The West Side's Sidestory

NYC

I was sitting down at the coffee table in my room.  I felt uneasy, and it didn't help living in a  no noise isolated apartement in the middle of New York City. The steaming tea pot in front of me slowly lost it's heat while I blankly stared around the room reminiscing about my job. I never made it further than the stupid job of a simple cleaning lady, just like most of the girls and women in the neighboorhood. Here, only the people wind up who've already lost their chances in life. I could not name one family around here who can pride themselves with some sort of stability. Just recently, I even heard of a wife who prostituted herself just to get her kids fed and her husband happy, at least sort of. It is depressing living here and I still do not know what to do about it.

My room is small and lackluster, with used furniture by at least a dozen former tenants and only little decoration I hardly could afford. Some pictures, a mirror and my beloved coffee table (which is rather a garden furniture, if it was not to stand inside) were my only treasures I really like in my own space; the desk and the bed are just screwed together metal and wood frameworks enclosed by the yellow wall with one window to the backyard, a jungle of laundry lines. From outside I could hear car engines starting, people yell and different tones of music come from every corner of the next crossroad. 

It is the one day in the week, sunday, that is my free day. It's not much, but more than the standard. All the other days regularly occupy my to clean in a clothing shop in the next city district. The one for the riches. For some years now I am trying to get by, but I know, this seemably temporary job is already continuing on a longterm basis and the chances for better are bad. I sigh. I never thought of my teenage years running by like this and it seems even more tragic to me that it was written all along. Having been upbrought solely by my mother who, even though she cared just enough for me as a child, could not get a hold of her excessive drinking and killed herself when her only daughter was merely 16, I needed to make choices for myself from an early age on.

Only now I realized how I never considered giving up as an option. I had taken the grief with me through the struggles I had to go through, just so I could be proud of myself. Iwould love to see myself as a heroin for having found a way to cope, but I just couldn't. I know how I am simply hanging on the line, swinging myself through the smallest successes one could define. Because it was my pride I could not let go of. I sublet the other room of my apartement, sold half my closet and cook only the cheapest I could find in the market, but I cannot do it to myself to let my chin sink down to my chest.

I looked at the cold cup of tea in my hand. It could possibly be because of my mother's death and that I wanted to carry on some sort of legacy if there was any, or just the anxiety of how I would drown if I let myself fall into the pain I was carrying. Warm summer air dragged itself through the open window and filled the room with an unbearable intensity which I knew too well, especially when I was alone. I brushed my dress down my legs as I stood up, went to the kitchen and let the tea enjoy the uncomfortable atmosphere by itself.

"Verona! What do you want to eat today?" I shouted in front of the open refrigerator checking it's content. "Nothiiiiiing" my flatmate who was Italian like me sang as she swang her door open and pranced around the kitchen table. I gave her a questioning look but Verona was too excited to notice. "Tonight is the school dance I told you about! No need to eat, but need to look good in this baby right here" she said as she pulled out a cute colourful dress from behind her door.  Verona sat down and let her head rest on her hands. "You know, I've heard the Jets and the Sharks are meeting at the dance today, and you know how we should not turn down an opportunity like this" she smiled. I had to smile as well and turned around to my friend. "I sure could use some good dancing today.." I hesitantly nodded.

"Perfecttt, and you know what else? I got the perfect dress for you in the back of my closet, you know, the dark green one?" "Mh-Hm" "I am so excited you don't even know! All of the boys will be there, and I'm thinking of getting one for myself tonight" Verona smirked and still didn't stop twirling around. "Girl, you know all of them, each and everyone, got some dirt on their hands. Either the Jets or the Sharks or anyone who gets inbetween. You better be careful" "Then what about you, aren't you absolutely needing some right now? 'Cause you absolutely look like it." Verona pierced me with an intense look, but I just laughed. "Right, tell me as soon as you can get one of those bad boys for the both of us, then we'll see" We both chuckled and gossiped a little about the new hot topics at her college, before we took our time to get ready for the dance.

"Woah, You look great! And, oh my god, look at me" Verona said as she passed the mirror and stopped right in front of it to check herself out. I giggled and stood behind my  friend to see myself in the mirror. "Don't I look too... dull?" I asked out loud. The dress was beautiful indeed, and I liked it very much, but I just always had this insecurity of not fitting in or worse, standing out. And standing out because I was underdressed was the last thing I wanted. Verona just finished her lipstick and stopped to look at me through the mirror. "Are you kidding me? You look great, just right and so.. elegant." She looked me up and down. "If not half the men are in love with you by the end of the evening, i have no idea of true beauty" Verona set her arms on my shoulders and looked Y/N straight in the eye while the corners of her mouth subtly went up. I looked at Verona and, again, realised how pretty my amica was. The both of us hugged it out and left for the dance.