That I Would Be Good

Chapter Seventeen

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” ― Oscar Wilde

     After I left home for New York I didn’t keep in contact with anyone, except for the once or twice a month phone conversations with my parents.  Not Gina, not Ziggy and certainly not Leo.  I wanted a fresh start, and the best way to do so was to not associate with the people I knew from high school.

     Living in big city New York was so different than small town Wilmer.  There was always something exciting going on here.  In Wilmer the only exciting thing that happened was when I pulled a prank of good old Dick or the car wash backed up.

       I was taken completely by shock my first few months with Dolores.  I couldn’t believe how many muggings, car accidents, and crimes happened a day here.  But after six months it was like hearing about your mom bringing home eggs from the super market.  It wasn’t interesting or exciting.  It was just something that happened.

     Walking home alone after dinner would have been something that once scared me, and I would have hailed a cab over, but not anymore.  I was an equipped New Yorker.  I had my pepper spray, mace and even taken a few self-defense classes.  I also knew what streets to walk down and what ones to not even think of getting within a one block radius of. 

      When I heard someone running up behind me, I instantly turned full around, and had my hand out of my purse in one second flat holding my mace out.  I looked at the person straight in the face, and then wanted to smack them.  Who else would be running down the busy New York sidewalk at night after me than good old Ferris.

     “What the hell is the matter with you?” I scowled putting the mace back in my purse. 

      “The doctors are still trying to figure that out,” he answered rubbing the back of his neck nervously.  “Do you always attempt to spray your dates with mace when they come to walk you home, or is it just something you save special for me?”

     I rolled my eyes and stalked ahead of him.  He jogged after me and matched his pace with mine so we were walking right next to each other.  He kept a safe distance away where we weren’t touching but it looked like we were together.

      “So can you just tell me the type of person you were in high school?” he asked nonchalantly.

       Looking at him from the corner of my eye I groaned.  “Why are you so desperate to know?”

      “Because I want to know you better.”  He smile goofily and scrunches his face up so one eye closed.

      “Why?”

      “You seem interesting, like someone who needs a friend.”

      “I think our definitions of “friend” are different.”  I put my hands in my coat pockets.  We walked past a sewer vent and I scrunched my nose up in distaste at the smell.  For as long as I had been in New York I could never get used to the disgusting stink of everything.

      “No, really.  I want to be your friend,” he replied sincerely.  “I’m not really the sleeze you have me pegged as.  I was only joking.”

      I gave him a look that read I didn’t believe him, but he looked back with a serious expression.  He looked like he was telling the truth.  But people can be good liars when they want to be.  There is no doubt about that.  What was the worst that could happen if I told him about how I was in high school?  If he told Dolores she wouldn’t care.  She already hired me and wouldn’t go look for someone else to hire, I knew that much.