“That sounds like a slogan for something.” I quip, and wish it could be that easy.
“It’s every New Yorker’s motto. It’s the city of second chances and personal reinvention.”
“What’s life like there?” she asks.
“Loud, cluttered, expensive and dirty.” I grimace.
“You don’tlikeit? How can you say that?” She sounds offended on the city’s behalf.
“It’s fine. It’s home...but not,” I say and try to think about New York from an outsider's perspective. It is very alive. It’s where the whole world comes together.
“So, where do you want to live?”
I reach into my back pocket and hand her my post card of Corsica. It’s worn and creased, but the color of the sea in the image isn’t diminished one bit.
“Wow. This is beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s off the coast of France and peaceful. We went there when I was sixteen. I didn’t want to leave. I’ve never felt like that about anywhere else.”Until now, I add silently.
“Man, I want that feeling,” she says.
I take the card back. “Don’t get me wrong. I love New York City. It’s got real character: loud, unapologetic, unflinching, unbothered. It does what it wants, and we all just hang on for dear life. I only live there because it’s where I was raised. I’ve gotten to travel a lot because of the piano. But, I never really get to see the cities. When we went to Corsica, it was just a vacation. Best summer of my life.” I smile at the nostalgia the memories bring up.
“So, your parents would just let you up and move?” she asks. I laugh at that.
“They don’tletme do anything. I’m an adult. They don’t always agree and we’ll argue about it, but I know they’d support me no matter what.”
She chuckles but there’s no humor in it.
“When I was eighteen, I got a job at a place in town. It paid more than my dad did, so I quit my job at his company. Big mistake.” She shudders and grimaces.
“Was your dad pissed?”
She lets out a humorless laugh and shakes her head.
“My father made sure no one in town ate there for the three days it took them to fire me. Now, no one else would dream of hiring me away from him. And so if I want to have an income at all, I do whatever job he gives me. But I’m saving for art school. My brother just promised to help, too. Maybe once I’ve made something of myself, I can come back here and it’ll be better.”
What she’s saying sounds like my personal definition of hell.
My parents and I fight. And my siblings and I do, too. But, I wouldn’t trade my family for anything. I know duty and obligation can make saying no to your parents very hard. Even more so, when you know that they rewrote the stars to give you a life that, by all rights, shouldn’t be yours.
They’ve made their preferences clear, but my parents have never made me feel like Iowethem anything more than the love and respect that they give me.
They’ve certainly never held money over my head the way she’s implying her father does.
“That was my first party ever,“ she announces.
“Huh? Tonight?” I can’t hide my surprise.
She nods.
“My dad is very strict. I don’t have a car, so I don’t get out much.” She looks embarrassed and that is the last thing I want. And I’m also worried that this is going to turn into some sort of mutual confessional, and I’m not ready to spill the way she is, so I try to lighten the mood.
“Well, where’d you learn to kiss like that, then? Couldn’t have been from kissing your pillow,” I tease.
But she doesn’t laugh.
“That was my very first kiss.”