Lessons In Being A Flapper (15 page)

Though I wanted to explore the city and the hotel itself, the warmth and overall
feeling of comfort my room gave me didn’t encourage me to leave. Instead I lied down on the bed and let my weary, jet-lagged body rest. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking through the windows and my first night in New York had passed without me even enjoying it.

T
he following days passed in a blur. Everything in New York was so fast paced that I had trouble keeping up. I liked my life slow and simple, but here, in the greatest city in the world, things didn’t work that way. I spent most of my days trying to find my way around and was pushed out of the way more than I’d like to admit by overzealous Japanese tourists taking photos or bankers in three piece suits hurrying to Tiffany’s to buy their mistress a diamond bracelet.

The women of New York were of a different species it seemed. They actually reminded me a lot of Sophie: perfect hair, perfect clothes, pointy, six-inch high shoes and stern faces. They looked like they hadn’t seen a bit of fun in years – if ever. I made a mental note to never become one of these women. Though they had it all, they’re appearance screamed that they were missing out on the real joys of life. After all, if you wore a scowl most of the year, what did that say about your life in general?

That got me to thinking that women like Sophie and those I was seeing walking around NYC were more like praying mantises than anything else. All big eyes, skinny bodies, ready to attack if provoked. A praying mantis was scary. Have you ever been attacked by one? I have, twice, and let me tell you it’s not fun. They jump on your face and don’t let go. I assume New York women could be the same way, which is why I had plans of steering clear of them while here.

Feeling like I was extremely out of place here in a city so large and so busy, I decided to take the train from Grand Central Station to South Station in Boston and make my Christmas visit a little early.
I had planned to go the week before Christmas so that I could be back in time for some of the festivities here, but seeing as I couldn’t focus at the moment, I decided to go a week early.

Grand Central Terminal, as it was now called
, was no exception to the fact that everything in New York was larger than life. The terminal housed exclusive shops and eateries along with an area for events like tennis matches and a holiday fair. Who would have thought you’d see all of this in a train station? It was a really whimsical experience and something that would be hard for even the most educated person to put into words.

I boarded my train and knew that heading home was the right thing to do. Despite needing to do a lot of research in the city, I just felt as though I couldn’t deal with all the hustle and bustle right now. I was feeling a little underwhelmed by everything, particularly
by how much I missed my grandparents and the good times we shared.

I decided to call Marisol and check on my dear dog, Clara. After informing me that everything was fine on their end and that I needn’
t worry about anything, I felt slightly better. I tucked into a book for my long ride and let all of my worries fall off my shoulders. At least I could be free of my stress while encased in this railcar because here there was nothing anyone could do to bother me.

When I arrived in Boston, I switched from
the train to a bus in order to get to my town of Hampton, which was about 45 minutes away. I liked the fact that even though I was in a city, I didn’t have to worry about having my coffee knocked from my hands or being pushed over by a crowd of people who failed to realize I was there. New York was just too hectic for me it seemed.

Arriving home felt like stepping back in time. The streets were covered in a thin layer of snow; the trees bare and weighed down by the
harsh winter weather. Compared to San Francisco, New York and even Boston, was like a winter wonderland. My town was so sleepy and quiet. I liked the feeling of it more than I cared to admit. I immediately went to my house, or my former house, since I had left it months ago for greener pastures, I had my key still, but felt like I was intruding and would probably scare the hell out of my mother if I entered without knocking first. So I rang the doorbell twice and listened as the buzz reverberated around the house.  My mom came to the door in a grey sweater and jeans, looking somehow older than I remembered. The drama of the past few years had taken its toll on both of us, though more so on my mom it seemed.

“Autumn!” She screamed, pulling me in for a hug. Nothing could compare to a hug from your mom, could it? Despite our arguments and disagreements, we were still family and she still made me feel safe and loved.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I thought I’d surprise you and come for a visit. I’m working in New York this month so I took the train up this morning,” I explained.

“Well, what a great surprise! I’m so glad to see you! You look different, you know, more grown-up and put together.”

“Thanks,” I said smiling and happier than ever to be home.

“So what are you doing in New York City? Isn’t it dangerous? You could be kidnapped or trampled by Christmas crowds or taken for ransom for God’s sake!”

“Please. Who in their right mind would want to take me for ransom?” I asked. Seriously, I wasn’t rich nor did I belong to a wealthy family so I saw no reason anyone would
want to kidnap me. My mom was a constant worry wart. That’s where I got the trait from, I’m sure.

“You’re right…who would want to kidnap
you? You’d drive them insane!”  We both laughed and it felt so good to see my mom smiling again. It had been so long since things were OK in our lives.

“Come in Auttie, I’ve missed you so so much.”  My mom’s sudden tenderness made tears come to my eyes. I was so sick of crying and being sad. The last few weeks had been the happiest of my life and now here I was all weepy again. The circle never ended!

My mom and I spent a good few hours drinking herbal tea and discussing my new life in San Francisco. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her all I knew about my grandfather and grandmother, since those were both her parents and I didn’t want to make her upset. Instead we chatted about light hearted things, like how our neighbor was
finally
put into an institution. It had been a long time coming, trust me. He was part of the reason I could no longer live in this house, he was just a scary, creepy, mentally ill teenager with lots of acne but his family refused to see it (the mental illness, not the acne.
That
they could definitely see!)

“Mom, do you know anything about the Bridgewater Triangle by any chance?” I asked hoping that I could gain some insight into the area through her.

“A little bit. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m just curious about it. I never knew that Hampton was within the area that was cursed.”

“Yes, it is and according to your grandparents our land here is cursed too. That could be why things have never gone our way here…” My mom pulled out some books that my grandfather, ever the history buff, had saved.  I read each and every one and got chills up and down my spine as I did so. I couldn’t read anymore, especially here in this house where so many strange occurrences had already happened.

I knew I couldn’t stay there, either. My mom was busy these days with her business as a life coach so she wasn’t bothered by the weird things that happened. They never really seemed to be aimed at her anyway. But me? Well, I just couldn’t be here. I
suddenly felt the need to leave – and soon.

I
’ll never forget the day that one of my dearest friends decided that I was guilty of something I hadn’t done. When word got out that my grandmother had been taken away on neglect charges, my friends couldn’t understand it. While most of them were supportive and knew that something was amiss, others weren’t so kind. In fact, one of my nearest and dearest friends decided that she didn’t want to be friends with me at all anymore.

“Autumn, things like this don’t just happen! There has to be a reason behind it,”
she said over the phone one grey and rainy afternoon. I remember exactly what the weather was like because I felt like it was appropriate for the conversation we were having.

“I’m sorry but th
ere must be more to the story.” I knew there wasn’t and she didn’t understand that things like this happened to me all the time. They were unexplainable but they happened.

“What are you getting at, Jane? Are you saying that you believe we did something to my grandmother?” I asked, furious that she didn’t believe me.

“Well, I can’t say for sure, obviously. But it doesn’t add up otherwise. No one would go out of their way to do this. It’s absurd. What’s in it for them?” A clean rap sheet, a good reputation, a good standing in society. There were so many things that the doctors were protecting themselves from. In fact a lawyer told me that “Lawyers live with their mistakes, but doctors bury theirs.” That couldn’t be closer to the truth.

After this conversation, Jane became more and more distant. Even when the truth finally came out after over a year of fighting in court, she didn’t bother to apologize. I knew that our relationship, however much I once valued it, was beyond repair and that she and I would never be friends again.
Sometimes it was hard to take but eventually I accepted that not everyone was going to listen and believe me. Jane was one of many people who took things at face value and couldn’t be swayed no matter what.

I
stayed in Hampton for three days in total because that was about all I could take at the moment. I didn’t really have any friends around here anymore, they had all either moved or decided that I wasn’t worthy of their time, so I packed my bags and thanked my mom for a wonderful weekend of shopping and baking, before heading back to Boston to catch the train to New York.

On the train back to the city, I thought about everything once again. I let it all roll around in my head without stopping to think about any of it
for too long. At one point it all muddled together but afterwards it seemed like things were so much clearer. I felt the overwhelming urge to lay everything to rest. Forget researching the Triangle and trying to figure out if there were ghosts in my past or if I was just crazy (sometimes I felt like I was!) What I needed to do was focus on my future and making sure that it was as good of one as it could possibly be.

I
t must be said that New York City at Christmastime was an amazing place to be. Despite the fact that I found everything too busy and too large at times, I couldn’t help but be sucked into the Fairytale playing out in front of me.  A child screaming in delight as they passed the extravagant window displays; new couples kissing under the bright lights of Times Square; Yellow cabs that buzzed by alongside horse-drawn carriages decorated with pine wreaths and tinsel. It was all just so…lovely. That was the best way to describe it. Just plain old lovely.

I decided that I needed to get out and experience some of this so I called Maxie
(the one from the plane) and asked her if we could get together. She said yes, that sounded great and that we could do something the following day. As the sun bounced off the of the skyscrapers above, I made my way back to The Plaza, wanting to take a hot bath and change clothes before grabbing something to eat.

“Ms.
Hayes, you have a package,” the doorman said to me as I entered the massive foyer. “It is with the reception desk.” Who would have sent me a package here? Besides Sophie and a few others, no one really knew where I was staying. Most likely Sophie had sent me some God awful informational packet to look over for my feature. Kill me now!

To my surprise and delight the package wasn’t from Sophie at all. In fact, if the beautiful
Christmas wrapping paper was any indication, it was actually from Bayani. I couldn’t imagine what he could be sending me here that couldn’t wait until I got back, but I was excited to find out. Running up to my room like a kid in a candy shop (to the obvious mirth of the floor attendants) I unlocked my door, threw my puffy down jacket on the bed and plopped down to open the box.

Underneath the pretty Christmas paper there was a box and then another box inside of that. I kept opening the boxes until I got to the final one – all the while feeling like I had just taken apart one of those Russian nesting dolls called
Matryoshka. I knew straight away what it was; the pale blue box gave it away. Bayani had gotten me something from Tiffany’s! Did that mean he was here in New York too? Oh how I’d love to see him and ravish him on this exceptionally firm bed with 300 count Egyptian cotton sheets. I blushed at the thought. Where had
that
come from?

Pushing all thoughts of a naked Bayani to the back of my mind, I pulled open the box with the most excitement I had ever felt in my life. I couldn’t believe I had a man who had bough
t me something from Tiffany’s!

Oh bullocks
.

The box was empty sans a piece of mistletoe and a note.

Did someone in reception steal the contents? No, they couldn’t have since it was encased in so many freaking boxes. There was no way they could have done that and then put it back together again just like Bayani had it. It was like a puzzle to open, never mind putting the damn thing back together. Apparently Bayani hadn’t gotten me anything from Tiffany’s. He had instead bought me something from the local Christmas tree shop and decided to tease me with a stunning pale blue Tiffany’s ring box. The little brat!