The Storm Before the Calm (4 page)

I nodded. The excitement of being in New York had filled me with adrenaline, but the spike lasted only so long. It was beginning to fade, and with it, so was I.

“It won’t be long now. We’re almost there.”

A
UNT
G
INNY
lived near One Hundredth and Riverside, a block away from the Hudson. The neighborhood seemed quiet, which was a different feeling than a lot of the others we’d driven through to get there. If I’d thought the flight from Beacon had been treacherous, it was nothing compared to the way our cabdriver dodged in and out of traffic, using his horn more as a signal he would be barging in rather than its intended use.

Defying the odds, we arrived at Ginny’s apartment relatively intact. Her four-story building was made of a light gray stone, and the blue awning stretched out almost all the way to the street and protected us from the light drizzle that had started during our ride there. Aunt Ginny paid the driver once he’d pulled my bag from the trunk, and I thanked him before he got back in the car and sped off.

“Miss Ginny,” the doorman said as he stepped forward in his shiny black boots and navy waistcoat to hold the door open for us.

“Hi, Henry,” Ginny said. “I’d like you to meet my nephew, Charlie. Charlie, this is Henry.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, nodding politely.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Henry replied.

“Charlie is going to be staying with me for a few months, so you’ll be seeing a lot of him,” Ginny added.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Are you going to school here in the city?”

I tilted my head to the side. “Sort of. I’m doing a summer intensive with the Free Rein Dance Company.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Henry said. “My granddaughter is a dancer, and I think she was talking about one of their shows she went to last fall. She raved about it. You must be thrilled.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. I can’t wait to get started.”

“We’re very proud of our little prodigy. I never had kids, but I always joked with my sister that she got the good one, so there was no point in me ever having any. I wasn’t going to do any better.” Ginny winked and ruffled my hair.

I got the impression she thought I was still the thirteen-year-old boy she’d seen the last time. No matter, though. I was happy to be here and happy to be with Aunt Ginny.

We bid good evening to Henry and walked across the marble-clad foyer to the elevator. Pressing the button for the third floor, I blinked a few times, trying to wake myself up a little. I didn’t want to be rude and head to bed the moment I arrived, but jet lag, as it turns out, is a very real and very serious condition. The time change between South Dakota and New York, however slight, made for a difficult time staying upright.

The doors opened, and Ginny ushered me down the hallway, the wheels of my suitcase clicking over the penny-tiled floors. She unlocked and pushed the door open for me to walk in.

“Your room is down the hall to the right. Go ahead and dump your stuff in there. I’ll make you something to eat, and then you can get to bed.”

At the mention of food, I realized I was starving. I hadn’t given it a thought. With so much else going on, eating had been put way on the back burner. Now that it was an option, I recognized how hungry I was.

“Any requests?” Ginny asked.

“Nope. I’m easy.”

“Sandwich?”

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

“Okay. Go get settled, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

I thanked her and made my way down the hall, finding my room easily. It was tiny but perfect for me. A small bed sat beneath a window along the far wall, and a dark gray carpet covered most of the parquet flooring, making the room feel warm and cozy.

I slid my suitcase against the wall, unzipped the top, and pulled it open. Things had shifted during the trip, but it looked like everything had survived. I eyed the closet, the door ajar so I could see the emptiness inside. I supposed I should unpack, seeing as I was going to be living there for three months. It didn’t make much sense to be living out of a suitcase, but I was far too tired to find the motivation right then. I took only what I needed to get ready for bed, then undressed.

I sat down on the bed, then reclined so my head rested on the pillow, and closed my eyes. The sound of footsteps had me snapping my eyes open.

“Sorry,” Ginny whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. If you’re too tired, I can throw this in the fridge and you can have it later.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pass out like that. I wanted to visit with you a little before I crashed.”

“Oh, Sprout. That’s okay. You look absolutely beat. Why don’t you climb into bed? I have the day off tomorrow. We can spend some time together then. I thought I’d show you some of the city, let you get the lay of the land and learn how to navigate the subway before I unleashed you on Manhattan the day after tomorrow.”

I gulped. I hadn’t really thought about how I was going to be getting to and from the studio. I suppose in the back of my mind I’d known I’d be on my own in New York, but as the reality slowly crept up on me, I began to get nervous.

“What if I get lost?” I asked.

“You won’t. I already looked up where the studio is. Straight shot from here. You’ll be fine. We’ll do it together tomorrow—a dress rehearsal—and then on Monday, you’ll be all set to go.”

I smiled brightly. My nerves were still nagging at me, but I didn’t want Ginny to know what a mess I was. She had moved to New York all by herself when she was even younger than me. “Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, Charlie. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. G’night, Aunt Ginny.”

“Night, Sprout,” she said, kissing her fingers before pressing them to my forehead.

And then she was gone and so was I, lost to the conscious world.

Chapter Four

I
SLEPT
late the next morning, finally awoken by the litany of sounds flooding in my window from the street below. A garbage truck and a taxi were in a fight for dominance over who had the right of way down the narrow street that was only made narrower by the line of cars parked along either side.

When I emerged from my bedroom, my hair disheveled and sleep creases still visible on my cheeks, my aunt was in the living room, captivated by a book.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” she said, putting her book down in her lap. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Should I make us breakfast?”

Ginny laughed, her head falling back as she chuckled. “No, no, Charlie. This is
my
apartment. You think I have any of the necessary equipment or ingredients to make breakfast? No, no, my dear boy. We will go out. Besides, this is Manhattan. There’s no point in cooking when there are so many amazing restaurants steps from your door.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you taking me out for meals all the time. My mom gave me money for groceries. We could just—”

“Charlie, listen to me,” Ginny said, standing. “You’re not going to worry for one minute about money while you’re here. Not at all. You are my guest, and you’re family. I don’t have kids, and it’s been far too long since I saw you last. I have time to make up for in spoiling you. So get dressed. We’re going out!”

I nodded my understanding, not entirely comfortable with Aunt Ginny paying for me, but I certainly wasn’t going to argue with her. From what my mom had told me, she made a wonderful psych nurse, but I knew Ginny would have done just as well as a lawyer. That woman could argue her way out of anything.

I hurried back to my room, grabbing some clothes before jumping in to have a quick shower. It wasn’t long until I was clean and dressed and definitely ready to get something to eat.

We left the apartment, waving hello to Henry, who was sitting behind the desk in the foyer. The air smelled wet that morning, like it had been raining all night, but the pavement was dry. There were lots of people out walking, some meandering slowly and others marching down the sidewalk with purpose. I’d been in New York for less than twenty-four hours, but somehow I felt different.

As we passed a community center whose doors held signs with information on a Ping-Pong tournament, I realized no one knew me here. I could be someone completely different. I didn’t have to be the pathetic loser with no friends. This could be a chance for reinvention.

Ginny spoke, interrupting my thoughts. “Diner for breakfast sound okay?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then here we are.”

I looked up and saw we were stopped in front of a restaurant with no name. The red awning over the door declared “Diner,” but that was it. We stepped inside and waited for the hostess to attend to us. The place was packed. I had to wedge myself up next to the pie carousel as a family squeezed past me and out the door.

After a few moments, we were led to a table near the back of the restaurant. Ginny slid into one side of the booth as I sat down in the other. There were mirrors along all the walls, an item of décor I found mildly disconcerting. I didn’t like to look at myself on most occasions, avoiding mirrors whenever I could. It was a bit of a challenge at the studio, but usually when I was dancing I was focused on the movement and not on how I looked.

I shifted my attention, choosing instead to peruse the menu. I debated whether to order something full of fat and sugar or to be good and order a breakfast that was conducive to a healthy lifestyle. In the end, the photo of the belgian waffle with the strawberries and whipped cream proved to be too much of a temptation. I closed my menu, ready to order.

The waiter appeared a few minutes later, jotting down our orders on his little orange notepad. When he was gone, Ginny stared at me for a minute. The longer she looked, the more uncomfortable I became.

“What?” I asked finally.

“Nothing. I just can’t believe how much you’ve grown up.”

I could feel the blush starting.

“I can’t believe the little boy who used to steal the gum out of my purse is sitting in front of me, a grown man,” Ginny said, her eyes warm.

The blush was on in full force now. “I’m not that different,” I said, not sure what to do in this situation. I felt oddly flattered and very uncomfortable at the same time. Pinned down by her gaze, I wanted to squirm.

She shifted in her seat, sitting up straighter. “What do you want to do today? Is there anything you’re dying to see in New York? It’s your first day. We should do something amazing.”

I was grateful for the change of subject, but I didn’t have any idea. I hadn’t ever considered coming to New York, so I hadn’t had a lot of time for research. “Figuring out where I’m going and how to use the subway system is at the top of my list. I’m guessing I’m on my own tomorrow?”

Ginny nodded. “I wish I could go with you for your first day, but I won’t be home from work before you’ll have to leave. We’ll get you sorted out today, though. It won’t take long, and you’ll be a pro.”

A
FTER
BREAKFAST
we headed out and walked east, turning on Broadway and walking down to Ninety-Sixth Street. The subway station was in the middle of the road, glass archways covering the entrance. I followed Ginny through, stopping at one of the machines to purchase my first MetroCard. I held the yellow and blue card in my hand, and I felt as though that card were my key to the city.

I was terrified.

We took the stairs down to the platform, pushing through the crowds of people coming up from the train. I felt a little like a salmon trying to swim upstream, and the number of people pushing past me was overwhelming. I felt small, inconsequential.

Standing on the platform, we waited patiently for the train to arrive. It turned out we didn’t have to wait long. A 1 train pulled in a moment later, and as the doors opened, people poured out, walking briskly past me. Ginny and I waited until it was all clear before stepping on.

We found a section of the car that was less busy, and Ginny sat down. “You might as well sit down too. It’s going to take a few minutes for us to get where we’re going.”

I did as I was told, sitting next to her on the yellow and orange seats. There were all kinds of people in that car. Businessmen in well-tailored suits, a woman wearing scraps of clothing and carrying a bag of garbage, some teenagers sharing iPod headphones, and a man reading a book in what looked to be Chinese. The stations faded into the distance as the train whisked us from stop to stop.

Some of the stations were old and filthy. They reminded me of the sewer tunnels I’d seen in movies, the walls covered with graffiti and the decorative tiles grimy and uncared for. Others were shiny and sleek in their contemporary design. But my favorites were the ones that looked like they’d been constructed when New York was actually new, and they’d been looked after since then. I loved the mosaics on the walls. They were beautiful.

“The next stop is ours,” Ginny said, standing up and holding on to the metal bar. I did the same, getting ready to exit the train once it came to a stop. We got off at Fourteenth Street and made our way to street level.

“We’re only a couple of blocks from your dance company. We can walk over there if you’d like. You can see the building?”

“If you don’t mind,” I said. I looked around as we walked, taking it all in. I’d never seen so many brick buildings before or such beautiful designs. I had a sudden appreciation for architecture. The buildings back home were nothing like this, most of them made from vinyl siding or stucco. The church on Maple Street was the most interesting of them all, and that was only because of the intricate stained-glass windows on the front. All the other structures seemed dull and like Xeroxed copies of one another. Here each building seemed to have a personality of its own. I wanted to see what was inside each and every one.

We walked toward the Hudson, and as we went I tried to memorize each step. I’d looked at a map before I left, and while most of the city was set up like a grid with numbered streets, Free Rein was located at the edge of the Meatpacking District, where the streets were named and some ran diagonally.