There's No Place Like New York City

Chapter 1 - Saying Good-Bye

            Blake

"So, um, how do you like New York City?" I asked. It was the typical question I asked all tourists. I was hoping to hear from the lady; the man was sleeping soundly.

An angelic murmur reached my ears, "Okay, I guess." 

I raised an eyebrow, "What's there not to like?"

"Only the smog, the litter, the lack of vegetation-"

"-Oh, I get it. You're a tree-hugger, aren't you?"

"I live in Oregon," was her vague reply. I drove in silence for the next ten minutes.

She inquired softly, yet curiously, "What about you? Do you live here with your family?"

I coughed, "Donhafafamry."

"Sorry, could you say that again?"

"Donhafafamry!"

"I'm not fluent in gibberish."

I whispered, "I don't have a family."

There was not another word for the next hour. It was completely soundless except for the occasional grunt from the sleeping man. Five more minutes and we'll be there.... A lane of bright red lights filled my vision. I swore silently. A discouraging half-a-mile of traffic lay ahead. I honked the horn in a desperate effort to get the line moving along. I don't have time for this!

I twisted around and announced, "Sorry, this is the closest I can get to the airport; it would be faster on foot."

The lady looked away from the window and straight into my eyes. Her appearance was breathtaking. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down to her shoulder blades and stunning yet unreadable green eyes. I couldn't see much else because her dark brown curls created a curtain; concealing most of her face. She rummaged through her companion's wallet before gingerly handing me one-hundred-fifty dollars. She mumbled a reply of thanks. I smiled at her; she held my gaze for two seconds before shyly looking away. We all got out of the cab.

I heaved their luggage out of the taxi's spacious trunk. Jeez, what is in here? You can only take so much on a vacation! I left them on the gum-coated sidewalk, but before I could drive away, I felt the impulse to wave good-bye. I would probably never see her again.

            Holly

I surveyed the skies for stars. There wasn't a single star in the murky darkness. The lonely moon shone brightly. On a summer night like this, Portland's skies would be overflowing with twinkling stars. But this was the famous, one and only New York City. Not Portland. A single tear rolled down my numb, pink cheek at the thought of our homey cabin in Oregon. Majestic, pine camouflaged mountains, calm artful ripples of Columbia River water, and beautifully-colored sunsets. None of this could be found in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, or Staten Island. A blast of biting, bitter wind ripped me away from my thoughts. I shivered slightly and wrapped my fraying wool coat around myself tighter, almost cutting off circulation. I looked down and checked my watch; it was six o' clock. It would be an hour until our flight would arrive. We couldn't go back to Natalie and Wesley's luxurious condominium and I most definitely didn't want to wait at the airport. All the diminutive shops on the empty, run-down street were closed; their lights shut off despairingly. The disconsolate street lamps flickered dimly providing practically no source of light at all. The only light came from the luminescent moon, the airport, and one open café called the "Pâtisserie Café".

The Pâtisserie Café was a small café; it took up the corner of one block. There was one vast window that took up two walls; allowing you to see all that happened inside the little luncheonette. The title was painted distinctly in faded Paris green lettering against the mahogany wood that framed the window. My father tapped my shoulder.