Chapter 14: "Manhattan"
1333 Words
POV: Maya
She did not cry until she was alone in the dark. Then she only cried once.
The plane landed at JFK at 8 PM. Maya walked through the terminal with her suitcase rolling behind her. Her linen dress was wrinkled ,Her dark hair was tangled and Her bare feet were still cut from the stones on the dock.
She took the AirTrain to the subway. She took the subway to Brooklyn. She walked eight blocks to her apartment on Park Slope which was on the third-floor walkup with a mismatched gallery wall and a kitchen that always smelled like something had been baking.
She unlocked the door.
The apartment was exactly as she had left it. The secondhand furniture she had covered with fabric by herself. The plants are named after Real Housewives cast members. The dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre on her nightstand.
She put her suitcase in the corner ,She sat on her bed and she stared at the wall.
She did not cry.
She sublet her apartment in three days.
A grad student from NYU, a woman named Sophie who studied poetry, wore oversized sweaters and asked if the plants came with the apartment.
"The plants come with the apartment," Maya said.
"What are their names?"
"Ramona,Bethenny,Teresa and Luann."
Sophie blinked. "You named your plants after Real Housewives?"
"I named my plants after Real Housewives."
"I love you."
Maya almost smiled. "The rent is due on the first, The stove doesn't work properly and The radiator knocks."
"I can handle it."
"The succulent needs indirect light."
"The succulent will get indirect light."
Maya handed her the keys.
She negotiated her start date with Harrison Voss over the phone.
"I can start in two weeks," Maya said.
"We were hoping for sooner."
"I need two weeks."
Harrison was quiet for a moment. He was forty-eight, patrician, Harvard-educated, with white hair and a voice that sounded like money. Maya had met him twice. Both times, he had treated her like a colleague, not an assistant.
"Two weeks," he said. "But I'm putting you on a client within forty-eight hours of your arrival."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Welcome to Aldridge, Ms. Reyes."
"Thank you, Mr. Voss."
She hung up. l
Her mother called on Sunday.
"How are you my daughter"
Maya sat on her couch. Her bare feet were healed now, her hair was clean and her apartment smelled like the cardamom tea she had been drinking instead of sleeping.
"I'm fine, mommy."
"Did you eat?"
"Yes I eat "
“What did you eat?"
Maya looked at the empty takeout container on her coffee table. "Rice and beans."
"From the winery/store?"
".yes from the winery/store"
Carmen was quiet for a moment. Maya could hear her mother's breathing. The same breathing she had heard through the walls of their Bronx apartment for eighteen years.
"You're lying," Carmen said.
"About what?"
"About being fine , eating rice and beans from the bodega and whatever happened on that island."
Maya closed her eyes.
"Mami—"
"I'm not going to ask but when you're ready to talk, I'm here."
"Thank you."
“I love you.”
"I love you mom."
She hung up.
Aldridge & Associates was on the thirty-fourth floor of a glass building in Midtown. Not the Sterling tower but a different building , a different elevator and a different desk.
Maya wore an ivory column dress—Housing Works, second floor, best eighteen dollars she'd ever spent. Nude block heels with gold studs and her hair in a severe bun.
She looked exactly like she had looked at Sterling.
She felt nothing like it.
Harrison Voss met her at the elevator. His handshake was firm and his eyes were kind.
"Ms. Reyes. Welcome."
"Thank you, Mr. Voss."
"Harrison."
"Harrison."
He walked her to her desk. It was near the window, with a view of the street below. A small succulent sat on the corner—not Ramona, she had left Ramona with Sophie, but a new one. A different one.
"We heard you like succulents," Harrison said.
"Who's 'we'?"
"Your new team. They wanted you to feel welcome."
Maya looked at the succulent. Then she looked at the team—four people, three women and one man, all of them smiling at her like they actually wanted her there.
"Thank you," she said.
Her voice didn't crack.
The first week was a blur of client meetings, spreadsheets and conference calls. Harrison gave her a high-profile assignment on her second day—a restructuring analysis for a mid-sized energy client.
She stayed until 9 PM every night not because she had to but because she wanted to be working so she didn't have to be thinking about turquoise water and gardenias and grey eyes that had looked at her like she was something precious.
A man named Nathaniel Cross sat at the desk next to hers. He was thirty-three, warm, funny, with brown eyes and a smile that made everyone in the office feel comfortable. He brought her coffee on her third day.
"How do you take it?" he asked.
"Black. No sugar."
"Good. That's how I take it."
He handed her the cup. She took it.
"You're good at this," he said.
"I know."
He laughed. "Modest, too."
"Modesty is for people who aren't good at their jobs."
He laughed again. Maya almost smiled.
Priya called on Friday night.
Maya was lying on her couch. The takeout container on the coffee table and the cardamom tea she made was already cold. The apartment was dark except for the light from the street.
"How was your first week?" Priya asked.
"Good."
"Just good?"
"Really good."
"And how are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Maya."
"I'm fine, Priya."
Priya was quiet for a moment. Maya could hear her breathing. The same breathing she had heard through dorm room walls and late-night study sessions and the morning after her father's funeral.
"Was it real?" Priya asked.
Maya closed her eyes.
"Was that real?"
"The island. Whatever happened between you and Julian. Was it real?"
A long pause.
"Yes."
"Then why did you leave?"
Maya opened her eyes. She looked at the ceiling which was white with a crack in the plaster that looked like a map of somewhere she had never been.
"Because I believed the lie more than I believed him."
"What lie?"
"The document and the clause was made up. He fabricated a legal document to keep me on the island."
Priya was quiet for a long time.
"Maya."
"Yeah."
"That's not why you left."
"What?"
"You left because you don't think you deserve to be wanted. You left because you think love is something you have to earn. You left because you're terrified that if you let yourself have this—have him—you'll wake up one day and find out it was all a mistake."
Maya didn't answer.
"Am I wrong?" Priya asked.
"You're not wrong."
"Then call him."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know if I can trust him and myself."
Priya sighed. "Maya Reyes, you are the most infuriating person I have ever loved."
"I know."
"Call me tomorrow."
"Okay."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
She hung up.
She did not call Priya or anyone the next day.
She lay on her kitchen floor at 11 PM. The stone was cold against her back.
She had not cried since the island because she had not let herself.
But lying on the kitchen floor, alone in the dark, with the smell of cardamom tea and the memory of grey eyes and the weight of everything she had lost—
She cried.
Just once.
Not loud and long. Just a few tears that slid down her temples and into her hair and disappeared.
Then she stopped.
Her phone buzzed.
Carmen.
"Mija, what happened?"
Maya looked at the ceiling which had a crack with a map of somewhere she had never been.
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END OF CHAPTER 14
- Writer
