“Every flower must grow through dirt.” - Anonymous
I stared blankly at the brown wall before me, eyes tracing over the curve of the metal coffee steam artwork that was nailed to the wall. My brain had no thoughts to worry about as I waited for Sophie to have a spare moment to chat with me. She was currently buzzing around from round table to round table, a few customers were giving her some flack and being impatient. They were aggravating me, Sophie was an excellent waitress, it wasn't her fault the other employee was late for their shift.
I was growing more impatient myself, more with my lack of creativity than Sophie.
As my eyes continued to stare blankly at the wall, my fingers grazed my keyboard, the small indentation of the keys tickling my fingertips as I waited for an epiphany. I checked my email a million times for any news from Madge, and by news I mean an explanation. If anyone was going to give me confidence in my new editor, it was going to be her. I thought that for sure, she would meet Mr. Hayes before she left that building for good. I hoped she would tell me not to worry, but I was really just wishing on a shooting star I'd made up.
My entire future suddenly seemed bleak. Without the help of someone, I'd never be able to write my sixth novel. I would just be a burnout, the equivalent of a teenie-bopper pop star. And that idea scared the shiitake mushrooms out of me.
“I'm sorry, I think it's cooled down, now.” Sophie's chime broke me from my worries. She sat across from me in my familiar table. At a glance around the shop, I saw that only regulars with newspapers or computers of their own were left. When I brought my gaze back to Sophie, I brightened up a little bit seeing her glowing smile and dimpled cheeks. Her short black hair was messy from her exertion, but was the right kind of messy. Her green eyes like apples were bright and alive, they transferred some life into me like a Duracell. I tried to return her smile, ending up with an awkward half-smirk.
“What did you want to talk about? You seem like you need to talk about something.” Sophie said again, her voice like a fairy sprinkling sugar dust everywhere. Just another thing I liked about her was her intuitiveness, she had a thing with people.
“Madge is retiring, my editor,” I clarified, not quite sure if she remembered who Madge was. “I'm just worried the replacement won't be as good. Madge was everything I could ask for and more.”
She nodded empathetically as she listened as I drawled on about all that Madge meant to me. Sophie was such a good listener, she was like my free therapist. Or, at the very least, a vent for my emotions. I know our relationship seemed to be one-sided most of the time, but Sophie never wanted to talk about herself. I would ask her questions and she would answer them, never going further into her life other than scratching the surface. Something in me pulled when I realized that I had time for Sophie, I wasn't rushing to get another chapter written that night or do research on ocean currents. I actually had time for a social life, and I wanted her to be more than just my vent, I wanted her to be my friend.
I stopped going on about my life, paused, and watched as Sophie gave me a curious look before I asked “You never did tell me what you went to music school for.” Such a detail seemed to simple, I ought to have known it. And was ashamed when I realized I didn't.
“Piano.” she replied simply. I smiled to myself. We were both in love with keys, we just produced different art.
“I've always liked piano music, I could never play, myself. I can't even remember where the middle C is.” I admitted. Our topic of discussion sparked a new life into Sophie, she brightened at the chance of telling me about something she loved. No doubt she still did, I could see it her eyes.
“I could teach you, sometime. If you want me to.” she offered, I shook my head lightly. I thought Sophie should be able to keep that one special thing to herself, but I did want to hear her play.
“No, thank you though. I'm a hopeless case. But, I would love to hear you play.”
If there was one thing I learned about writing, it was that if you truly have a passion for something, it cannot be contained. You have to show someone, tell a friend or maybe your family about it. Maybe you make videos of yourself singing your favorite songs, paint murals on abandoned buildings, or like myself, maybe you show your best friend the story you're writing. A strong infatuation with something must be shown, or a person would explode.
“Well, sometimes I play songs at the bar down the street.” she told me timidly. “I don't have a piano in my apartment, just an old keyboard, it's not worth listening to.”
“You should tell me when you're going to play, I'd love to come.” And I did want to, I was sure Sophie could play beautifully. She had dropped out of Julliard after her freshman year. I faintly remember her mentioning something about lack of money and scholarships. So she worked at Le Petit Cafe, bussing tables and working to become a barista. I had great pity for Sophie, it's sad to see a person's dream die, no matter how small or large.
“That would be great.” she smiled widely at me and I returned it. I needed a friend in New York, I decided. She would never replace Bria, and I wouldn't want her to.
We both turned when we heard the faint sound of the door open, the bells that hung over it jingling erratically. I saw a boy walk in wearing the uniform of the cafe, tying his green apron around his waist. I knew it was the person that was supposed to be working with Sophie. He seemed out of breath and in a rush, probably because he was late. I recognized his face when he strode over to where Sophie and I sat, Harry Potter boy, I named him in my head, since he wasn't wearing a name tag.
“Sorry I'm late Soph! It won't happen again.” he promised, not even glancing at me as he apologized to Sophie.
I would have been more angry with him, but her go-with-the-flow demeanor forgave him easily. “It's no big deal, I covered it.”
“Thanks.”
Sophie turned quickly to me, smile growing as she yelled back to a retreating Harry Potter boy. “You wanna make it up to me?” Without even waiting for a reply she quickly ordered, “Make Addy a Passion Peach.”
I stared agape at her, I hadn't mentioned anything about my smoothie run. She smiled knowingly at me and spoke in an abashed tone, “I figured that was what you came here for.”
I nodded quickly, still astounded. “You're some kind of wizard, or something.”
“No, I just know you tend to cheer yourself up with blended fruit.” We shared a quick laugh as Harry Potter boy brought out my smoothie, I gave him the exact change and he left to go back behind the counter.
“Now, I want to help you with you're writer's block.” she started, patting my hand as I sipped my smoothie vigorously. “I think I know just what you need.” she smiled, a bit of devil's glint in her eyes.
I started to ramble off guesses, “Talent, motivation, creativity, plot, theme, characters-”
“No, no, no, no!” she stopped me, grabbing my full attention. “You need inspiration. And I have just the place to find some.”
She grabbed my free hand and started to pull me away from my table and out the door. I reached back quickly and looped the strap of my bag around my arm as she began to pull me tighter and with newfound vigor towards the door.
“What are you doing? You're working!” I protested, but Sophie just shrugged.
“It's past rush, we'll be closed in two hours anyway.”
As we began to pass the counter, she looked to Harry Potter boy and explained, “Cover for me, I'm taking the rest of the day off. I promise I'll repay you.”
He sure did not seem to mind her leaving, batting his hand as if it was of no importance and mumbling, “No big, I owe you, still.”
“Thanks!” She exclaimed with giddy before pulling me like a dog on a leash out the door and onto the street.
I looked down at Sophie, she still had on her uniform and apron, she looked tired from the days work and yet she was taking me on an adventure. “You're crazy, we'll do this some other day when you don't have work.” I started, but she shushed me again.
“No, I'm doing this for you. You obviously need it! Now, come on, let's catch a cab.”
“No sub?” I asked, they were cheaper.
“No, it's not that far.” She said, hailing the nearest yellow cab, I watched as it pulled up to us, immensely confused.
“What's not that far?” I asked her as she opened the door, turning back and smirking to me before getting inside.
“Oh, you'll see.”
“This is one of the strangest things I've ever done!” I exclaimed as our quickly rising elevator continued it's way to the top of the building. My ears began to feel the pressure and soon they were popping.
“I still can't believe you've lived in New York for three years and never been to the Empire State Building!” she exclaimed as I felt the elevator shift and come to a stop. There was a small crowd of people surrounding us. We did not have to wait in line very long due to the fact that it wasn't tourist season and it was almost evening. The whole trip was spontaneous, crazy even. I was wearing sweatpants and a tee, Sophie in an apron, khaki pants, and a gray polo. We were nothing short of ridiculous. I realized I hadn't done something that fun in what seemed like years. But, I was still cautious as the doors opened. I just couldn't believe I'd actually done it, just went on a impulsive adventure to the Empire State Building.
“I've never had the motivation or the time.” I explained as we exited the cramped space with the other occupants. So much was true, despite what Sophie has promised, our destination had been far away.
“Please tell me you've at least been to the Statue of Liberty.”
Shamefully, I began to shake my head and she gave me a look of pure shock. “We are going there, soon.” she assured me. “You need to enjoy New York, the city has a lot to offer.”
I wasn't so sure about that statement, never finding it's dirty streets spellbinding and surely not inspiring. What makes a different angle so much more appealing? Either way, you're still looking at the same thing, right?
I could not have been more wrong. As I cautiously crept over to the viewing area, I saw the skyline and my breath was taken away.
The still buildings sat against the rapidly setting sun and in the distance I could see the glint off the bay, it's murky waters shone like the Queen's diamonds. My mouth hung agape as I slowly stepped closer to the windows, in some sort of awestruck trance. Sophie gazed at me curiously, not expecting the expression I wore.
“Are you afraid of heights?” she asked nervously, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head slowly and murmured, “Only of falling off of them.” she smiled widely, then. Sophie was incredibly proud of my reaction, leaning against the guard rails and studying my face as I took it all in.
As I looked off the edge, the people below me looked small enough to squish to a pulp with my pinky toe. It was a powerful feeling, invigorating, to feel like I was on top of the world. Especially a world where I was just a bug on someone's windshield, the annoying one that was just out of reach of the windshield wiper. If passersby knew who I was, suddenly I was important, worth their time. But if they didn't, I couldn't help but feel like an annoyance, like I couldn't possibly belong in their world. I was that little pest on their windshield, and always had been my whole life, overlooked. But up on top of the building looking down, I felt a strange sense of renewed confidence in who I was. Like nothing was impossible and that I deserved it all. On top of the world.
An increasingly big grin grew on my face as my eyes scanned over building tops, attempting to find our neighborhood. Sophie pointed it out to me, and I knew she'd been up there multiple times.
“How many times have you been up here?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from the view.
“Oh, I'm not sure.” she answered modestly before adding with a giggle, “A lot.”
“I can tell.” I chided, looking back out into the distance.
“I just love it up here. I wrote my final piece freshman year, it was the only place where I could hear the music.” Sophie smiled to herself at the happy memory. I sure hoped the elevation would help me, too. I stared back out, letting my mind drift to my dreams where my stories live.
I stood there for how long with only the thought that this outing would make a great day for my couple, it was cute, romantic, and insightful. It was something, I realized. I could make that outing into at least a chapter, then I just needed a couple to go with the setting. And not even that view could make me see them, just two big question marks. Were they an unlikely pair? Or meant to be? Best friends or enemies? I didn't know, yet.
I sighed loudly and Sophie saw the disappointment written on my face. “It didn't help, did it?” She whimpered sadly.
“Well, a little. I decided I need to include this building in my book. So, I guess I might be writing about New York. But what happiness up here, with whom, I don't know.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Sophie said cautiously, “But why is this so hard? I mean, you can't think of anything?”
“No,” I started, pausing to watch the people below, “I can, it's just everything I come up with, is just a cheap replica of what I've already done. Nothing is different, and nothing is new. That's my problem. I feel like I've already tried everything and now I have no more options. Nothing is creative enough.” I sighed again, it felt good to just admit it. Because the truth was, I'd thought of thousands of stories already, even started writing before I realized it had been done before, sometimes by me. I felt like I'd touched every genre and characteristic. That was what was bugging me the most.
“Oh,” she mused, looking out at the scene before us. “That's hard. I'm sorry, but I don't know what to tell you. That's not exactly my field of expertise.” She tried to give me a comforting smile.
I started to turn away from the window after deciding I'd savored the view long enough. I was tired and I told Sophie that. “I think it's time to go home. Thanks so much for doing this, it did kind of help.”
“Anytime.” She chimed as we entered back into the elevator and began to slowly descend back down to ground level perspective and away from the illusion of the Empire State Building gave the world, back to my painful reality.
When I got back to my apartment it was nearing nighttime and while the city never slept, I needed to.
I pulled back my blinds and let out a large yawn as I checked my email again. I didn't have anything from Madge, but I did have a message from my father.
After I had missed so many of his calls, he finally resorted to learning how to use technology to get a hold of me. Someone with a wealth of patience had taught him how to email all by himself and even the basics of video chat. We often sent messages just to catch up on our lives. His was relatively short, mostly confirming that nothing new was happening. He had many questions for me. I spent a few minutes typing a quick message and summing up all my current conflicts. All about Madge and my worries about the new editor and my epic case of writer's block. I told him I'd message him back after I'd met Mr. Hayes and tell him all about it.
After doing so, I left the computer to go to sleep as I entered my own. The day after the next, I'd go to the publisher's office and meet Mr. Hayes. That moment would either crush or replenish me and I waited in apprehension for it's coming.
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Next Chapter we finally meet Elliot! Woo!
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---> Random song that I love because I can!!!!!
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<3 thatcrazybookworm