surprise the weather felt more like spring than winter, and New York City would only be warmer. My hair was curled, my mascara was on, and a cute sparkly scarf adorned my light spring jacket. It was the perfect combination of casual and polished, or so I hoped.
I stretched out my arms in the window seat, relieved no one was seated beside me. With a few minutes left before take-off, I pondered my parents’ icy attitudes for the past several days. Ever since that after-dinner blow-up they hadn’t said much. My dad did drop me off at the airport, but aside from “Have a good trip” he’d been silent. I wasn’t sure how upset this really made me, when I had so much to look forward to in the next three days. I decided to push it far into the corner of my mind. Will hold until further review.
Just when I’d thought no one else would be allowed to board the plane, a no-nonsense businessman walked down the aisle briskly, slowing as he came to my row. He was bald, stern-looking, and kind of old. Probably in his fifties. He checked his ticket and gestured for me to make room. Dammit. As he loaded his bag in the overheard compartment, I noticed that his navy suit was impeccably made. Like with fancy gold buttons and all that high-end shit. It was the classic answer to Erik’s modern “Ryan Gosling stylings.” I decided he was a serious big-wig from Wall Street and sat a little straighter.
Big-wig took his seat next to me with a nod, and not a minute later he was dialing someone on his BlackBerry.
“It’s Stuart,” he said. “Yes, just barely made it. Customs is comical around here.” He paused as the other person spoke. “Absolutely, we won’t be using THIS airport again. Small plane island airports are always better.” He paused again. “Yes, and way more classy too.”
Ooh, well aren’t you fancy!
A flight attendant signaled for him to get the hell off the phone. “Well NOW they’re ready to fly so I’ll call you when I land. Okay. Goodbye.”
He switched his phone off and rolled his eyes.
I rolled my eyes at him harder.
***
I stirred awake to find myself somewhere high in the air between Toronto and New York City. It was only a ninety-minute flight or a typically no-nap flight, but I’d woken up at five a.m. for goodness sake. This is going to be a LONG day.
I yawned and turned to my side, to find my seatmate extremely busy with a copy of the Wall Street Journal.
Only he wasn’t reading it.
Instead he was colouring in random sections of the page with his fancy gold pen.
He coloured relentlessly.
Insanely.
I turned back the other way and hugged myself, terrified.
***
Both times I’d gone to New York with Laura (the previous May when I met Erik, and the December before to meet Internet “man friend” James), we’d always flown to La Guardia and taken a quick cab to the city. Today I’d flown to Newark, and apparently I had to take a bus.
How primitive.
With one large bag over my shoulder and a small wheeled-suitcase behind me (I never packed light), I stepped outside of the terminal like a country girl with Broadway dreams. A moment later I unzipped my jacket and practically squealed. It’s February and it almost feels like summer!
My weather euphoria was halted by the presence of fifteen bus terminals. The signs were inconclusive so I wandered around in search of help. I spotted a family of four who looked the least threatening. “Are you guys going to Manhattan?” I asked.
The lady shook her head. “We’re actually on our way home. But a bus leaves from over there every fifteen minutes.”
She pointed to a terminal nearby and I sighed with relief.
People from all walks of life were on that bus, and I watched them as we sped through the Lincoln tunnel. German tourists, teenage couples, the elderly, and even one Indian family engaged in the standard amount of yelling.
I got off at the last stop on Lexington Avenue, confident in my ability to walk six blocks while carrying luggage.
When I walked past Bryant Park, all the chairs were filled with T-shirt-wearing revellers soaking up the sun.
In February.
It was eerie and amazing.
Not anticipating the weight of my luggage and the warmth of the sun, by the time I arrived at my hotel I was a sweaty hot mess. By now I was freaking out about seeing Erik in thirty minutes, especially when I looked like I’d been tending fields all day.
My stress melted away when the concierge gave me fresh-baked cookies. The way to my heart.
I chowed down the cookies and fixed whatever I could of my hair and make-up. It was strange trying to psych myself up when I was all alone. I always had a wingman or a best friend to help me through these nervous moments, when I felt like projectile-vomiting in someone’s face. But now it was just me and the girl in the mirror. I stared hard at the person who had never even travelled alone before, let alone spent an entire weekend with someone she’d only met once. This was a whole lot different than meeting James for half a day when I was armed with a “best friend chaperone.”
This was a lot more intense.
This was the grand gesture I’d been waiting my whole life to make…
***
The familiar revolving doors of the big-time investment firm awaited me, and I couldn’t have been more nervous.
I wiped the sweat from my palms, and waited for the receptionist to print me a visitor’s badge. She let me through and before I knew it I was hitting the elevator button for the sixty-eighth floor.
In what seemed like an eye-blink later, the elevator dinged and opened at floor sixty-eight.
I felt like I was about to shit my pants.
I slowly walked into the corridor, and presented my visitor’s badge to the same elderly security guard from almost a year before.
He smiled warmly. “I remember you!”
I didn’t know why but I wanted to hug him.
So I did.
He seemed surprised and extremely caught off guard. “Sorry,” I quickly said.
“Sorry? You think I would ever mind being in the arms of a beautiful lady?” He closed his eyes and slowly rocked back and forth. I was certain he’d start singing some Frank Sinatra, but he quickly came to his senses. “He’s in there.” He gestured beyond the glass doors. “And he’s waiting for you.” He winked at me with one of his foggy old eyes and I was off.
Oh god.
I tiptoed into the corridor, noting the CEO’s empty office first. Next I noticed Erik with his back to me, as he sat typing away at his computer. My god, that sexy back. My next instinct for whatever reason was to hide behind a tall plant, which was no more than ten feet from Erik’s office. So I hid there with eyes closed, and no plan of actually coming out to greet him.
I let the seconds pass.
“So…are you going to come out and say hello?”
I gasped at the sound of his familiar voice, which sounded so much sweeter in person. With nowhere left to hide, I slowly emerged from behind the plant, one brown-booted, skinny-jeaned leg at a time.
And that’s when I really saw him, standing before me now. That hair all askew, the dimples in place, the crisp collar of his shirt and that fitted grey suit, the black-rimmed glasses which I found so sexy…I was melting on the spot.
We continued to stare at each other now, from less than two feet away.
It was awkward.
And hot.
“I’m going to hug you now,” he said softly. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me gen
tly towards him. My arms found their way up his shoulders and around his neck. I could smell the cologne on that sexy neck, and in that moment I made a decision: I must ravage you.
He pulled away and searched my eyes, as I tried my very best to hide all my burning desire. Is this what it felt like when Stella got her groove back? Not that I ever had much groove in the first place...
“Come on,” he said, and with his hand on my back (which I loved) he led me to his office.
We both took a seat, him at his desk and me in a chair across from him. I clasped my hands together. He drummed his fingers on the desk.
We stared.
Then laughed.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he quickly said. “It’s my second last day of work and things have been piling up.”
I smiled. “No worries.”
He glanced at his e-mail. “I hope you won’t mind. I need to quickly answer something.”
“Of course,” I said. I grabbed a strand of hair and started twirling it around my fingers as I studied his office. There were piles of paper everywhere and boxes half full, just like the office of a person who was on the way out. Not wanting to dwell on his leaving, I looked out the window instead, taking in the stunning view of Midtown as I twirled my hair some more. Round and round.
When I looked back at Erik he was staring at me with a smirk.
“What?” I said. “Are you jealous you can’t do this with your hair?”
“Oh yes, I go to bed every night feeling jealous about that.”
I smirked back. “Ooh, so guess what? I sat next to a fancy businessman on the plane.” I paused. “He seemed a lot better than you.”
“You’re such a snob. Where is this bastard now? Did you bring him with you for a special weekend? Should I go home now?”
“Actually...he turned out to be insane.” I grabbed some boring finance magazine from his desk. “Pen?”
He passed one over and I started to demonstrate. “This guy had a copy of the Wall Street Journal, but all he did was this.” I coloured in random sections like a maniac.