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I sink to my knees and touch the cross around my neck as I whisper-talk my morning prayer. This need for approval, for communication, to be loved unconditionally, will always be there.
I grab my notebook and dramatically cross out the entire plan B: convent. That’s right, it’s time to make mistakes, be guided by my heart, and take the road that destiny has drawn for me.
After taking a ridiculously long shower, I decide to put on another simple pair of black pants and a blouse with a floral print. I spray my perfume and put the small bottle in my handbag, I grab my own phone, texting my parents to let them know I’m all right. On a whim, I take a selfie and send that over as well. Then I grab the other phone and explore it for the first time in more detail.
In the lobby I’m waiting for the girls, when the desk clerk tries to get my attention. With a puzzled look, I approach the older woman; she’s not the woman that I saw last night.
“Ma’am? Ms. Lavigne, right? Room 303?”
“Yes, that’s me. Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I just wanted to let you know that the extension of your stay has been processed. You can stay in the same room.” The woman gives me a friendly smile.
I frown. “What do you mean, extra nights have been booked? I’m leaving today.”
The woman gives me a surprised look, before tapping with her long fingers on the keyboard. “No? We received a request this morning to extend your stay for an indefinite period.”
“Indefinite period?”
“Yes. There’s actually a message here.” She puts on a pair of reading glasses. “It says,For you to discover your plan A and for me to have my way. With you.” As if only just realizing what she read, the woman blushes lightly, just like me. I clear my throat.
A ping of the elevator, followed by cheery laughter from Monika and Emma announce their arrival and I tap my fingers on the desk, before looking back at the woman in front of me.
“Right. Well, I guess that nobody can refuse a few extra days in New York?” The other woman smiles again. “That’s right. You have yourself a wonderful day, Ms. Lavigne.”
“Thank you very much.” I turn away, just in time to catch my friends.
“Good morning, darling. Ready to ride that bike again?”
“First I need breakfast.”
“Did Prue phone already?”
“She’s going to be here in ten, says WhatsApp.”
“Well, I’m too hungry to wait for that. She can join me on my second round.”
After we make our selections from the breakfast buffet, we sit down by the window. It promises to be another sunny, brisk spring day.
“A perfect day to ride a bike.”
“My ass is still sore,” Monika complains and despite it most likely being true for all of us, we all giggled.
“It’s a nice place to bike around though, a lot nicer than London.”
I bite my lower lip. “Well, to be honest, before this weekend, I had never been on a bike before. I didn’t realize it was so much fun.” Hell, I’ll be on the bike plenty more over the next few days, I muse silently. As if it only just now clicks, I feel a bubble of excitement in my stomach. I'm going to stay longer in New York. He wants me to find my plan A?Mon Dieu, he wants to have his way with me? A warm buzz ripples through my entire body. I can’t wait to see him again. But I’ll be damned if I’ll tell him.
For the next few hours, Prue takes us past Greenwich Village to Chelsea Market in New York's Meatpacking District, where, according to Prue, you can find the best spare ribs in New York. We take our food with us, carefully riding around Times Square, straight through Hell's Kitchen; destination Central Park.
“Nearly there, ladies, come on. Before you know it, we’ll be eating those damn good ribs in the sun.” Prue rides in front and guides us through the city like a professional tour guide. I cycle directly behind her and hear Emma and Monika behind me side by side, chattering like a couple of birds. It’s become a familiar sound and feeling in such a short time.
The ride to Central Park doesn’t take too long and a little later, Prue instructs us to park our bikes in the reserved bicycle park. Further down, we see a group of school girls, and realize that they are bullying the youngest of the group. The girl is wearing thick-framed glasses and her blonde hair is tied in a messy ponytail. Her navy-colored backpack’s on the floor, its contents scattered around. The girls are taunting her, gathering quite a crowd, before they push the girl over, right onto her belongings, taking off with a howl like a bunch of wolves.
Without a single hesitation, Monika walks up to the victim on the ground and offers her a hand. “Hey honey,” she soothes her with a gentle voice. “You’re all right. Come on, let me get you up.” The girl tentatively takes Monika’s outstretched hand as she wipes her tears. Once she’s back on her feet, Monika brushes the invisible dust off the girl's jacket and pants, before crouching to put all the girl's belongings back into her backpack. She zips the bag up and hands it to the girl. “Why were they doing that to you?”
The girl shrugs, her face now dry from tears but still covered with red stains. “I guess they don’t like me. Or perhaps I’m too easy to pick on.”
“Yeah, because you don’t fight back,” Monika mutters gently. “You know, I used to be like that when I was your age. Kids used to bully me. Didn’t stop me from becoming one of the greatest upcoming lingerie designers in my home country, Germany.” The girl's eyes grow wide and she looks Monika up and down as if she should recognize her as an international celebrity. Monika grins at the gesture. “What I mean is, don’t let them get you down. This is just a phase and itwillpass. Focus on what makes you happy in life and only that. All the rest is just,” she hesitates briefly before choosing the right saying, “secondhand news, I guess.”
