Lessons In Being A Flapper

by Angela Smith

  “Autumn, let me set something straight here. You work for me therefore you do what I tell you. If I say go to the fucking moon, you go to the fucking moon, capeesh? And don’t go playing your trump card by dragging my granny into this either. I’d rather she didn’t know I was sending you to New York, so just tell her you’re going on your own accord.” I had a trump card? Obviously Sophie was a little afraid of what Marisol would do if she knew that my relationship was being wrecked by her own great-granddaughter. I wouldn’t tell her though because I had to learn to deal with things on my own for once.

  “I completely understand, Sophia. Thanks for the opportunity. Now can you please tell me when I leave for the City That Never Sleeps?” I had to be sweet through gritted teeth because right now I wanted to jump across the desk and wring her scrawny little chicken neck.

  “Your flight departs LAX tomorrow at 2:00 P.M.”

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to break the news to Clara, Bayani, Marisol and Jeanette in that order. My dog’s opinion came first, of course, but I was more nervous about telling my newly minted boyfriend and my Medium-cum-friend that I was leaving for an entire month. Tomorrow was December 2, which meant I wouldn’t be returning until the New Year at least. That was a long time to be away from someone you had just started dating. Damn Sophie and her damn plans. Being apart for that long might just be the straw that breaks us. We need time to get to know each other better, to learn about each other’s flaws and insecurities. How could we possibly do that if I was almost 3,000 miles away for an entire month?

  I had to tell him somehow and pray that we could make it through this. It was our first official bump since we started dating. Less than one month into our relationship and we were already being separated. I hated fate because it gave me Bayani and now it was going to cruelly take him away from me just as quickly as he had arrived.

  I decided to start by telling Bayani my big news. After work, he and I left together and I suggested we go back to his house. I could tell he was a little puzzled by my vague answers to questions but he didn’t hesitate to take me back to his place. So he is your average man, after all. No man can resist taking a woman home, it seems. Not even the least pushy man in the universe.

  I had never been to Bayani’s house. I only knew that it was within ten minutes of my own home and fifteen or so from Marisol’s. His neighborhood was a cute little residential area that had a mixture of upper class and middle class residents dotted within it and I could see instantly why it suited him so well here. Every home had expertly trimmed shrubs and perfectly mowed lawns. I felt like I had landed on the set of Desperate Housewives minus the housewives. That show could have used a piece of eye candy like Bayani, I thought to myself.

  Bayani’s apartment, which he had lived in for five years, he said, was on the third floor and was much more spacious than I expected. It was obviously a bachelor pad; with a large flat screen TV on the wall, a gaming system on the stand below and a massive couch where he could have his friends over to watch football. I found a few personal touches though, like a photo of his parents and him at his college graduation (his grandparents were from Thailand; his mother was Thai and his father American, so he was a Thai-American he said). I liked the look of his parents. They looked like the kind of hospitable people you’d want as your in-laws. Not that I was even thinking of marrying their son yet. Ok. I’m lying. I was thinking of it because he was everything I had ever dreamed of rolled into one perfectly wonderful package. But I knew we had a long way to go before we could even consider getting married, realistically.

  When he motioned for me to sit on the couch and tell him what was wrong, I did. I didn’t hesitate to blurt out the truth, that I would be leaving tomorrow for at least a month to research clothes (of all things!)

  “WHAT?! Are you fucking serious? This is all Sophie’s doing, isn’t it?” he said, pacing up and down angrily as the wheels turned in his head. God, he was sexy when he was angry. I had the urge to get up and yank him into the bedroom for a hot-and-heavy makeout session but managed to control myself due to the urgent topic at hand.

  “Yes, it’s Sophie’s doing. She thinks I’m ‘the perfect candidate’ which is pure BS. I’ve only been with the company a little over two weeks, how can I be the best bet to go off to NYC already?”

  “Well, then you just have to tell her you can’t go. It’s ridiculous of her to dump this on you now and I know it all comes down to her feeling inferior the other day,” he said. I didn’t really like the idea that he knew how Sophie was feeling. That means that he and she were pretty intimate at one point and could easily be again, given the chance.

  “I can’t. It’s already booked and I’m going. It’ll be a new experience for me but I’m sure things will work themselves out. Plus, I’ll be close enough that I can pop home on the sly for Christmas with my mom.” Bayani looked at me with a scowl. I don’t think he objected to me being with my family at Christmas but I definitely think he objected to me going 3,000 miles away when Sophie told me to.

  “Are you seriously going to do what she wants? Are you her slave now? I mean, this is just insane. She tells you to do something and you do it. What about your life here, Autumn? What about us?” Bayani said, pressing his index fingers into his temple as if he couldn’t even believe he was having this conversation.

  “What about us, Bayani? It’s not like we can’t make it work. I’ll only be gone for a month, not a year!”

  This was quickly turning into a rather silly argument that I couldn’t diffuse. Was he really going to fight with me over this? It’s not like I could disobey Sophie – she’s my boss! She signs my paycheck! Lord knows I needed the money.

  “Whatever. Do what you want. I’ll support you but that doesn’t mean I think it’s the right decision,” he said, sitting down next to me and enveloping me in a hug. I knew exactly where he was coming from. I didn’t think it was the right decision either, but right now it was the only plausible decision I was being offered.

  Marisol took my quick announcement a little better though she was rather curious why I was heading off to New York so suddenly when I had never mentioned plans of going there before now. I hated lying to her, but I kept telling myself I wasn’t lying, just omitting the truth. Luckily, Bayani and Jeanette offered to help out with watching Clara while I was gone. I made both of them promise to send me messages and photos of her throughout the month. She was like my child so being separated from her for so long was going to be hard on me.

  I packed my bags later that night and got everything I needed in order for when I had to leave in the morning. I wrote a short, but sweet, letter to Esteban telling him to hold my mail or drop it at 3 Summerhill Road if possible while I was away. I stuck the letter in my mailbox, climbed into bed and decided that worrying about what was going to happen in the coming days was going to get me nowhere. Instead, I read a few chapters of A Walk To Remember by Nicholas Sparks – more to renew my hopes of true love than anything else – and was passed out within the hour. It had definitely been an eventful and tiresome day and tomorrow promised to be just as exhausting.

  Bayani took the day off of work on Tuesday (much to Sophie’s dismay, I’m sure) so that he could bring me to the airport and try to convince me to stay. I knew one thing I would miss while away and that was kissing him. The thought of not being able to touch him or see him for an entire month made me misty-eyed. I hoped beyond hope that we could make up for the time lost when I returned.

  “All set, cupcake?” he said, picking up my bags and putting them into the trunk of his car with ease.

  “As set as I’ll ever be,” I replied. We arrived a little early at LAX but that was OK because Bayani said that going through security at this time of year was going to be a nightmare in every sense of the word. It would be my luck to get one of those insane security guards who want to feel you up just because they can. I hoped they didn’t ask to search under my clothes because if they did, they’d have another thing coming! />
  No, I’m not harboring melons laced with pepper spray under my shirt, officer. Those are my breasts, I thought as I looked at the sea of people waiting to be patted down and scanned like criminals.

  Since Bayani didn’t have a ticket, he wasn’t allowed into the departure area with me so we had to say our goodbyes near the constantly opening doors. It was so noisy and awkward being in the middle of thousands of stressed out people wanting to board their planes that we decided to step outside for a minute. After we had gotten all the mushy stuff out of the way (he actually said he loved me!! Eek!!) it was time for me to go. I was just standing on my tiptoes to give Bayani one last kiss and get a good image of him to store in my memory for when I was lonely, when I felt something cold and wet land on my face. I looked up and found the oddest thing: It was snowing. In California. Delicate little flakes came down from the sky, glistening in all directions and painting the scenery white. However, just as soon as it started, it stopped. I took it as a sign that magic could happen and I knew then that I would do whatever it took to have my very own happy ending.

  I’ve never been a fan of flying – that is until I actually flew in a jumbo jet. I had my own assumptions and fears about being so high in the air, but really when you think about it, flying is just as safe as driving a car or taking a train. Any mode of transportation had its issues, I told myself, trying to quell the heightening fear in my chest. As I boarded flight 272 bound for JFK airport in New York City (New York!! I still couldn’t wrap my head around it!) I found that I was sitting next to a woman my age and dressed as if she was going to the arctic. A New Englander if I ever did see one. California may be mild but the east coast at this time of year was bound to be frigid.

  “Excuse me, I think this is my seat,” I said, pointing towards seat 17A, near the window. I didn’t want to be rude and jump over this woman’s legs, alternately looking like I was going to rob her or hump her, so I politely asked her to let me by.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get out of your way. These seats are so tight – you’d have to be a size zero to fit in here – which, let’s face it, most people aren’t!”

  “I know! I was afraid they were going to ask me to buy an extra seat because I’m over 100 pounds!” I replied. Which was partly true, the untrue part being that I wasn’t paying for the seat, Fashion and Flare was.

  The woman introduced herself as Maxine, but everyone called her Maxie, she said. She was tall and thin like most of the women you’ll meet in California or New York but not overtly thin. She had a heart shaped face and springy Auburn hair that I instantly fell in love with. Some days I missed my curls so much, but that’s what I get for saying I wanted straight hair half my life. You can never really be happy with what you’re given can you? If I was born with straight hair, I’d want curls; if I was born with curls, I’d want straight hair. That’s just the way the cookie crumbled, I guess.

  “So, Maxie, why are you going to New York?” I asked in a voice that didn’t sound like mine. Since when had I become so chatty and outgoing? I had been shy my entire life, blushing furiously at the mere idea of talking to a stranger. Those Flapper lessons were really working out well!

  “I’m going to see my sister uptown and do some Christmassy things with her. How about you?”

  “I’m going for work, but I hope I can fit in some Christmassy things too, while I’m there.”

  We chatted until the pilot came on telling us we would be lifting off soon and that we needed to shut off our cell phones and fasten our seat belts. I felt a touch of apprehension at leaving the ground but I knew I had to do it. I couldn’t be afraid of everything in life. Flying was easy-peasy compared to some of the stuff I’d been through. Once we were safely in the air and an anxiety attack had been averted (takeoffs and landings were the worst. I enjoyed the actual flight the most) I took my laptop out of my bag and began trying to piece together bits and pieces of my past. I didn’t want to tell Bayani or Marisol but one of the main reasons I wanted to go to New York was so that I could take the train into Boston and do some more research on the Bridgewater Triangle. I also wanted to see my mom and a few friends too.

  I found that the Triangle spread through quite a few towns and over 200 square miles. For years people had been reporting strange occurrences like cattle mutilation, orbs, Bigfoot sightings and balls of fire. The center of it all was the Hockomock Swamp, which translated to “where the spirits dwell”. It was also known as the Devil’s Swamp. I got chills just thinking that I had lived in this area for so long not knowing what its history was. According to legend, the area was cursed because the early Colonial settlers had badly mistreated the Native Americans and therefor they put a never-ending curse on the land. I never knew that Native American’s put curses on things; I always thought they were such peaceful people. Maybe I was right but when push comes to shove, some people do things they don’t normally do. I could vouch for that.

  I was really shocked to learn that the area surrounding Hockomock Swamp was where some of the bloodiest battles in history took place during King Phillip’s war. I wondered if all of this somehow was related to my home and myself.

  Before I could finish reading everything on the Triangle, we had landed in New York. I disembarked the plane with a phone number for Maxie, who said to call her if I wanted to meet up while here. She seemed nice enough but I wasn’t sure I’d have time to do anything with her since I had so much to do for work and also research and trips to make for my own personal endeavors. I didn’t have any clue where I was staying so I looked into the packet that Sophie had given me yesterday before I left. She said it included all the info for my trip, including hotel reservations and directions to some of the best shops in the area.

  I thought I had to be imagining things when I read that I was staying at The Plaza. How cool was that? Sophie was being extremely nice to me for someone who was trying to get me out of her hair! Maybe she was hoping that if I enjoyed my stay enough, I wouldn’t come back. Fat chance of that happening!

  The Plaza opened in 1907, a time when rooms at New York’s most luxurious hotel cost only $2.50 a night. Located on Fifth Avenue and Central Park South, the hotel was a hot spot of excitement for generations. It even had connections to some of the most famous faces of the 1920s. I couldn’t wait to get to my room and explore the treasures of this amazing place!

  Having never been to New York City, I think I was a little bit startled to see just how big the city really was. I had read about it in books and saw photos online but actually being here was a whole other experience. I felt like a tiny speck compared to the sky-high buildings and jam-packed streets. Since it was Christmas time, there were festive window displays with reindeer with red noses, snowmen with pipes in their mouths and what seemed like millions of twinkling lights everywhere I looked. Saks Fifth Avenue, Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s had some of the most creative designs I had ever seen and I couldn’t help but stop to stare when the taxi passed each one. It was like being transported to the North Pole, where Christmas magic was floating all around me and an air of hopefulness and possibility silently lurked in the shadows.

  I arrived at my hotel around 7 o’clock in the evening after my cabbie dropped me off a few blocks away so I could stare as long as I liked at the astonishing g sights that surrounded me. The Plaza was even more wondrous than I could have ever expected. The main lobby was so enormous that I didn’t know where to look first. I spotted the grand staircase to my left and the reception desk straight ahead but I couldn’t help feeling like there were a million miles between myself and the man waiting to check me in. To be honest, there probably were since the marble floor seemed to go on forever.

  The grandeur of the place was utterly breathtaking, making me yearn for someone special to share this experience with. I knew how much my mom would have loved to see this and wished that I could just call her and tell her to come visit me here. Our relationship had been strained since my grandmother’s death as we both seemed to blame each o
ther for not fighting harder or doing more. I hoped I could rectify these feelings when I went to see her later this month. I missed having her around to talk to. Marisol has been great, but nothing can compare to your own mother, I learned.

  Once I arrived in my room, I felt like I had been transported into a storybook filled with every luxury a girl could imagine. My guestroom was immaculate and made Marisol’s bedroom seem small in comparison. The bathroom had 24 carat gold plated sinks and a large tub that looked like it could hold twenty; there were heated towel racks on the walls and a large flat screen television above them; back in the bedroom there were so many amenities that I couldn’t even begin to imagine I’d use them all while here. It was just so over-the-top. How did people live like this every day?

  Though I wanted to explore the city and the hotel itself, the warmth and overall feeling of comfort my room gave me didn’t encourage me to leave. Instead I lied down on the bed and let my weary, jet-lagged body rest. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking through the windows and my first night in New York had passed without me even enjoying it.

  Chapter Eight

  The following days passed in a blur. Everything in New York was so fast paced that I had trouble keeping up. I liked my life slow and simple, but here, in the greatest city in the world, things didn’t work that way. I spent most of my days trying to find my way around and was pushed out of the way more than I’d like to admit by overzealous Japanese tourists taking photos or bankers in three piece suits hurrying to Tiffany’s to buy their mistress a diamond bracelet.

  The women of New York were of a different species it seemed. They actually reminded me a lot of Sophie: perfect hair, perfect clothes, pointy, six-inch high shoes and stern faces. They looked like they hadn’t seen a bit of fun in years – if ever. I made a mental note to never become one of these women. Though they had it all, they’re appearance screamed that they were missing out on the real joys of life. After all, if you wore a scowl most of the year, what did that say about your life in general?