Someone Else's Fairytale

Twenty-Eight: New York

“What's Nate do for a living?” I asked.

“Right now he's a mall security guard.”

“Okay.”

“But he's going to be a doctor.”

“He in med school?”

“No, he's still working on college.”

“Where.”

Her gaze darted from my face to the seat in front of her to the airline magazine tucked into its pouch. “This online program.”

“Stop right there. You're not talking sense. That's fairytale logic, not real world logic. He's not going to be a doctor.”

“Just because I'm young-”

“Youth has nothing to do with it. You've got to have a grip on reality. Doesn't matter how old you are. My mom, when she was Jason's age, still thought Dr. Winters was going to leave his wife for her, and it was just as delusional then as it was when she was your age.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can date a movie star.”

“Which is good for them. Not that I don't love Jason, I do, but his career and money and all that...” I shook my head. She had me thinking about that dang apartment again.

“You don't like it?”

“It's just... I don't hold it against him. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't.”

Kyra looked me up and down. “You ready for a whole summer with him?”

“Yes.”

“Because here's reality for you. What do you plan to do when you go to New Orleans?”

“I don't know.” I shrugged. “We have to be long distance a lot of the time-”

“He hates that and you know it. You're going to have to get used to his lifestyle eventually, because he's going to want to share it with you. You can't live in your stupid little rental house off Central forever.”

Why not? I wanted to say, but she was right. She'd turned this conversation on me fair and square.

“What are you hiding from, anyway?” she asked.

“I like being a normal person,” I said. “That's all.”

***

Dave met us at the airport, his spiky hair wilting slightly in the heat. I had no idea New York was so hot, or humid, but once we stepped out of the air conditioned interior of La Guardia, we hit a wall of superheated air. I put on my sunglasses, which almost slid off my nose, I was sweating so much. It was disgusting.

“So how was the flight?” he asked.

“It was good,” said Kyra, brightly.

I nodded.

Dave didn't see, because he was tapping away at his phone. “Car will be here in a sec.” He put the phone away and rested his hands on the pushbar of our luggage cart.

My awkward, nauseated feeling edged up a notch when a shiny black limo pulled up to the curb, long and sleek and silent as a cat.

“Oh cool,” said Kyra.

“Yeah, stylin', right?” said Dave. He and the driver loaded some of our bags into the trunk and the rest inside. I climbed in and settled myself as best I could on one of the plush seats while Kyra bounded in next to me. “A fridge?” she said, pulling open the square appliance set into the wall. “And a computer terminal? And a television?”