With the help of my friends, my apartment was in a habitable state by the end of the night. As merciless as they were with their jokes, many of which centred on a certain neighbour; having four sets of helping hands meant I was able to get a good amount of sleep that first night.
When I wake up, I take a moment to admire the morning sunshine as it floods my bedroom through the voile blinds. It's quiet, save for the comforting sound of a muffled uplifting piano tune somewhere in the distance, which I treat as fortuitous background music. I grab my phone off the nightstand and snap a picture of the room, wanting to capture the way the diffused sunlight bathes the room in its soft glow. With a skip in my step, I hop out of bed and grab my glasses, planning to spend the day exploring the neighbourhood. Thanks to my transfer, I was given a week off from work to relocate and settle before my official start here, and I intend to make the most of it.
~
I am definitely lost. After a long walk, I find myself panicking on a pretty unfamiliar-looking street and stop at the side of the road to gather my bearings on Google Maps, but across the street I spot a lookout that overlooks the Hudson river. I should really find my way home before it gets dark, but what's the harm? I stay to admire the view of the sun setting over the George Washington Bridge. Ever the hobby photographer, I brought my camera along on the walk, a backhanded consolation gift; I switch it on and snap a few shots. Honestly, it's impossible to take a bad picture of such an amazing view. I have this, now... Suddenly this random corner of town doesn't seem unappealing in the slightest. Maybe there's a reason I ended up here. Maybe...
In a stream of maybes, I follow the directions on my phone as I walk back, continuing to click photos along the way. There's something about the city with all its busy streets and towering buildings that makes me want to keep going, and that I do; though my photography is merely out of enjoyment, I know I want to capture everything for my future self to remember fondly. Maybe I'll start scrapbooking, just for the heck of it. Looking at the world through my DSLR screen, I finally find my way back to my block and stop outside my building for a few more photos before I head in for the night.
As I alter the settings on my camera, capturing the street from various angles, a figure with a dog brutally photobombs my frame by walking straight across it as the shutter clicks.
Scowling, I lower my camera to glare at the offender on the opposite sidewalk. The world is small, the block is even smaller and you already know where this is going.
Lin.
Of all people, it just had to be him strolling through my shot.
He stops, looking straight at me, seeming strangely alarmed as he sprints across the road and stops in front of me as the dog sniffs me. Lin lowers his headphones to rest them around his neck, leaving his hair rather adorably disheveled. I refrain from reacting. It's cool, it's cool...
"Hey, what are you..." His gaze drops to my camera, borderline suspicious. Excuse me?
"Well, it's nice to see you too," I remark, "So... what?"
"Nothing, I just thought you were... Never mind."
Then it dawns on me. Of course he's unnerved by a potentially crazy new neighbour who happens to be standing outside his apartment building with a camera around her neck. He doesn't know me any better than I know him, so of freaking course he seems to think something is off about this. "O-kay. I'm not some kind of stalker, if that's what you're thinking. And if you must know, this," I hold up my camera for emphasis, "is a personal hobby, and nothing more."
Lin sighs, his relief evident from the change in the way he looks back at me. "I'm really sorry. I kinda just panicked for a second and assumed the worst. See, my address isn't public knowledge, you know why."
"If it's any consolation, I didn't know. My friends only told me about you after they saw you yesterday, so... That's why you caught us watching Hamilton," I explain.
"I don't know whether to be relieved or offended," he says, with the lightest hint of a laugh.
"Be both," I say flippantly, "And chill, I won't go exposing your address on the internet - I live here too, y'know!"
"Thank you."
"Just, like, don't photobomb my frame or I'll be forced to reconsider," I tease, earning a heartier laugh from him.
"Gotcha!" Lin affirms, before placing his headphones back on and walking off into the distance. Smiling to myself, I cross the street and make my way back up to my apartment to review the photos I've taken, and the weirdness that just occurred.
~
My first two weeks in New York City are a total whirlwind between starting my new work assignment, finding a flexible balance between a shiny high-rise office downtown and working from home, rediscovering the city with my group of friends, all whilst actually trying to settle in to my new home, and I hardly have a second to gather my thoughts. Change is always scary, but this time I'm determined to stay here and I'm willing to do what I need to.
Life could only be placed on pause for so long, and the world is calling - but not today! It's a Sunday morning and for once I have no plans for the day. So instead I lay in bed, trying to muster up the will to get up when I hear the sound of a low, slow tune on the piano again, muffled slightly by the walls.
My apartment obviously shared a wall with Lin's. I had only briefly seen him in the hallway a couple of times after our slightly strange exchange outside, but I quickly discovered that my bedroom borders with what I imagine to be his office or music room or something to that tune (pun entirely intended). Ours were the only two apartments on this floor and I wasn't exactly privy to the building's blueprints to figure out how that worked, but thanks to this wall, I would often hear his distinctive voice, or his piano, or some sweet symphony of the two; I'd wake up to his music in the morning and be lulled to sleep by it at night. Creepy as that may sound, it's become a harmless routine of sorts... It's comforting, and I don't feel quite so alone as the silence of my apartment would otherwise make me. Hearing it, it isn't difficult to see why his work is so popular.
This particular morning, it sounds like he's working on a new song, because he goes through a few different iterations of a similar but unfamiliar melody, changing notes here and there.
I finally roll out of bed and lean against the wall, trying to hear better, hear more.
After a couple more minutes of him figuring out piano notes - not that I have any understanding of how they work, but they do progressively sound better - the unmistakable sound of his voice joins in. He's singing in Spanish and I can't make out the words (I now curse myself for paying barely enough attention to pass that class in high school) but goddamn it, there's still something unbelievably sexy about it. Whether it's the music itself, the vulnerability in his voice, the way I can picture him in my mind, I couldn't know, but I might be crushing... With my back still against the wall, I slide down to sit on the fluffy carpet, sinking down, closing my eyes and leaning my head back, letting the music sweep me up. Though I can only brokenly guess the meaning of the lyrics, the emotion in his voice does all the talking and I find I don't really need to understand it to feel it.
Lin carries on through the rest of the song, stopping and switching and changing words and notes along the way, but I can't bring myself to leave. I'm enamoured.
What the heck am I supposed to do with that?
In some sort of attempt at a bold move, I tap my knuckles against the wall, trying to echo some sort of a beat that vaguely resembles what he was playing, knowing I'm not musically inclined by any means imaginable but knocking my approval anyway. Sure, this wall is not a sheet of cardboard, but if I can hear him, maybe he could hear me too?
I hear a knock back, in perfect rhythm. I respond, carrying it on, and he quickly joins in on his piano, playing through the song and singing louder this time.
In the days that follow, I make sure to knock my approval every time after that, whether he's playing something familiar or singing a new tune entirely. It's pretty clear he enjoys having an audience; when he knows I'm listening, it's more of a show...
~
As time flies by, I find myself settling into a routine. As much as possible, I would try to keep my weekends free, using them as an opportunity to tidy up and regroup, to gather my thoughts before the next week wears on. But another exhausting week later on this particular Saturday, I've invited my friends over for dinner. Trying to figure out what to cook, I wander into the kitchen and realize I need to pick up some groceries. Still stuck in bad habits from living with my family for so long, I barely keep track of what I have - and entertaining is definitely not something I've done in a while.
But luckily the seasons have not yet turned, it's still moderately warm and it's early enough in the afternoon, so I figure I'll kill two birds with one stone with a run to the grocery store. I change out of my comfy pyjamas into a sports bra and running shorts, and I'm out the door without a second thought.
Whilst I'm locking the door to my apartment and trying to un-jam my key, I hear a voice behind me. "Hey, where have you been?" Lin asks, with that now-familiar playful lilt. I turn to face him and it looks like he's also just stepping out, dressed in a well-fitted t-shirt and long shorts. He's very obviously checking me out and making no effort to hide the fact - but I can't complain, because I'm doing exactly the same to him. Harmless, right?
"Hey you! Just work, work, work," I respond nonchalantly, rolling my eyes, "What about you?"
"Honestly, same. I hope my weirdly timed jam sessions don't bother you," he says earnestly. "I'm sorry if they do. I'm chasing a deadline and I kinda can't stop."
"Not at all! I actually like hearing your music, it's comforting. What are you working on?" I ask curiously. I need to hear that beautiful song again.
"It's this new Disney movie, I'm not allowed to say much but I guess you've heard more than you should anyway," Lin laughs, "So, where are you headed?"
"I'm just running to the store, I need food!"
"Cool, so do I. Shall we walk?"
"Why not?" I smile, and we head out together. Screw running, my heart is already racing a mile a minute.
~
Summer may be nearing its end but it's still warm outside, with a light, relieving breeze every so often. We walk on, keeping the conversation going; Lin seems to have an endearing amount of life-long love for this corner of the city I'd never even heard of, and I indulge his keen curiosity with the story of how I ended up here. That fades us into a companionable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the neighbourhood and the music that fills every other street. He occasionally hums along to some of the songs, and I'm encouraged to join in on the few I recognize, making him smile.
It distracts me. His smile is sweet, it makes his eyes sparkle even brighter and I admire him as we walk... He's certainly easy on the eyes. He hasn't styled his hair today and the light summer breeze ruffles it, blowing it over his forehead. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to push it back, but it's too soft and bounces right back. If I could just...
"Not into reggaeton, huh?" Lin teases, bringing me back to reality with a light shoulder nudge as we pass a group of teens blasting their music through a speaker.
"Nah," I respond, still trying my level best to play it cool, "I'm more of a pop, ballad kinda girl... Sorry to offend."
He chuckles at that. "You could never. Actually," he hesitates, "That knocking on the wall... Was that you?"
I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up, but that was clearly wishful thinking. I look up at him sheepishly, biting my lip, and he looks away. "Yeah. Sorry if I distracted you or anything. I just... that was a really beautiful song, Lin."
"No way! If you have any notes, you're more than welcome to critique it. I haven't played it for anyone except my dog yet, so..." he trails off.
"I'm not really an expert on music, so giving you notes, I don't know..."
"All the better, I'd appreciate a fresh outlook."
"Hmm. I don't remember much Spanish so I can't say about the lyrics, but that last part you played last night... If that was the end, it sounded kind of... abrupt?" I say uncertainly, unsure of the appropriate musical terminology. If my friends' fangirling was anything to go by, I may have just committed blasphemy; there was a damn good reason they didn't know about the wall.
It seems to make sense to him, though, because he nods and responds, "That's good, actually. I was at my wit's end by the time I got there, but I'll revisit it later. Let me know your thoughts then..."
"Of course."
"Actually, instead of knocking, text me?" He hands me his phone, open on a 'New Contact' screen. I tap my number in and save it before handing it back; he quickly sends a message and my phone pings in my pocket. "I'll turn up the sound for you; I owe you one."
I have to smile at that, but before we can continue that conversation any further, he stops by a cart on the street, the vendor putting together what looks to me like some sort of shave ice-like thing. "Since I owe you; care for a piragua?" Lin asks, gesturing to the cart.
"I honestly have no idea what that is," I shrug awkwardly, and he tuts with disapproval.
"That can't be. If you're living here, you've gotta integrate with the Heights, and this is where we start." I laugh as he speaks to the vendor, conversing in fluent Spanish that flies miles beyond me. Before long, he hands me a cup of the icy delicacy, keeping one for himself.
"Thanks!" I smile, "Do I get a spoon?"
"Heck, no!"
What follows is him demonstrating how exactly one is meant to consume this thing. I end up appreciating it way more than I'd expected, considering the heat that is slowly starting to kill me; earning some childlike excitement from him when I approve of the recommendation.
"You're gonna have to teach me exactly how to order this, I kind of love it!"
"Yeah, of course!"
Too soon, we arrive at the nearest store and step in, the air conditioning hitting us with a wave of cool air. We part ways to grab what we need and bump into each other again in the checkout line. His basket is full of fruit, snack foods and multiple varieties of cereal, whilst mine is crammed with the ingredients to make a fancy pasta dish I'd picked up a recipe for online, and a few bottles of wine. I would be anything but a bad hostess.
"After you," Lin nods, stepping back.
"Such a gentleman," I joke, and he smiles back at me as I start placing my groceries on the belt. "Don't judge, I'm inviting a few friends over for dinner tonight, so..." I explain, gesturing to the slightly alarming quantity of pasta and wine I'm buying, "Would you like to join us?" I can't say my motives are entirely innocent, but it would be nice to get to know him better. Even if my friends are collectively insane.
"Thank you, but I can't... My parents are coming over, they've been demanding to see the kids for weeks and I can't deprive them any longer," he shakes his head, "I swear, every phone call they're just like, no, pero mis nietos!"
"Wait, back up - kids?" I challenge. What the heck, he has kids? "I thought you lived alone."
"Shit, you haven't met them yet? I actually live with my wife and our two boys, and my whole world pretty much revolves around them," Lin says, a tender look coming over his face when talking about them, "Oh, and my dog," he adds with a smile.
I blink, processing this new information. I'dd never seen anyone except him on our floor, but then I suppose our busy schedules were too different to have crossed paths with his family.
As he speaks, I happen to be holding a jar of pasta sauce, which involuntarily slips from my fingers and smashes onto the tiled floor, splattering tomato absolutely everywhere. The cashier goes into panic mode and it seems like our conversation is entirely forgotten in the chaos that ensues. I apologise profusely and try to help clean up the mess I've made, but my mind stays stuck on the disappointment that Lin's unavailable, because honestly? I might be developing a little bit of a crush. Which now needs to crash, immediately - more so than the stupid jar of pasta sauce.