SPOTLIGHT (2 page)

Chapter Two

           
Abby stood, hands on hips, in the only part of her apartment where there was room for a person to stand.

“It’s really not that bad,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

It wasn’t that bad at all. The little apartment on the eighth floor of the building was claustrophobically narrow certainly, but it was clean and the big bolt lock on the door looked sturdy enough and her little sputtering air conditioner was doing its darnedest to keep the one-bedroom apartment a livable temperature in the summer’s oppressive heat.

It had come pre-furnished, which was a blessing in Abby’s opinion because she had not relished the idea of furniture shopping by herself and couldn’t have afforded it anyway.

How would I get it up here anyway?
 
She wondered at the floral, grandmother-style three-person couch and then at the little breakfast table with its two tall back chairs. They certainly hadn’t traveled up there in the little rickety elevator she had found in the building’s narrow lobby.
 
Abby imagined the baby grand pianos hefted on strings that dangled above foes in old cartoons and laughed to herself. She was already getting too used to being her own source of amusement.

But the apartment was in truth a one-person apartment and Abby didn’t really envision herself entertaining much. Two people in such small a space would be kept in awkwardly close quarters, especially if they both aimed to walk through the apartment at the same time.

Even now, Abby looked around at the boxes that had been stacked around the combined living room and dining room area and wondered if she was breaking some fire code she did not yet know of. The various cardboard boxes contained the belongings she'd had shipped ahead of her arrival. Her landlord, Len, had been kind enough to receive them and stack them up precariously in her apartment for her.

Len had met her in the eighth floor hallway as soon as she’d texted him that she had arrived. He was an amazingly large man in his mid-forties and the thin wisps of black strands across the pale pink expanse of his scalp where all he had left on his head to call hair.

Abby had asked him if his full name was Leonard by way of conversation. He said no and offered nothing further on the topic. He sweated profusely in the narrow un-air-conditioned hallway and was more likely to grunt than to give full sentence answers but Abby chalked this down to New York sensibility. Other than that he was fairly amiable, offering her a brusque verbal tour of the building and the neighborhood, telling her where she might buy her groceries or do her laundry and telling her which streets she might want to avoid, at night, alone.

Len had even been so polite as to not question the cuts on her hands or her rumpled clothes.

“I kind of fell,” Abby offered when she caught him looking at the scuffs on her jeans. He grunted but said nothing more about it and Abby decided he had probably, over the years, learned not to ask too many questions. Instead of questioning her, Len had told her where she could find a first aid kit under the sink of her new bathroom.

Now she moved from the living room to that bathroom, adding her toothbrush and other toiletries to the metal rungs hung on the wall over the toilet. The bathroom was just as narrow as the rest of the apartment, the toilet very nearly touching the edge of the shower stall. The whole place was very awkwardly laid out and it needed an occupant with a certain amount of grace to not trip themselves up maneuvering through it.

“I can be graceful. Despite recent events,” Abby said to her reflection in the dingy mirror that hung over the sink. The mirror was rusted over on the sides and it had a partition down the center where one side could be slid open to reveal a small medicine cabinet behind it.

Now though, the partition fell just over Abby’s face and her reflection was split in two halves that didn’t quite meet to form one cohesive whole.

Split in half,
Abby thought,
one part of a whole, one part that can never be two again.
She felt the usual tightening in her chest, the twisting in her stomach that always rose up when she caught her reflection and didn’t see herself.

Angie,
she thought as she looked at her own limp brown hair. She watched her own dark brown eyes well up with tears that shimmered and shook but did not fall down her pale lightly freckled face. There it was again, the guilt, the sadness.

“Angelica,” she said to the mirror. She squinted her eyes a little, puckered her lips just the slightest bit. Different, but the same.  Still it wasn’t right. None of it was right.

Angelica Dawes, Abby’s twin sister, had been the beautiful one. They weren’t identical twins scientifically speaking but they had always looked near enough alike that everyone back home in the close-knit community of South Meadow had a hard enough time telling one from the other.

They had shared everything growing up together being their parent’s only children, and when they were younger they could just about read each other’s minds and finish each other’s sentences. At one point they had been inseparable much to the chagrin of their parents who insisted that they had to learn to make friends of their own. Every night they’d lie awake discussing their shared dream: to be famous actresses in New York City. However, as they’d entered their teenage years, things had drastically changed between them.

Where Abby was meek and shy and awkward, Angelica was boisterous and free-spirited, a natural-born performer. Never was this more apparent than when they reached high school. They had spent less and less time together, understood each other less and less, and every conversation between them would eventually turn into a misunderstanding. The simple fact was they had reached an age when they were trying to define themselves as individuals, Abby would understand later, but everyone in South Meadow viewed them as an interchangeable two-some. Eventually they barely spoke, the rift between them was so great and it was then that tragedy struck.

They had been gifted a new car for their sixteenth birthday and the car crash had happened only two weeks later. Angie had been driving alone, they’d told her, on a winding road in the rain, too fast. The officials had said she must have lost control and driven into the divider, but no one could really say why. Angie had died on impact.

Abby always thought she’d know if anything happened to her sister, she believed they had some intrinsic connection, some soul-tying telepathy. But on the day of the accident there had been nothing. No strange feeling, no hint that where there were two there suddenly was now only one. Abby had been away at theater camp that day and she only knew something had happened to her twin when her parents had come to pick her up. She could remember the pair of matching grief-stricken expressions her mother and father had worn that day and for a long while after. Abby knew it must have pained them to see her out of the corners of their eyes and glimpse both the child they had lost and the child they had remaining in one face.

Still Abby’s parents had stayed strong for her sake. They had told her that she could miss her twin sister Angie, but she had to understand it was God’s plan, His will. For a long time Abby couldn’t understand, she refused to. She held tight to her sorrow, her regret, her guilt. She and Angie had come into the world together, but they had been as far apart as two people could be when Angie had left it. There was a part of herself that Abby would never be able to forgive for that.

Would it ever be gone, that feeling that crept up when she was alone? And now she was truly alone in this crazy, whirling, unpredictable big city.

Her thoughts were raging and wild, but when she spoke out loud to her reflection in the mirror she was surprised to find she sounded strong and calm.

“I’m not alone. I know that, Lord. I know that You are always with me, guiding me.”
            She tried a smile, watched it stretch and meet uneven in the middle of the mirror where the partition fell. Already she felt her agitation calming. She had a gift, a blessing in the form of her talents, and finally after all these years, she could pursue the opportunity to use it. It was a weight, certainly, to bare the load of two people’s dreams on her singular back. But it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

Abby smiled again, a genuine, heart-warming smile and then she imagined Angie smiling back.

“I’m never alone,” Abby said.

Confidence restored, she wiped away the tears that had slipped past her defenses. As she headed back out into the cramped living room to continue unpacking, she could hear classical music playing in the next apartment over. The song sounded familiar, a slow, swelling piano composition that Abby could not quite place. Still it sounded hopeful, and deciding that the song was playing for her, an anthem of sorts, Abby cracked open another cardboard box and humming along, she got back to work.

Chapter Three

“So you're all settled in then?"

The voice on the other end of the phone line was tiny and a bit changed by the distance but that did not make it any less of a wonderfully familiar pleasure to hear.

"Just about, Mom," Abby said with a broad smile. It was the third time in their brief conversation that her mother had asked that exact question but Abby wasn't truly tired of hearing it just yet. It was always nice to be worried about.

"There are some things of yours in your room--I guess I should say your old room, that'll take getting used to--we could have them shipped to you. Some books--"

"It's okay, Mother. Really, I'm fine. I have everything I need," Abby said a touch more insistently. “I don’t have any time to read anyway.”

"I hope you’re not stressing yourself out too much, dear. What about your--" Her mother began, but her father's booming voice cut in on the other line.

"If Abigail needs anything out there I'm sure she'll let us know hon’."

Abby had to giggle at their familiar antics. They were like a well-practiced comedy duo, those two and not a thing had changed in the week since she'd left South Meadow for New York City. Only her father could make the word "hon’" sound like a caress and a curse word at once. And Abby knew her mother would have home-cooked meals express delivered to her by the US postal service if it meant her daughter would be well-fed.

"Well, if you're really sure there's nothing we can do," her mother pressed.

"What your mother is really saying with her needling and wheedling is that we’re both extremely proud of you for taking such a big step and finally following your ambitions. You’ve got a God-given talent kid, so go ahead and show them what’s what out there. We’ll be here holding down the fort.”

“Thanks Daddy, I will.” Abby beamed. “I’ve gotta run now though. Can’t be late for work. I love you both!”

Hanging up the phone, Abby glanced at her wristwatch. It was later than she realized. She’d let time slip away from here while she’d been catching up with her parents back home. If she hurried she’d just be able to catch the express train uptown. If she waited any longer and missed it she knew the next one would have her arrive five minutes late. Aaron would never let her hear the end of it if she was late.

Grabbing her purse and keys, she rushed out the door. Outside, the heat wave still blazed relentlessly and the weather forecasters all agreed that it wasn’t letting up on its grip of the tri-state area any time soon. Summer had arrived and with it a low hanging constant humidity.

On the corner, some kids had managed to pry open a fire hydrant which was erupting with a geyser of cool water over the sidewalk and into the streets. The spray was creating little rainbows in the sun and all the kids were soaked and smiling. Abby envied them but there was no time to pause and watch their drenched dancing.

Abby turned a corner and descended into the subway entrance where the world turned even hotter. She fumbled with her metro card at the turnstile, still not practiced in which way it ought to go in. But finally she sorted it out and jogged towards the uptown platform with scores of other commuters. The subway train was already stopped on the tracks and Abby managed to shimmy in between its closing doors. Inside the subway car it was crowded but cool and Abby breathed a sigh of relief as they lurched forward and began moving towards their destination.

The Home Sweet Diner tried to be quaint but mostly came out corny. Its original owners had aimed to bring a southern hospitality feel mixed with a mother’s love ambiance to the big city but Abby suspected they’d gone a little overboard and none of the subsequent owners had dared untangle the mess. What resulted was a kitsch twenty-four-hour diner liberally decorated with picnic tables and taxidermy moose heads.

Its waitresses, of which Abby was one, were required to wear gingham dresses with lace aprons and matching hair bows, a uniform which was as impractical as it was gaudy.  Abby had learned in the new employee handbook that it was compulsory that the employees kept up a 1950’s sensibility when dealing with all patrons.

For all that, Home Sweet’s eccentric appearance didn’t take away from its high quality food, particularly its signature apple pies, and it didn’t detract from the fact that it was on a busy NYC cross street, open twenty four hours and most important on that particular day, heavily air-conditioned.

Abby couldn’t complain about her new position. She had worked as a waitress since high school back home in South Meadow, and although she was clumsy elsewhere in life, she certainly had a gift for balancing plates of hot food.

She had found the job opening through an online search back home when she’d first settled on moving to New York, and after hearing her credentials over the phone, Aaron, the restaurant’s manager, had hired her on the spot.

Abby had officially met Aaron in person the day after she moved in. He was a gangly thirty-something, with a constant stubble and long shaggy hair so dark black it seemed to shine. The best she could describe him as was
nearly
attractive, but there was something about his toothy smile that Abby found distrustful.

“Aaron only hires the pretty girls,” was how her new co-worker, Noelle, had put it. “But don’t let him bother you. He’ll act all heartbroken when you turn him down and then he’ll get over it. It’s New York, there’s no lack of pretty girls.”

Noelle was definitely pretty. At five foot eleven she was as tall as Aaron and more than a head taller than Abby. Most of that height was in her strong lean dancer’s legs. Noelle was only nineteen and had moved to the city from the more suburban Staten Island with the original intent of being a Rockette at Radio City Music Hall.

“Turns out I’m just a little too tall,” Noelle had told her, cracking her gum. “So I decided to be a model. Better costumes anyway. Less reindeers. ”

Abby liked Noelle right away. The girl was undeniably funny. She constantly cracked jokes just as often as she cracked the gum she was perpetually chewing. Noelle’s dogged determination and witty outlook about life reminded Abby of her sister in a lot of ways. Aside from that, the two had so many career aspirations in common and Noelle had already started informing Abby of open calls for auditions around town.

“Here’s the address I was telling you about,” Noelle said, waving a scrap of paper as Abby entered the restaurant for another double shift at the Home Sweet. “It’s just a commercial but they’re looking for extras who can sing and dance.”

“I’ll take anything I can get,” Abby said, tucking the scrap of paper into her apron pocket. “Thank you, Noelle.”

“No problem. I’ll keep ‘em coming. We just keep auditioning like crazy and someone’s bound to take pity on us, right?”

Abby laughed. “That’s not exactly how I’d put it.”

Noelle shrugged, pulling off her own apron. “Anyways, it’s all yours. Have fun. Well, try to, at least.”

“You’re done for the day?” Abby asked.

Noelle let out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, believe me girl, I wish I was. I’m working a split. I’ll be back to join you for the dinner rush. That is unless I meet my prince charming on my break and he whisks me away to Paris. Then I’m not coming back. Sorry. ”

Abby shook her head in bemusement. She grabbed a pencil and order pad and stuck them in her apron pocket.

“It’s pretty slow now, just regulars mostly,” Noelle said gesturing to the section of the restaurant she had been working in.

Abby noted an older couple in a corner booth who had come in for lunch every day that she had been working. Next to them at a table were two women in smart-looking business suits she’d never seen before.

“Watch out for Aaron today. He’s in a mood,” Noelle said rolling her eyes.

“Oh boy,” Abby groaned.

“And if you can get that hot guy over there to order anything other than coffee, please teach me your ways. He’s been here for hours.” Noelle nodded at a man sitting alone at the farthest booth in the restaurant.

Abby followed Noelle’s gaze. The man looked up, not at them but seemingly just to flip his blonde hair away from his face before returning to whatever he was looking at, and Abby’s heart skipped a beat.

“I know him,” she said and didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until she noticed the look Noelle was shooting at her.

“Do you? Good for you, girl. He’s gorgeous. And hopefully a good tipper.”

Abby shook her head. “I mean, I don’t really know him. I don’t even know his name. I saw him the first day I came to New York. He kind of saved my life.”

“What? Do tell!” Noelle blew a huge bubble gum bubble, then popped it with one of her long fake nails.

Abby felt herself blush. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Noelle shot her a look as if to say ‘try me’ and leaned against the counter, settling in. Abby relayed to her the stupid mistake she’d made getting out on the traffic side of the taxi and the near miss with the cyclist.

“If that’s not out of a fairy tale I don’t know what is. Damsel in distress. Tall, dark and handsome stranger to the rescue.”

“He’s more fair than dark actually. Blue eyes,” Abby whispered back with a giggle.

“That’s not the point! It’s perfect! Don’t let him pass you by. If you don’t snatch him up I certainly will.” Noelle gave her a little shove in his direction. “And this time
please
remember to ask his name, at least.”

Abby let Noelle’s push propel her towards the main part of the restaurant. First she checked on the older couple, making sure they were pleased with their meals, and then brought the check for the two businesswomen. She stalled a bit, straightening place settings on empty tables and wiping down a counter that didn’t truly need wiping down, then finally she grabbed a pot of coffee and made her way to the back of the restaurant.

Here goes nothing,
she thought.

He looked up as she approached and a number of emotions flitted across his face, surprise, then something else, then finally a huge smile. Abby felt herself melt and the smile she gave him in return was automatic.

“Abby,” he said to her and she was so startled that she nearly dropped the coffee pot.

“How do you know my name?”

With a laugh, he pointed to the name tag she had pinned to her apron.

“Oh right, I forgot about that.” Abby laughed too, feeling herself start to sweat.
Good, I’m making a fool of myself all over again,
she thought. “You remember me, I suppose.”

He nodded, “I’ll admit you look a little different when you’re not splayed across the pavement.”

“Oh great! That’s how you remember me!”

He smiled even broader, if that was possible. “No, no, I remember the extraordinarily pretty girl that I literally swept off her feet. Did I apologize profusely enough for that? I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay. I’d be much worse if that bike had had its way. Look.” She presented him her hands which were all but healed now. A few red lines still crisscrossed her palms. He took them in his and caressed the marks with one impossibly gentle finger. Abby felt her knees turn to jelly.