In a New York Minute: Part 1

Hey everyone! So I’ve decided to start posting a serial that I have written. I’ll post one each week. Hope you like. Let me know your thoughts

 

A hot blanket of air engulfed me as soon as I got off the plane, flushing my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I had started to sweat so profusely but the heat was close and clammy. So was she. I had only met her once before, but the audible laugh had embossed on my memory and I recognised her clipping tongue before I had even planted one foot in the arrivals lounge.

The all-American smile was present; that unmistakable white slash of teeth that seemed to grace a thousand other faces on this side of the ocean. She bounced towards me with that confident stride of hers. She wasn’t unattractive, but her chin slightly protruded, emphasising the way her mouth turned down. She was of Cuban, Finnish extraction, but she didn’t have an exotic appearance – instead her features were an identikit of every American teen; the tipex teeth and bouffant hair being two dead giveaways. She didn’t have ‘pillowy lips’ like mine, – not my words but Tom’s – (a result of my Middle Eastern extraction), but instead they were thin and lizard like. But she had pretty hazel eyes, they were small and inquisitive, and probably her only redeeming feature. She was wearing a long sack dress, which we would later discover was because she was  ’saving’ her leg hairs to be waxed, and didn’t want to show them. So far, so strange.  I wondered how long he would be humouring this relationship.

 

‘Hi! Hi!’ she gushed in her New Jersey tongue, while wrapping her scrawny arms around my body. This was it; I was in her killer grip. She clung to me, like an octopus to its prey. I guess that’s what she saw me as. Then behind her I saw Tom emerge. At least it had to be Tom because he was carrying her bags, and because I knew it was, even though he was a shadow of his former self. You have to understand that the Tom I had met and known at university was not this young man before me. Tom had been scruffy, and not self-sufficient. He had never washed his own clothes, and had never washed his bed sheets. Full stop. His idea of a nutritious meal consisted of chicken Kievs covered in crisps and topped with dollops of brown sauce. And to this day he can never understand why he was always sick. He had a pasty complexion back then, and tousled, rough hair. He didn’t bother shaving much, for the simple reason that he didn’t need to. But he was tall, and had baby blues that kept the girls coming back like bees to the honey pot. 

The key to Tom’s success was his innocence. He was a Christian and intended on sticking firmly to the rules. That is, when it came to women. He would go out and get drunk, and do silly things like every university boy; in that sense he was typical, but it was a different story when it came to the subject of girls. He had reams of women lining up for him. He would have someone interested and he would kiss them but never let it go further. Of course by doing this it just made them keener. I remember one girl telling me she found him ‘intoxicating.’ Inadvertently he had made himself apparently irresistible to the opposite sex. Our group of friends thought it was hilarious, including me. Every woman I knew who had got close to him wanted to be the one to take him and break him in.

I remember on one occasion, we met these Americans, when we were in halls. They were absolutely fascinated by the English culture. They could drink and they were, like, only eighteen!  We all sat drinking at this pub; the American girls, my housemate Emily, my then boyfriend, Griff, and Tom. They kept watching me and my boyfriend, making comments;

‘You guys are making out, that’s so cute! How long have you been dating?’

‘In England we don’t ‘date’; we’ve been going out for 8 months.’ I laughed.

‘And you just, make out like that? Like in the bar?’

‘Yeh it’s quite common here, we don’t have places to drive and park like you guys do!’ They all erupted into laughter at this statement, like teenagers who had been busted by their parents. 

‘Anyway, my date and I’… (I indulged) ‘are going home, enjoy the rest of the night.’

By the time Griff and I had got home, a series of hilarious events were unfolding back at Tom’s. Tom, being the gentleman that he was, had offered to walk one of the girls home. Her name was Tilly, and Tom was totally oblivious to the fact that she had taken quite a shine to him. When they got to her flat, she offered him in for a drink and he politely agreed. After disappearing to use the bathroom, Tom emerged to discover the girl, stark naked on her bed.

‘So..are we gonna fuck or what?’ she almost shouted at him.

Tom later re-enacted his stunned face. The thing was, the bed was in front of the door. Tom was too polite to the point of hilarity to turn her down. He made his excuses and the promptly left.

Via the bathroom window.

So here he was, in front of me at JFK airport. I hadn’t seen him for a year. He had blossomed into a butterfly.  He stood in front of me for a second. His skin was tanned, making his blue eyes glisten. He actually had a bit of stubble and his hair was styled all choppy and spiked . The slightly crumpled t-shirt was working the desired effect; casual cool. And the label, Abercrombie and Fitch, the classic all American brand, was subtly printed on his chest pocket. It was fitted and I could see the outline of his sculpted chest.

He paused for a second and looked at me. His turquoise eyes traced over my face as if he was committing its contours to memory. There was a moment of silence before either of us spoke.

‘Lana. Hi.’

‘Hi Tom.’

‘Hi, hi, you look great. How are you?’ he urged, then paused before leaning into my body, hugging me around the waist. The tip of his sleeve revealed a bronzed bicep. Tom had biceps?

I retracted, somewhat awkwardly and grabbed my bag.

‘It’s so good to see you…’ I offered, struggling with my bags.

‘Yeh you too, let me carry your bags for you,’

‘Thanks, but I think I can manage.’

‘And by that you mean you’ll just give them to Eddie to carry?’

‘Of course.’

We smiled at each other. His eyes seemed to glisten. I felt like he was holding back.  

‘I’m really glad you came out here to see me.’ He looked at me earnestly.

‘well duh, it’s New York,’ I chirped. ‘Wanted to get a visit in before you come back to England and join the fold again.’

I laughed. He didn’t. He looked to the floor and I watched as he touched the back of his head with the palm of his hand, something he used to do when he was nervous.  Before I had a chance to analyse this, the piercing voice was back.

‘Come on, then. You ready?’

 Mariska’s voice sliced across the conversation. She had finished the mandatory hugs with my fellow travellers and best friends, Neil and Eddie, and was ready to be the centre of Tom’s attention again.

Tom and I had been friends with Eddie and Neil at University. I met Eddie on my first night at the student union and, after that evening, hoped to never see him again;  I was with a group of new friends on a large table drinking a lemonade – this was before I drank alcohol, which I would not start drinking for a further two years. On the next table was Eddie and a friend of his. I have to admit, I didn’t like Eddie on sight – he had long black hair and dark skin and looked very intimidating. He looked a bit like an Indian version of Antonio Banderas – or so he’s been told. His hair was long and he had a biker jacket on.  The table I was sitting on was packed and the surface covered with drinks. I ended up putting mine on the edge of Eddie’s table and turned back to my conversation with my friends. Moments later I looked round to get my drink and saw Eddie and his friend in hysterics. I immediately became suspicious. Why were they laughing? What had they done to my drink? I convinced myself they had spiked it.

I had heard about these sorts of things going on all the time, and most of the time it happens right under your nose.  It had been all over the papers at the time, and university girls were being warned.

‘What have you done to my drink?’ I snapped.

‘Er…I’m sorry?’ Eddie replied, while laughing.

‘My drink, it’s there. You’ve obviously done something to it.’

‘What? No, we haven’t done anything to it. Didn’t even notice it.’

‘Oh yeh? Why you laughing then?’

Eddie and his friend looked at each other and then burst into fits of giggles.

‘Alright that’s it, I’m not drinking it.’ I poured the drink into a half full beer glass that had been sitting collecting yeast.

‘You didn’t have to do that.’ Eddie had come to the point where he couldn’t stop laughing and he was beginning to snort his drink out of his nose.

‘You’re….you’re crazy.’ he sputtered while smiling at me.

‘Excuse me?’ I barked. ‘You’re the crazy ones.’

I hoped I would never see them again.

The next day, to my horror, as I came out of my apartment, I saw Eddie putting his key in the door of the flat opposite mine. He looked dishevelled and seemed to be so out of it that he didn’t even notice me. His locks were wrapped under a bandanna and he had bags under his eyes. I became convinced right then. He was a drug user.

Of course as it turned out he wasn’t a drug user, he had just driven six hours on his motorbike with all his stuff. And he hadn’t spiked my drink. He had been laughing at a joke his friend had made. Before long, Eddie and I were thick as theives, along with the rest of our group. The other people in our halls joked that we were the living incarnation of ‘Friends’ the TV show. Three girls in our apartment, and 3 boys in theirs – 2 of which were Eddie and Tom. Although I regularly kept in touch with Tom, Eddie hadn’t seen Tom since university.

‘Hi Tom, how are you boy?’ Eddie slapped Tom on the back in a manly fashion, when I expect really they wanted to hug.

‘I’m great. It’s just amazing to see you guys.’ I caught Tom’s eye once more and he darted his eyes away hurriedly. Mariska hunched her shoulders, flinching at our exchange.

‘Well let’s go, I can’t wait to see your place.’ I said quickly.

 ‘Yeh, we don’t want to hang out all day,’ Mariska inclined, ‘I’m paying for the meter after all. Let’s go.’

 

Neil and I followed her as she charged through the crowds of waiting people. They had all swarmed around the Arrivals gate, waiting for their loved ones. But to Mariska, they were just obstacles in the way,

‘Come on, come on.’ She hissed.

I trailed behind and ended up walking side by side with Tom.

‘I’m sorry about her, she’s highly strung.’ He cracked a smile.

‘No worries.’ I said, not meaning it.

His hand brushed against mine. It seemed purposeful. I looked up at his face.

‘Listen Lana,’ he almost tripped on his words.

‘Yes?’

‘there’s something I have to tell you.’