One Girl, One City
Madeline Brady
Dedicated to other aspiring writers
..................................................................
Maple Leaf Book Writing Project
Brattleboro,Vermont
Copyright 2013
“Ugh!” My grandmother groaned, seeing the mess I had made with colored paper and
string in the space that, before my artistic talents, would be called a sunroom. When my parents said I would be ALL of spring break with Grammy Lucy in Brooklyn (they were going to some distant cousin’s wedding), I had squealed with excitement. Lucy was by far my favorite grandmother, so much more fun than my Nana who just sat in a corner sewing. Not that it said much. Now I was very much regretting that joy, I sat bored out of my mind, watching Grammy`s small white puli puppy Mop jump up and down, trying to catch a fly. His dreadlocks bounced wildly, suddenly giving me an idea.
“Grammy, can we please have a dance party?” She gave me a look .
“To what music ?”
“Well, I have some Katy Perry on my i-pod, and if you’re ok with it, I’d love
to put on some One-”
“NO, Isabelle, I would not like to have a ‘dance party’! And enough rants about that stupid boy band One Direction.”
I then ran into the guest room in tears, upset that grandma didn’t like my favorite
band. Grammy Lucy called somebody from her small i-phone5.
“Stephen , bring up The Card.”
“Isabelle.”
My grandmother sat across from me on the orange floral down
comforter, stroking my long, silky, light brown hair .
“You know I have never been good with … with children.”, she said stuttering, which is very un - Grandma Lucy like. But I did know what she’s talking about. A family reunion picnic eight years ago caused my three cousins and I to be dressed in waistcoats and dresses with skirts bigger than elephants, all her fault.
Sometimes, even now, I have nightmares about it.
“I don’t know what to do with you, don’t know what is ‘cool’. In fact,
Stephen, my butler......by the way, did you know I have a butler?” As a matter of fact, I
hadn’t, but then again I hadn’t notice that my socks are two different colors, either.
“Anyhow , ….......”
She rambled on and on, but I had long since stopped listening . Grandma had just won
the lottery about a year and half or so ago, and was still in a phase where if she
saw something she wanted, she bought it . “Isabelle, are you even listening ? “ My
grammy had picked up on the fact that I wasn’t not paying any attention whatsoever. “Ok,
I’ll just skip to the point. Stephen is going to take you shopping! “ My mouth
hung open. At home, weren’t not poor, not exactly, but did not waste money .
“Because I know how easily you... misplace things, I got you your own debit card! Of
course, you will only have $ 10, 000 on it, and I will confiscate anything I find
inappropriate.“
Before she could say more, anything that would wake me up into cruel reality, my feet found themselves pounding their way up to my bedroom to plan an outfit.
It was the day. I had gotten up early, not wanting to miss anything. I immediately
went down breakfast, and Grammy’s butler was waiting for me at the kitchen table. It
turned out Stephen was a man with sandy dirty blonde hair who looked in his mid thirties, not anything like the wrinkly old person I had been imagining .
“So, you excited ? “ He spoke in a slow, deep voice with a bit of a southern
twang. I nodded rapidly .
“Well, you should probably get dressed first …” Stephen said,
nodding at the sweatpants I had worn to bed and chuckling.
As soon as the clock said 7:15 , we started the dark navy blue minivan that
would be taking us into Manhattan . I tried to make small talk, asking about his job,
but it got awkward pretty fast and soon I was just desperate for an escape . Luckily the
city was just coming into view .
I stared out the window in awe . I was born in a little town off the coast of Maine, so I didn’t see large cities very often. I couldn’t even process being in a space with so many other people. The skyscrapers towered over us, causing me to feel like an ant in a never ending forest . Their brightly lit windows against the dark purple morning sky gave the impression of millions of tiny fireflies hovering just yards away. We park the van in front of a hole in the ground that has railings cascading down the sides.
“So, Isabelle, I assume you’re paying for your own subway ticket?”
“I’m sorry, but could you get it? I have, like, no idea how .”
Stephen gave me a judging look. “Sure... Stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”
I stood where I was directed to. Suddenly, a mob of pedestrians hurried through, in a fashion similar to zombies in horror movies. Not noticing this at first, I couldn’t fight the crowd. I was swept along with them.
Twelve minutes later, I found myself alone. Well, not alone. More like crowded into a
small subway station with what seems like a fourth of the planet. Stephen was nowhere to be found. To make matters even more dire, neither was my purse.
I whipped my head around in a complete circle, shouting “Stephen! STEPHEN!
Stephen, where are you?”
The only thought in my head besides ‘Oh. My. Gosh. What just happened?’ was wondering if Grammy Lucy would kill me. Probably should have. Only metaphorically, of course. So I decide that I will make absolutely no attempt at asking anyone for help and to reject any offered... I mean, with all her winnings,Grammy is practically famous! Who knows who she’s in contact with?
Wow. My day in the big apple is starting off great.
After stumbling out of the station, I sort of wandered around side streets and alleys, freezing, with my shoulders hunched forward in defeat. Out of nowhere, a rat the size of a toy poodle scurried out of a gutter. Then it just sat on its haunches and stared directly at my face. With an ear-piercing screech, I sprinted in the other direction.
What was I going to do? Where would I go? I had zero ideas. I wished I could call my parents. But they were at some wedding! Even if they knew about my predicament, they might not have helped me very much. My parents worked as glass blowers. Together they’d be even more clueless than I was in that situation. But I refused to talk to a single police officer. They would just have taken me back to Grammy Lucy! Even though I knew that’s what you’re supposed to do, something was holding me back. A little something called pride.......
Oh well. I needed to go home.
I checked in my coat and pants pockets, only to find them bare. I seriously didn’t think of
putting a twenty, at least, in there? Sullen, let down and angry at myself, I trudged down
a street with manholes overflowing with rainwater received the past night. Suddenly a
woman with greasy grey-streaked hair, whom I did not see lurking in the shadows, seems
to jump out at me.
“I see that you have some nice earrings there. So, what do you want for them?”
“Um.....Er...... ?”
“How about a lovely scarf? You seem very cold. Let’s make a deal. The earrings for a
scarf? They’re pretty pinks and greens. Warm too.”
“I guess I could use a scarf.” I said cautiously while taking out my silver owl earrings, their black eyes shimmering, attentive and almost alive. After placing them in the
woman’s outstretched hand, she lead me to a cart I failed to notice that held a large
collection of shawls and scarves in an even wider array of colors. After deciding on a soft
pale blue scarf, I thanked the woman and head on my way.
Wow. Some people are kinda nice. Wait, what am I doing!? I HAVE to find Stephen.
I Must keep focused.
My trade with that woman had got me thinking- what if I just trade for stuff! You know, I
had things on me that I probably don’t even think are worth anything?
After digging through the bowels of my coat, and the nearest trash bin, I came up with a
barrett, an elastic hair band, a few bracelets, a mini calendar from last year, royal purple nail polish and some gum. But who knows what else I can come up with!
My mind races in circles trying to think of things I can do with my strange assortment. No one in their right mind would want my gum. It was flavored pomegranate and was surprising bitter. Not the old calendar, it’s just,well, old. But what about the nail polish? Oh, I could open a little stand for painting people’s nails! Get some money, use a payphone, go home! Not a great idea, but somewhat realistic.
Looking around, I spied a three foot three crate that could have held
anything from dozens of oranges to mardi gras hats. But in it’s second life it was my
table. I took off my new scarf and used it as a tablecloth, because I knew I will need every bit of help I could get in looking presentable. After getting ready and organized, I waited. No one.
After many torturous hours, a customer finally arrived.
A lady wearing a long grey (hopefully faux) fur coat approaches my ‘booth’ with a look of wonder on her face. Short, spiky hair frames her curious hazel eyes and pale face.
“What is your business?” her voice is warm, but quiet and somehow sad.
“Manicures .”
“Oh. That is good. Would you mind giving me one? I do have some money.” The way she speaks is interesting. As if English isn't her first language.
“I wouldn’t mind it all. I only have royal purple, though, so there isn’t a choice of colors....” “Purple is my favorite color.”
I learned that the lady’s name was Carol, and she worked as head writer for a newspaper in Queens. Her two cats were named House and Alley (“Get it? House cat, Alley cat?”). It was kind of exciting, learning tidbits of information about Carol; I found myself dreading when I finish painting her fingertips. But the time had come, and as I was bidding her goodbye, she placed a small pile of folded bills into my hand. As she leaves and I sift through them there are a few ones , a five, and then....
A one-hundred dollar bill!
I called out but she’d walked too far away and could not hear me.
“There must be some mistake- you’ve overpaid me! Come back!” She didn’t make any indication she had heard me. I tried to follow her but realized I couldn’t leave my booth. I start to think. With all this money, I could definitely call a taxi to go home. I quickly folded up the scarf and tied it around my neck. I disassembled my stand, and started
walking towards the street. I raised my arm to hail a cab, getting more excited with every moment. Hailing a taxi is not nearly as easy as it looks, but I was in luck and eventually got picked up. As I got in, the cabbie asks,
“So, where to, miss?”.
I then realize I don’t know the address to the apartment! “Ummm...Ahhh....”
Think, THINK, THINK!
“Well, I know it’s somewhere near Walgreen’s......Can you just take me to the Walgreen’s?I know my way home to the apartment from there.”
“Which Walgreens, there are three within nine blocks of here alone!” he says gruffly.
A little voice called Common Sense was creeping into my head saying this was a bad idea, but, “Can you just start taking me to all the Walgreens you know? I really, really need to get home.” The cabbie rolls his eyes, shrugs, and starts the engine, and as he pulls away from the curb I see the dollars start to slowly accumulate. Click.....Click.....Click.....Click.......
By the time we have reached the first Walgreen’s, the ride has already cost $22.57 -
And I didn’t recognize the store. The one near Grammy Lucy’s was next to a toy shop, while that one was next to a concrete jungle of apartment buildings that were completely foreign to me. The little voice was back, and stronger than before.....this was a bad idea. But what choice do I have? I ask him to drive to the next one, but sit hunched over staring unblinkingly at the meter rising.
After six more stores, with the same result at each and a grand total f $89.19, I was
almost hyperventilating. Maybe I was just hallucinating out of stress, but I know I have seen
that house before. Totally. That park, too.
“Excuse me. But what’s the nearest Walgreens around here?” I questioned.
“Oh, it’s the one on Sycamore Street.”
Sycamore Street! I knew that sounds familiar! Wasn’t Grammy saying that one day we could get lunch at a cute cafe she had found on Sycamore Street? When he takes me to the pharmacy I felt happiness surging through my body like caffeine- this was the place, 100 percent! I look at the meter, holding my breath. YES!! The total is $98.92. I gave a whoop of delight, hand him the $100, and tell him to keep the change. I skip down the sidewalk, blue scarf trailing in the air behind me.
As I pause at the steps I take a deep breath and start to overthink the situation. What if she’s mad at me for losing my debit card? There was $10,000 on it! What if.... What if.... What if she’s mad at me for LOSING HER BUTLER?! I hesitantly rang the doorbell, pausing to listen to the faint symphony of Beethoven; then giggling to myself at Grammy’s eccentric doorbell.
After six long seconds of waiting, the door opened and I was encased in a bear hug I could only describe as suffocating- and wonderful.
“Oh my god, Isabelle, are you alright?!”, Grammy Lucy squealed at the top of her lungs.
“Yes, I’m fine..... ” Suddenly I heard a car door slam behind me.
“Agh! I have no idea where she could be! I’ve already checked the subway station a few too many times to count, and no one says they saw a short thirteen year old girl get on a train by herself....” Stephen!
When he finally saw me, he yelled and ran into the house.
“Isabelle, I am so, so sorry! I turned my back for one minute and you were gone! Forgive me?’
“Of course.”
EPILOGUE:
My parents walked in through the mahogany door.
“Oh Lucy! It’s so great to see you!” Said my father before making his way up a flight of stairs
to get my green polka-dot suitcase. My mother stayed down and made small talk with her own Mom about the weather in our hometown. Finally the car was packed up and running, all goodbyes exchanged, and my family was turning to me as we were walking out of the front
door.
“So, Isabelle, I hear you didn’t get to go on the big shopping trip after all! How about stopping at the mall on the way home, to make up for it?”
I turned to Grammy Lucy and winked. “Nah, Mom. I’m good.”