Lemons to Lemonade

The days after the Brooks Brothers fiasco seemed to fly by. I eventually found a gift for my dad: a red, Polo cable knit sweater. Jordy and I took college tours of a few universities including Columbia University, New York University, Fordham University, and the Manhattan School of Music. We saw Columbia mainly for her, while the Manhattan School of Music was my niche. Going to Fordham and NYU was pretty much a compromise since they both had reputable programs, something we both want in a college.

Overall, I would consider myself to be an artsy-fartsy type. I love music and people ask me for fashion advice. I really enjoy analyzing poetry and literature, but I could live without paintings and stuff. Jordy, on the other hand, is the stereotypical, scholar. She loves her three C’s: cardigans, comic books, and Converse. She proudly wears her black-rimmed glass and would much rather debate about political issues about the world at-large than sit around and make music with me. We’re completely different, but it works for us.

All of the schools had really great music programs; some even included internships at recording studios. Basically, I could take on an internship at a recording studio and get college credit. How cool is that? I probably would be doing meaningless tasks like coffee runs and dispatching phone calls, but it could still be fun. When we touring NYU, our tour guide actually showed us the building where she was doing her internship. We didn’t really get the opportunity to see much, so Jordy and I decided that we would come back and visit after lunch.

“What are your plans for the day?” My mom started as we all twirled around each other in the kitchen, making our lunches.

“I think, we’re going to try to go back to the place where Myra is doing her internship to see if someone could tell us what being an intern is like, “ I explained and I plopped lunchmeat and a slice of American cheese on my bread.

“Then, afterwards, Addie and I were going to stop at Midtown Comics,” Jordy furthered.

“Addie?” My mother began. “My daughter, Addison? In a comic book store? I want an eight by ten of that happening.”

“Mom!” I exclaimed with my mouth full of food.

“Your mom is right,” Jordy sympathized as she piled Cheez-it on a napkin, “Addie, comic books just aren’t your thing. It’s not a bad thing or a good thing. It’s just not your thing,”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said as I swallowed my bite of my sandwich. “You didn’t have to say it like that, Mom.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, sweetie,” my mom said as she walked over and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Moving forward, what would you two like for dinner tonight?”

I shrugged and looked over at Jordy, who was extremely apathetic when it came to mediocre decisions like these. I couldn’t expect her to decide on something and I wouldn’t know how to react if she did. “ Surprise us,” I offered.

My mom took that as a way for her culinary creationism to thrive and began looking through cookbooks and online recipes for something to make for dinner. After lunch, we headed back to the mean streets of the city. We couldn’t remember the name of the recording studio where Myra was interning so we had to go based off of memory. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t have been hard since both Jordy and I have good senses of directions but seeing how we couldn’t figure out what direction we were facing, we started off a little rocky. Eventually, we found the place though and went in to start our adventure.

“Hi,” I greeted as I walked up the secretary at the front desk.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

“My friend and I are prospective students for NYU’s music program and since NYU students sometimes receive internships here, I was wondering if perhaps we could get a tour of the building.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous,” she started, “but, unfortunately, I won’t be able to have anyone give you a tour today. They have cut back the guides’ hours for the holiday season. Maybe, perhaps, you could come back after the New Year.”

“Well, we’re not from here,” I began my story. “We’re actually all the way from Dallas and we’re just here through Christmas.”

I could practically hear Jordy snort behind me as she did her best to keep a straight face. Yes, I may have twisted the facts a teeny, tiny bit, but who hasn’t? It’s only necessary to accomplish what needs to get done.

“My friend and I really need to make our decision since the deadline is May 1 but music is such an important part of the decision process for us. Is there any possible way you could make an exception? Any way in the slightest?” I pleaded.

“Here’s what I’ll do,” the secretary started as she began opening drawers, grabbing pens, and pulling papers out of her desk. “I will give you a temporary, visitor pass so you can go look around a little bit. Once you’re done, you can just return this to me. How about that?“

“That would be so lovely. Thank you so much.”

Just like that, Jordy and I were roaming around the halls of Quad Recording Studio. We marveled at the fluorescent blue lighting and modern décor. Aimlessly, we peeked into random rooms and walked down random corridors and pockets. We came across a mahogany door where we could slightly hear a music coming from the inside. We couldn’t quit make it out so we pressed our ears to the door. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite help that much.

I reached for the door handle and attempted to open the door before Jordy swatted my hand away. “Stop it!” She scolded me in a hushed tone. “We don’t know who’s on the other side of the door!”

“Oh, come on, “ I whined. “It’s just a peek. “Most likely, one person in here has his back to the door because he’s observing what’s going on in the sound booth while the person in the sound booth is singing and isn’t in the least bit concerned about us.”

She heaved a heavy sigh and let go of my arm. It wasn’t exactly explicit permission, but it was enough for me to just go ahead and open the door. I cracked the door open slightly so I could hear. Then, I opened it a little bit more so I could actually see through.

“Who’s there?” a male voice said.

I froze out of panic. I didn’t want to make a run for it because I didn’t know whether or not the person would be able to catch me. I definitely did not want to show my face and get in trouble. I did the best thing I could think of in that situation: nothing.

“I can see you, “ the voice tried again. I didn’t move.

“No, really,” the voice started again. I head a few things move around and a door open and shut, but I still could not move. Fear paralyzed me. I shut my eyes and invoked the Hide-And-Go-Seek Strategy.

“Seriously?” I heard. I felt the weight of the door leave my hand. “Just because you can’t see me, it doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”

I opened my eyes and found Nick looking down at me. I don’t know what was worse: the fact that I got caught or the fact that he was the one who caught me. I stood up in my place and tried to speak; I failed miserably. The sight of him was too overwhelming.

“We’re terribly sorry, “ Jordy began. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be out of your hair immediately.” She grabbed me by the elbow and began to lead me away from the door.

“Try a piano intro.” I blurted.
Jordy stopped pulling me. Nick just stared at me. My heart stopped beating.

“You’re looking for a good intro and you keep using a metronome to count yourself in so it sounds like drumsticks,” I tried again. “The problem is that this is a ballad, not a pop/rock song and the drumsticks are too harsh. Try a piano.”

Nick just looked at me. I’m pretty sure Jordy’s gaze was going to burn a hole through my flesh. My heartbeat still hadn’t returned, but Jordy’s grip on my arm had. “Let’s just go,” she reasoned.

Jordy pulled me way essentially as I walked, partially backward at Nick. We weren’t letting go of our stare at each other. He saw me as an alien, a threat perhaps, maybe even something that wasn’t worthy of respect. I saw him, well, I just saw him. I pretty much just stared at him because he stared at me.

Once Jordy and I were outside, I finally got my bearings. She tried to get me to calm down only for her to yell at me about us getting caught. She ranted and called me names from the walk from the recording studio to the comic book store, but I couldn’t really do anything. I was too busy replaying everything that had happened in my head. I guess Jordy realized that I wasn’t listening because then her anger just rose; I bought her two comic books. Friendship fixed.