“Did you know,” I challenge with a grin, “this entire area was overrun with . . . how should I put this? Not so family-friendly shows and businesses until recently? Maybe the ‘Save the Theaters’ guy is the reason for the clean-up.”
She laughs. “I did know that. I remember my parents specifically avoiding Times Square when we came to see The Phantom of the Opera.”
Her parents weren’t much different from my own. “Mine too. It’s amazing at night, with all the lights and sounds, but they wouldn’t do more than drive by. Amber and I would press our noses to the car windows and gawk.”
Déjà vu sweeps over me. “We were right about here in my dream—” I stop. Ruby’s head tilts back, her eyes taking in the billboard above us. “—when we stopped and I pointed at one of those signs and told you someday your name was going to be up there.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in me, Brett Pratt.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s like George Michael sang ‘You’ve gotta have faith’.” It’s a cheesy joke, and inappropriate at the moment, but my nerves are all jumbled.
I check my watch. It’s after 3 PM; time has flown by and there are still so many things I want to see and do with her. “By the way, take a look at Times Square as we walk by. I’m not stopping. I’m not sure your dad will be pleased I exposed you to that craziness on your first weekend here.” I hold her hand tightly and hurry through the crowds taking pictures and stopping left and right to point at things. The heavy police presence keeps my heart rate in check.
“Hi, Times Square! Bye, Times Square!” She waves.
“Turn around and you’ll see the ball that drops for New Years,” I point out without stopping. “Oh, and a huge billboard of Marky Mark in his underwear.” Seriously, Calvin Klein, leave hope for us regular guys.
At Broadway and W 42nd St., I turn left. The Empire State Building comes into view, looming high above the smaller skyscrapers on our walk.
“Oh, look, the Empire State Building!” She points, bouncing on her toes. It’s endearing how unashamed she is about her excitement. There is no trying to play it cool where Ruby is concerned. “I’m impressed with your tour guiding skills, Mr. Pratt. If I could keep you in my pocket as a little navigator when I’m lost or don’t know where to go, that would be great.”
“Like Tinkerbell? ‘Second star to the right’ and all that . . .” I slap my forehead. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe . . . clearly, Amber makes me watch too many Disney movies. She was kind of obsessed with Tinkerbell and Peter Pan.” And I’m clearly an idiot. Are my cheeks red? They feel flushed, I don’t embarrass easily, but wow am I embarrassed right now.
Ruby bites her lips, restraining a giggle. She clears her throat. “I’m an Ariel fan, myself.”
My lips are sealed. I will not admit to knowing the lyrics, I will not admit to knowing the character. Nope. “Uh, yeah, sure I know bit about her.” I lie through my teeth.
I slow my pace. Across the busy street is Bryant Park and behind it is the New York City Public Library.
“When I’m not dancing or studying, can you guess where I will most likely spend the majority of my time? Did you know that it’s the second largest public library in the U.S?”
Of course she knows this. “I may have heard that once.”
The light turns red. We follow the sea of tourists across 6th Avenue, to a set of wide stairs, and come to a stop at a massive granite water fountain.
I look around the crowd. A younger woman sits nearby, supervising her toddler. “Hang on, I’ll be right back,” I tell Ruby.
“Excuse me,” I ask, maintaining my distance, so I don’t frighten the woman. “Would you have change for a dollar by any chance?” I glance over my shoulder. Ruby watches me with curiosity.
“I might.” The woman digs into her diaper bag.
“What was that about?” Ruby asks when I return to her side.
I open my palm containing a pile of pennies, dimes, nickels, and one quarter. “Make a wish.”
Wishes made, we cross over the grass toward the massive library. Ruby’s face is brimming with anticipation. Next to dancing on a stage, I may have discovered her heaven on earth.
“Do you want some random facts about the library?” With a teacher for a mother and a doctor for a dad, I’ve visited here many times. I’m an encyclopedia full of information on this particular subject.
“Does a sloth like to eat leaves?” Uhhh, I attempt to control my confusion from appearing on my face. Does a sloth eat leaves? My brows draw together despite my best effort. “Sorry.” She giggles. “Yes, please share some random facts with me.”
“Three cool things. One, did you know we are currently walking above miles and miles of bookshelves?”
“You don’t say . . .”
Her tone changes.
“Random fact number two: the two lions around the building at the front entrance have names. Did you know that?”
“Really? What are they?”
“They were originally both called Leo after two library benefactors, but when the Depression hit the city in the thirties, the mayor changed their names to Patience and Fortitude.”
“Very interesting.”
“Last, but not least, fact number three: the two dry fountains out front behind Patience and Fortitude are named Beauty and Truth. They both contain inscriptions from religious writings.”
“Look at you, knowing a bunch of random facts and stuff. I’m impressed.”
“You already knew that stuff, didn’t you?”
“What? No. Nope. Just learned them all right now from you.”
I stop. Ruby continues walking until my arm slingshots her back and her chest collides with mine. “You’re a terrible liar, Ruby Kaminski.”
“I’ll have to work on that,” she says, breathless.
“Don’t work too hard on it.” I tap her nose for the second time today. My hand has a mind of its own, and apparently Ruby’s adorable little nose is too tempting to resist. I smile at my actions and at Ruby. “I prefer we keep things honest, okay?”
“You don’t have to worry about me. There’s a reason why I’m a terrible liar. I’m normally too honest.”
I’M SO INTO YOU
Ruby
THURSDAY, AUGUST 12
Brett’s lips hover close to mine. I almost close the distance when he blinks and steps back. “Let’s go in and see what else you don’t know.”
I swallow. “I’m sure we could find plenty of things for me to learn.”
Twice. Two times he’s almost kissed me and stopped himself. What is he waiting for? Does my breath smell? I discretely cup my hand over mouth when he’s not looking to check. No, it’s fine. It’s possible he doesn’t want to kiss me. No, he’s the one who keeps pulling me in and breaking the moment. Knowing what I know about Brett, he’s probably waiting for the perfect moment. Any moment his lips meet mine will be perfect. I hope he knows that.
We pass through the front door, and I stop in awe, drinking in the marble columns, tall candelabras, and soaring archways.
“I knew I picked the right city to go to school. I have everything I’ll ever need in this one building.” I’m only partially kidding.
“Everything?” An over-exaggerated pout pulls at his bottom lip.
“Well, maybe it’s missing a thing or two.” I peek up at him, offering him a little smirk.
We walk into the Rose Main Reading Room. I’ve dreamed of researching in this room for years. Ooh my gosh. I stop, awestruck. The floor is lined with row after row of tables and chairs. My eyes travel up and up to the intricate ceiling and cloud murals. I want to find a table and sit down to breathe in the books and study the architecture. We’ve walked past skyscrapers, historic landmarks, and buildings, but this is the most majestic thing I’ve seen all day. This will be my sanctuary.
“Are you going to judge me if I cry?” I whisper, half-joking, but I wouldn’t put it past my tear ducts to leak when I least want them to.
“Ar
e you kidding me? I might cry with you.” His head tilts back, his mouth hanging open as he stares at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter how many times I see this place, I’m in awe of it. Look at the tile work. And that mural.”
I was worried being inside the library would only cause an outpouring of random facts, and I’d completely annoy Brett, but in reality, I’m speechless. I don’t want to say a thing. All I want is to feel the power of the words in this room. So much history, and poetry, and literature, and blood, sweat, and tears in every bound book.
“I can die happy now,” I sigh as we return to the sunlight of the city.
Brett laughs, his arm going around my shoulders and drawing me into his side. “We didn’t explore half of the building or the collections on display, so I don’t think you can die yet.”
“Okay,” I yield. “Once I explore every nook and cranny of the library, then I can. It might take a few years.” I chuckle. “I can’t believe we spent two hours in there. Actually, who am I kidding? I could’ve spent all day in there and not have noticed.” Spinning in the direction I want to head, I ask, “Onto the Empire State Building?”
“Let’s do it, but stay close as we cross streets. Those taxis don’t stop.”
***
The closer we get to the Empire State Building, the faster my heart beats. There can’t be a more perfect place for Brett and me to have a moment than looking over the city from the top.
When I went with my parents, I remember looking through the iron fencing and thinking how vast the city was. Miles and miles of buildings and bridges and waterways. The wind blew through my hair. I wanted to jump over the ledge and fly above it all. I knew it was the closest I would get to flying.
The line to get inside the building is a mile long down the sidewalk. There are four other lines we’ll have to wait in to get tickets and get on the elevators. It’ll take hours before we’re able to get to the top. I don’t want to waste my time with Brett in lines, but I so badly want to visit the observation deck with him.
“I didn’t really think this through.” My eyes travel down the hoard of people behind the rope. A sinking feeling in my stomach takes over. “The Empire State Building might not have been the greatest idea if we’re trying to make the most of our time.”
“We can skip it. There are so many other things to do.”
“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering and blink rapidly to ward off tears.
Brett’s head dips, his eyes catching mine. “Hey, why the long face?”
“I just . . . ” I wanted that moment. The Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan moment on top of the Empire State Building when they just know. I want to know what’s going to happen between us. I need a revelation. But I’m not going to tell Brett that. Do not cry, Ruby. You will not cry. “I wanted to go up there and have this . . . moment with you.”
As though he can sense how close I am to a breakdown, Brett brings me to his chest and hugs me firmly. “Ruby, we can stay and wait if you want. Or we can plan it and come another time,” he says against my hair. “We will have that moment, I promise.”
I lean back, tilting my head to look up at him. “Will we?” Does he know the moment? Can he read my thoughts? Am I that transparent?
Brett grins. His eyes search my face for something. I wish I knew what. “I want to kiss you.” His thumb strokes my cheek. His words barely a whisper. “But I can honestly say I’m scared to.”
My breath catches. “Brett, I’ve only kissed two people. Do you realize how scared I am? What if I’m not very good at it? What if Mitchell didn’t know any better? What if Jimmy didn’t say anything because he was willing to kiss anyone? What if it’s not perfect?” Why can’t I shut up? Shut up, Ruby!
“I think we need to discuss how this will work.”
“This?” Is he talking about us kissing? My mind is useless when I’m this close to Brett’s lips. Did I scare him off with my chatter about Jimmy and Mitchell? Why did I even mention them? Stupid other boys. They’re the last thing on my mind when I’m with Brett. Quiet, mouth.
“You and I. That, this.” He grins. Can he read my thoughts?
“Um, right. Okay.” I look around at the city that never sleeps. This is clearly not the time or place to have this conversation. “Want to go back to my place? We could order take-out and talk, or whatever.”
Brett leans closer. He’s going to kiss me after all. “This one doesn’t count.” He presses his lips against my forehead. “For the record, I’m not afraid of kissing you because I’m worried about doing it right.”
“But maybe I am,” I whisper.
“That’s impossible.” He winks. “Let’s go.”
***
I flip on the light inside the door and toss my bag onto the kitchen countertop. “This is me.” My apartment looks so sparse and drab with only a mattress in the corner and a futon facing the TV. “I’ll need to spruce it up some to give it real Ruby flair. Give it time.”
“Ruby flair, huh? I think I see some Brett flair already.” His eyes waggle as he looks at the corner of my apartment.
The paper planes hanging above my bed are such a normal fixture to me now, I didn’t think about him noticing them. Why does it make me so embarrassed? “It wouldn’t be home without them.”
“What else would you add to make it yours?”
“First, I need curtains to block out the dang sunlight.” I point to the two windows lining the back wall. “Two mornings in a row I’ve been blinded awake. Maybe I’ll get some floral ones. I’ll also need a splash of color on the black futon, too, maybe some teal or yellow throw pillows. And my dad is sending your artwork so I can hang those.” I walk over to my bed. “I also want to get some sort of room divider to block off my mattress from the rest of the apartment. Maybe an Asian screen or . . . or maybe I’ll get a shutter type screen and paint the panels different colors. So many possibilities.” I can’t help but giggle when I turn to face him. “It’s quite the spacious bedroom, don’t you think?”
“It’s New York. Cole’s place isn’t much bigger.” I think he’s trying to make me feel better.
I shrug. “I love it because it’s mine.”
“Hmmm, what’s this?” Brett kneels in front of my TV where my stack of VHS tapes rest against the wall. “Interesting.” He waves a tape over his head. “Ruby’s dance recital ’92. We’re totally watching this.”
I only brought a couple of my home videos, but I wanted them for references, just in case, when I need to do my own choreography.
“Dangit. I forgot to dance in the streets for you.”
“You were going to dance in street for me?” He sits, scooting up against the wall. “Go for it, right here.” He laughs, opening his arms wide.
“Well, I joked about it when we were on the phone. I’m not going to dance in here. There’s no room,” I explain, but really I’m trying to get out of it. I could dance in front of hundreds of people on a stage with bright lights shining on me, but a private show for Brett? Talk about intimidating.
“Fine. I’ll let it slide, this time.” He pushes himself up from the floor and moves to the futon. “Let’s talk while we wait for the pizza,” he suggests, tapping the seat next to him
I hesitate. We came here to talk, but am I ready to talk? Talking means figuring out the logistics, and the reality that he’s going to Penn State four hours away, and I’ll be here. We’ll be lucky to see each other every few weeks. I’m not ready to see him go. I don’t want him to go.
“I won’t bite.” Why does he have to be so enticing? Those dang blue eyes. I’m a fish, tempted by the food dangling on the edge of a hook. They lure me in. Although, I don’t think I’d mind if he took me home for dinner.
My smile is shaky at best as I slide next to him. There’s not much room on the futon to have a lot of space. My leg is flush against his. I tuck my ankle under my other knee, attempting casual even though my nerves are rattling.
“Okay.” I exhale the pressure building
in my lungs. He can probably hear my heart galloping in my chest. “Let’s talk.”
“I’m going to be honest here. When Amber told me about your letter and about you coming to NYU, I didn’t think beyond getting here and seeing you. I didn’t have a plan.” He shifts in his spot, turning his body toward mine as much as he can on the small couch. “All I thought about was how we had to meet. If nothing else, I wanted to know you in person.”
And that’s all I needed, just to see him in person, to meet the boy behind the paper planes. Or so I thought. But after today . . .
“That changed the moment I saw you.” Brett pries open my clenched hands, taking my fingers between his. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time right now, so I’m not going to beat around the bush. Do you know what Amber told me before I came here?”
I’m nervous to ask, but I force out the question. “What?”
“She told me I was in love with you—”
He what? How could he . . . someone crawled inside my brain and erratically scrambled up my thoughts. No. That’s crazy. Does he? Could he love me back?
“—and how you must love me too. I thought she was full of it. How in the world could we have fallen in love over letters?” He lifts my fingers, toying with the tips as he inhales deeply. “She was right. I fell for you at some point over those six months, and it didn’t matter that I’d never held your hand or touched your skin. Actually, it’s better this way. I know you, Ruby. I know your heart and your mind, and your quirky facts. I didn’t have to know you physically to fall for those things.” A rush of air escapes him. “So, am I crazy?”
My heart presses against my chest, begging to be released. He loves me? Don’t cry, Ruby. Do. Not. Cry. Okay, tear ducts. Fine. You win.
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 26