New York Time
I still don't know how Johnny got up the money for our
plane tickets, but before I knew it we were circling La Guardia. This was my first trip into
Johnny had paid for our tickets - both of them. I hadn't bothered to ask how he'd gotten the
money. I did offer to pay for my share -
and he refused me. I knew if I asked
about his funds, he would shrug and reply "Saved it". I wondered how long he'd been 'saving it' - if it had in
fact come from his salary - but I was too excited to care about that. We would be starting a new life - a daring
life - one beyond the requirements of my parent's approval. I'd have my own place,
and my first try at living with a man. Which was a pretty daring prospect back in '64 - which is why Lisa
had to lie about Billy to my parents.
I didn't want to ask too many questions - I was actually
fighting my own curiosity to best enjoy my new situation. This was
"Are we walking?" I asked Johnny as he handed me
one of my suitcases
from the baggage return.
"No, I've got enough bread for a cab."
"Johnny, how can you afford all of this?" I
worried. "Won't you let me pay
for..."
"Johnny Castle don't live
off of anyone's charity - even the charity of someone he loves."
"I'm not going to let you pay for the cab."
He frowned at me - but the frown gradually developed into
a smile. "Shoulda
known you wouldn't take this lying down."
I laughed. "I
wonder if I can remember how to stop a cab..." We walked together out to
the curb. When we were there and I saw a
taxi approaching, I let out a piercing whistle.
The taxi came to a dead stop.
"Knew you'd be useful," he teased me.
***
Johnny tapped me on the shoulder, pointing over the
driver's shoulder and up the street.
"Our place is just up the street."
I opened up my purse, taking out a five dollar bill, which
sounded like a reasonable amount of money.
When the driver pulled over and stopped the cab, he turned around and
said to me, "ten bucks."
Ten dollars for a five-mile cab ride? I gave Johnny a helpless look, not knowing
what the going rate in
"Pay him. You
don't want to argue with a cabbie in
I nodded, fishing out two five-dollar bills and placing
them in the man's red-stained, calloused hands.
He gave me a crooked smile and tilted his cap toward me. "Welcome to
I smiled back, then opened up the side door and exited the
cab. I took one of my suitcases, and
Johnny handed me the other. "Was
that right?" I whispered, as the cab crawled away and we walked toward the
building in the opposite direction.
"I think that guy gave you a discount. I've been charged twice that for half the
distance."
"My God...Charging that much money when people are
starving on the streets...they ought to be ashamed..."
"It's the way a big city runs itself,
Baby." He walked up the steps of a
dull brownstone with red pansies brownstone.
He spread out his arms.
"We're here."
"It looks nice," I said, taking in the faded
surroundings. The entire block hinted of
past glories - of a vibrant life back when it was built in the twenties. Forty years later the world was crumbling
into poverty. I didn't care about the
forbidding mood surrounding me - anything wrong could be improved. Anything felt possible. "Let's go inside."
He nodded, opening the door and allowing me in. "Billy said the apartment’s on the
fourth floor. Apartment
Four-A."
"All right." We headed upstairs. "Do we have our own bedroom?"
"From what Billy told me, we'll get our own
blankets."
"Blankets? Don't they have a couch?"
"Baby, you've been spoiled for too long. They probably don't have a table to eat off
of. You knew we were gonna have to make
sacrifices, Baby."
I was insulted - clearly he still thought I was the same
girl he had met in the Catskills.
"I knew that. Hey, I made
sacrifices of my own! Plenty
of them!" But when we opened
the door and looked into Billy and Lisa's apartment, what I had imagined simply
could not compare to reality.
The apartment was threadbare - two brown chairs sat in the
middle of the space, the backs buckling in toward the middle and rusty. Suitcases were stacked in a far corner,
closed tight, and nearer to the door sat a plastic garbage pail overflowing
with takeout containers. Behind the
chairs, in front of two windows covered with orange roll-down shades lay a
green sleeping bag. I remembered Lisa's wanting to take it when she moved out of mom and
dad's place. The room is bathed in an
ugly, orange light, bringing up the rusty gloom that the cheap, threadbare rugs
they had purchased could not cover.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"It's home," I
replied. But I had no faith in my own
answer.
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