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“That sounds perfect,” Rose responds, her voice warm and enthusiastic. “Where should we meet?”
My mind drifts momentarily as I ponder our dining options. “How about that little Italian place downtown? You know the one I’m talking about, right?”
Rose laughs softly. “Of course, I do. It’s a date, then.”
“Or,” I interject, having a change of mind, “how about I stop by and pick you up and from there, we’d go to Times Square. I wouldn’t mind having a final gulp of New York.” I chuckle.
“It’s all for you,” Rose says. “Any way you want it, I’d be waiting.”
I smile, feeling the warmth of my friendship with Rose. “Great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
We exchange a few more words, promising stories, and laughter as we look forward to our evening together. I hang up, my weariness momentarily forgotten. I know that Rose is the perfect balm for my sometimes-chaotic life, a friend who has stood by my side since our high school days.
As I resume my packing, my heart is lighter, and the room seems just a bit brighter. Then, I leave to the shower for a wash, and I step into a pair of jeans and a white blouse. I go to check on Alex who’s playing with his Legos. Since my mother isn’t home, I’d take Alex to see his friend from school two floors down. I’d leave him there and get him when I return.
“Change those shorts,” I tell him. “I’ll drop you over at Jason’s place. I’ve called his mommy. Jason can’t wait to see you.”
“Yay!” Alex quickens what he does and enthusiastically changes his shorts, packing his Legos into his play bag. Soon, we’re out of the house in front of Jason’s house.
Jason’s mom gets the door. I can see Jason peeking from behind, his lips tearing apart in happiness at the sight of Alex. It makes me remember last meetings like this. I once had a friend when I was much younger, probably in fourth or fifth grade, who had been so close that when her family was moving out of the state, I had begged my mother to allow me to go with them.
I walk out of the building and flag down a cab. Inside the moving car, I pull out my phone to send a text to Rose, telling her I was on my way.
As I sit in the back of the yellow cab, the city I’ve called home for so long stretches out before me in a breathtaking panorama of urban wonders.
The city’s heartbeat pulses through the streets, and I can feel its energy, a vibrant and unrelenting force that never sleeps. The streets are alive with a diverse tapestry of people, each with their own story to tell, their own dreams to chase. I watch as pedestrians rush past, lost in their thoughts, their footsteps echoing in the canyons of concrete and glass.
The iconic yellow taxis, like the one I’m in, weave through the labyrinthine streets with a kind of organized disorder, their horns occasionally blaring in a chaotic harmony.
The cab inches closer to Rose’s apartment, and I can see her standing outside in a red silk dress, clutching a little bag. The dress is in perfect blend with her spotless brown skin. Her face is dabbed in light makeup, her full lips shiny with gloss. Her dark, curly hair cascades over her shoulders, giving her a classy look.
I tell the driver to stop just in front of her and I lean over to open the door for her.
“Oh yeah, that’s my baby,” I say to her, smiling gleefully.
“Good to see you Amber,” she responds, leaning closer to me for a hug. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” she asks, giving me an eye.
“Who’re you all dressed up for, Rose?”
“Our date of course,” she says, and we both cackle loudly.
“It’s not just us in here,” Rose says, throwing her gaze on the driver quickly.
I roll my eyes and keep talking loudly. We both laugh. We get beautifully foolish anytime we’re around each other. And I always look forward to spending time with Rose. Soon, all of that would be thin air. So, we’d better enjoy the best of our time together.
The cab stops. Rose and I step out of the cab, our senses instantly overwhelmed by the vibrant chaos of Times Square. The taxi melts into the sea of yellow cabs, leaving us standing at the heart of New York City’s iconic landmark.
The towering digital billboards illuminate the night, casting a matrix of colors across our faces. I gaze up, my eyes tracing the myriad of advertisements, each one competing for attention. The neon lights and larger-than-life screens create an electric atmosphere that pulses through the very heart of the city.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I take in the sights and sounds. This is my last hurrah in the city that never sleeps before my journey to Japan. A sense of bittersweetness tugs at my heart, knowing that I’ll miss this place and the moments I’ve shared here.
“Times Square never gets old, does it?” Rose’s voice breaks through my reverie, her eyes mirroring the wonder and excitement of the place.
I smile, feeling grateful that I get to share this moment with my best friend. “No, it doesn’t. It’s like a world of its own.”
We begin to weave our way through the bustling crowd, pausing occasionally to take pictures of the dazzling displays. I spot the iconic ball that descends every New Year’s Eve, and it’s a stark reminder of the passage of time.
We walk on, hand in hand. Our conversation flows like a river during the rain. Rose, ever the caring friend, brings up topics that I’ve been skirting around for a while.
