A Summer Fling Turned Upside Down..

New York City.

A place where dreams are ruined and spirits are shattered… A city that inhabitants dozens of washout actors and actresses... A destination for deadbeats who lurk the streets for a good time... An area that reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, and manipulative success...

Overall, New York City is the epitome of what my mother considers an enjoyable place for travel. The idea of such a unique location is so fascinating, that she spent a majority of my life roaming every nook and cranny, trying to unlock the hidden mysteries that lie beneath the city grounds.

So I’m sure you can understand how much of a surprise it was to me when we completely disregarded the city altogether. Having arrived on a sea port over-looking all of New York City, I didn’t expect us to divert our direction even further; but to save myself from another patronizing response from my mother, I reluctantly chose to keep my mouth shut of any curiosity.

I was kept entertained by the lives being lived right outside the taxi window. There was more diversity in this city than expected. Men wearing leather pants, matched with cheetah print scarves walked along side men in business suits. Most everyone spoke on their portable phones, acting distracted of their surroundings. Vendors along the streets shouted of “limited time offer” sales, attracting gullible tourists who are far too excited to see cheap silver metal necklaces.

It was nearing ten o’clock, but regardless of the time, it was as if the city ran around the clock. I guess it was true that this was the city that never sleeps.

The mayhem calmed a bit once we neared Central Park, where couples strolled along side each other with large goofy smiles plastered on their faces. Even within the restraints of the vehicle, I was given the sense of nausea at the sight of it all.

We came to a halt, and not because of the million street lights that lined the roads. My mother smiled pleasantly and politely at the taxi driver, handing him a whooping amount of cash, that was far from deserved what-with his attitude being highly unnecessary.

I shamefully stepped out of the vehicle after my mother, who was greeted by a stout man with fiery red hair and a grim expression that would frighten the toughest of men.

"Oh hello Franklin," my mother grinned. To my utter surprise, Franklin gave her a smile in return.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Cross. I hope your trip went well." He sounded sincere and genuinely concerned for her well being as he escorted her to the building with my belongings in hand. I would have taken them myself if I hadn't been so distracted by the gigantic buildings surrounding me.

"It was wonderful," my mother responded, "and worth the trip."

We stepped into what I assumed to be a lobby with marble flooring, golden walls, and a small reception area. On either side of us there were four elevators, my mother walking to one on the left.

"Franklin," she continued, "this is my daughter Isabel. She will be living with us from now on, and also attending school with Daniel. Would you please let Sullivan know the new car arrangements. He'll be their permanent driver."

"Yes, Mrs. Cross." He complied. " Also, it's a pleasure to meet you," Franklin said, extending his hand forth. I mumbled an acute hello in response, with a tight smile as I shook his hand. He seemed to sense my unease because he smiled at me and added, "I hope you enjoy your stay here."

Before anyone could peep another sound, my mother stepped into an abnormally large elevator with me following in tow. I hadn't even realized where we were going, but as the elevator doors closed, I heard Franklin say, "I'll send these things up to the pent house."

All was a blur from hence forth. I was overwhelmed, to say the least. Pent house? I've never lived in a pent house, but I once knew this girl my Sophomore year of high school, who bragged on and on about her father owning a pent house in upstate Washington. My Economics class was never pleasant ever since then. I remember who father owned a few business in California, but lost everything once he hit bankruptcy. Including that lovely pent house in upstate Washington.

"Isabel, darling?" Suddenly, I was in a foyer. "Are you alright? You look sick," my mother added.

"No mom, I'm fine. Just tired. This has been a long day."

Indeed it felt like so. There was a three hour time difference from California to New York, and frankly, my mind and body felt it. I was exhausted.

"Follow me, I'll show you to your bedroom. It's right upstairs," she said as she began to walk up the grand, spiral staircase. The floors were a white marble, causing my raggedy old shoes to squeak at every step I ascended, like when they would first polish the floors at school and you heard dozens of squeaks down the hall. There weren't dozens of other squeaks this time, there were only mine. Unfortunately mine rang like a dozen more because of the dead silence.

"Is no one here?" I asked curiously.

"Thomas is stuck in the office. His job isn't very dependable on time," she answered. Mother explained to me about Tom's business. He was co-owner of Silver & Cross Industries, which were a major chain of hotels around the world. Thomas had side projects, she also mentioned. He's a respectable man and well honored in the city.

We landed, and walked down the hall, "Daniel's room is across from yours in case you ever need anything. Thomas and I are downstairs, a few doors down his study."

I nodded in understanding, "And where's Daniel?"

She hesitated to respond, "He's often out. You'll meet he and Thomas tomorrow," she assured. "Now, this is your bedroom."

I was met with white. Loads, and loads of white. White walls, cream furniture that looked closer to white, so it might as well be considered white furniture, light marble flooring, and a white comforter with large, white pillows.

"It's...bright," I muttered to her, forcing a smile.

Really, it was a lovely room. Everything was so open, and there was a beautiful view of the city. The room was just picture perfect. Too perfect. I had fear of touching anything, because I felt as if I would taint it's beauty. Fortunately, the bed looked awfully inviting. Mom used to always say that, 'No matter where you were, as long as the bed was comfortable, you were alright'.

"You don't like it," my mother gathered.

"No, no, mom. Really, it's wonderful. It's just...big," I tried to laugh off.

Either she bought it, or she was too tired to discuss it, because next thing I knew, she was bidding me goodnight and walking out of the door.

Frowning, I kicked off my shoes to an unknown corner, and crawled under the massive down comforter. It was like sleeping on a cloud.

A fluffy...white...cloud...