Ephemeral

Ch1. The Manhattan Skyline

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CHARLIE

I watched two bellboys stacked my luggage on their carts - watched the way one of them had held his breath in attempt to place his inner energy on his biceps just to lift my suitcases from the trunk of the limousine. I suddenly felt a sting of pity for I know how those exceeded twenty kilos.

I would have gladly paid for excess baggage on the airport and take the first class but dozens of bags were too much for my small hands. That and the fact that I felt a bit under the weather made me call our butler in the middle of the night to prepare one of our private jets.  

I ticked an invisible list of my sister's persona inside my head.

1. Joey loves to dress. 

In a day, she can change almost every hour depending on her mood. That was the reason I traveled hundred miles with half of her wardrobe painstakingly squeezed into sixteen suitcases, seven duffel bags and two vanity cases. It was filled with coats, boots, heels, scarves, bonnets, perfumes - any thing with price tag displayed on the latest fashion catalogs.

Maybe it was really wrong to let my sister pack my things - I mean, her things. I told her to just leave those in Melbourne and I'd order new ones, but she insisted in keeping them - clearly not impressed with my fashion sense.  

I looked around, my Burberry glasses gleaming under the lights of massive chandeliers hanging on the high-ceiling lobby of our condominium. I noticed a couple of middle-aged ladies watching me closely as they passed by - perhaps wondering if the girl in front of them wearing a rose gold short dress topped with a dark Cashmere long coat was a Goldman. 

I am a Goldman, yes, but not the one who has been living in this condominium. 

To ease their confusion - and to at least have a reason to stretch my sleeping risorius muscle - I smiled at them.

2. Joey is an uptight person but she's not a snob.

They beamed at me, giggling and holding out their phones, probably texting whoever just to say they bumped into Josephine Vonn Goldman.

It was good that I kept my glasses on so they would not notice that the renowned fashion designer's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. My mind was too occupied by our bizarre situation - it has worn me out to the point that I was perhaps snoring as I slept in my bed earlier at the jet. 

I shook my head and walked ahead, taking into account that I would drop a call to the concierge later on.

The suede heels of my thigh-high boots resounded against the marble floor as I entered the massive lobby - not missing how almost all the staff inside bowed at my presence. I tilted my head as a gesture, trying to be polite and at the same time hiding my awkwardness. This was probably a common thing for Joey for she lives like a celebrity in New York.

But not for me.

Busy doctors, exhausted nurses and grieving family members would not always gape when seeing me. 

I proceeded to the west part of the lobby, holding my Lana Marks handbag. It was funny how the material of my branded clutch was heavier than the things I stuffed inside namely: two candy wrappers, an American express black card, a lip balm, a handphone, and a tiny bottle of lavender ointment I was secretly sniffing for my motion sickness. 

3. Joey is very familiar with this place.

So I should not get lost and come across the right path - towards the three exclusive elevators leading to Wertheimer's residence.