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Her intuition has always led her straight to the truth, and now is no exception. My grandma’s advice is spot-on, and looking down at her wrinkled hands, I clasp the twenty-dollar bill in my fist, needing the extra money to get home without jumping the turnstile as I’d planned.
“I know you’re doing your best, Trina.” Nana looks into my eyes and I feel as if she’s seeing through me. She knows! She knows that I’m headed off to the city in response to a sketchy ad on the Internet. And even if she doesn’t know, my guilt is close to bubbling over anyways, so I scramble to end the conversation, gripping her shoulders awkwardly before bursting out of the doors and down the dirty elevator.
The train is crowded with people rushing to work, but luckily, I can take my time. It wouldn’t have made sense for me to go to an internship fair midday, so I’ve left in the morning to look as professional and believable as possible.
Bouncing between a kid’s stroller and an overweight man in torn jeans, I grit my teeth and glance up at the map again as I silently count the stops until I get off. I am definitely looking forward to a little personal space and a lot of fresh air once this ride is done. And when the doors to the subway car finally open at my destination, I rush out, hurrying up the station stairs to the outside before taking a deep breath.
It’s a bright and sunny morning in New York City, and everyone is shuffling around me as yellow taxicabs flash by on the streets. Rarely do I get to venture around the city since we live so far up in the Bronx, but I’m excited to pretend to belong in the best city in the world.
Deep down, I think everyone dreams of living in Manhattan, looking down on the busy streets from a penthouse apartment as the city races beneath you. What could be better, after all? It’s the culmination of my dreams, and somewhere in the depths of my heart, I vow that one day, I’ll be that girl. Of course how I’m going to get there is still up in the air, but I’m determined to make it happen somehow.
A sign on a narrow side street barely wider than an alley advertises a special for coffee and a donut for two dollars. Knowing I’ll find no better, or cheaper, way to spend my time, I tuck into the small café, glancing around the dimly lit room. There are only four other people in here, but it’s all the small café looks to be able to comfortably manage.
“Is there any way I can get a blueberry muffin instead of a donut?” I ask the older man behind the cashier. His apron is messy, probably from baking all morning.
“Usually we won’t allow it but Martin, what do you think?” he calls past me, and I look over my shoulder to see a frail African-American man nodding with an innocent smirk. He is at least seventy years old, but in that moment, he looks to be no more than an adolescent.
“Martin says yeah.” The cashier shrugs, reaching to retrieve the muffin before picking up a mug.
“And what about hot chocolate instead of coffee?” I ask, trying my luck once more.
“That pretty face isn’t going to bankrupt me,” he says with a frown before pouring the steaming coffee into my mug.
I can’t help but laugh. You’ve gotta love New Yorkers and their fierce attitudes. I smile as I hand him two dollars before heading to the only available seat in the café, cramped against the window, which works perfectly for me. People watching is just what I need to clear my mind.
A woman walks past as soon as I settle into the seat. She glances around the space, and I watch as her nose turns up almost imperceptibly. I’m sure I’m the only person that noticed it, but she’s definitely turned off by this café. The look in her eyes said this place was beneath her, and looking around, I can see why.
The floors and glass window are filthy, and I begin to wonder to myself if these types of establishments are all I’ll ever experience in my life. This is my comfort zone—cheap and low rent. But in comparison to the woman, when I saw it, my eyes lit up with eagerness while that gorgeous woman was disgusted.
But the thing is, I’ve never known better than this. This is just life for me. Maybe when my parents send for me and Mickey in a fancy limo, we’ll finally get a taste of what it is to live the high life.
I actually laugh aloud at that thought, knowing how ridiculous it is to believe that my parents are so much as thinking of me. Embarrassed by my outburst, I nervously look from one side to the other, but no one seems to notice.
