The Face for Main Street

The train doors whooshed open and my heart skipped a bit. My throat went dry, and my stomach started flipping about, but I made sure that the little hand in mine and the boy attached didn’t know how scared I was.

“Andwee…” I heard a tired voice say, and looked down at Jakey, my brother and only living relative. He had blond hair curled up and around his ears, falling into his big brown eyes. I gave him a small smile and tugged his hand forward, clutching the suitcase in my other hand as tightly as I could.

“Come on buddy, we’ll get you to bed in no time.” I hope the smile on my face leaked into my voice as I took a step into the rushing city of New York for the first time. I only had a moment to take in the wide open space that was filled to the brim with late night travelers before I was urged out of the way by the last passengers of the 6:30 Baltimore to New York train. I quickly took a few steps out of the train and off to the side, double checking to make sure I had my suitcase, Jakey had his backpack securely on his shoulders, and that the world had completely fallen out from underneath me.

Breath Andree, you’re going to be ok…remember daddy’s favorite quote, “Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” Maria Robinson is right girl, you have to let go of Maryland and say hello to New York.

Jakey’s hand digging into mine brought me back to the reality in front of me. The new city all full of strangers, the suitcases holding everything I had to my name, and the couple hundred in my wallet. It brought me back to the little boy I had to take care of now that Mom and Dad were dead and gone.

“C’mon Jakey, Joana’s expecting us.” I set my mouth in a firm line and ventured out into the crowd of passengers all trying to find their way home. Bodies pressed against me and I squeezed as tight as I could on his hand. At one point, there was a break in the foot traffic, and I took advantage of it and picked up him up.

It was a long ride home, or so it felt. I couldn’t even stare in awe at the looming skyscrapers and jam packed streets. I spent it trying not to freak out, and trying to keep Jakey from eating the gum that was stuck on under the cab’s cheesy plastic interior. I was a girl from a less than 1,000 town in one of the biggest, most well-known cities in America. I felt like a captive born lioness tossed into Africa, only without the deadly strength and speed.

“Here ye are.” The cab driver said with a gruff voice and a hand stuck out for the fare.

“Uhm right…yeah…this should be enough to cover…” I managed to mumble out, the voice of a tired young adult slipping through my dry lips. Sleep hadn’t been there on the train, waiting to carry me away into a dreamland. I was too worried that Jakey would get kidnapped, or hurt, or in trouble to even think about shutting my eyes.

I shoved the money towards him, grabbed our crap and carried a half-asleep little blonde boy into the 6-story, slightly crumbling, brick building. It was typical of the area, and I’d seen quite a few like it when I had looked out to see if I could catch my bearings-I couldn’t, but it was worth a try.

The only thing that distinguished this old house of homes from its brick brothers was the wooden sign next to the front buzz-in gate that read “J&G’s” and all the garden boxes of flowers. It was late November, so most weren't in bloom. The gate and front door opened before I reached the three steps leading to them, a slight prickle of fear stinging the back of my neck. I’d seen too many horror movies, and the lack of light and stuttering street lamps weren't helping my already off the wall nerves.

“I suppose you're Andree Brown?” A deep voice called out from the hallway. It wasn’t like the cab driver’s voice which could be likened to a cup of day old black coffee at a gas station. This was more of a cup of straight from the source of an exotic coffee bean plant served at a European mansion tea party.

“You can call me Andy, if you like.” I managed to get out, hoping he was just a nice old man who used to do theatre and has a dramatic flair.

“I will call you Ms. Brown, and you will address me as Mr. Conway.” He took a step out onto the cracked concrete steps I had yet to reach, and into the light. He wasn’t a harmless looking old man reliving his glory days of acting, though I truly couldn’t know either for sure, but I had a feeling. He was tall, over six feet just by a glance, with a neatly combed set of white hair atop his squared head. He had an equally trimmed and placed mustache that sprouted beneath an impressive and straight nose. It was the centre of his face, just below two evenly spaced brown eyes.

I took a breath to say something, anything, but I didn’t have the chance to. He cut me off with a glance. I never knew how hard brown eyes could look, like a polished wooden floor. Shiny and slick, but still hard as hell when you fell on it. And I fell on this Mr. Conway man, in a purely metaphorical way. I somehow managed to stay where I was and not shake. A double accomplishment in my opinion.

“Dear, are you harassing the tenants again? You know they won’t stick around if you keep threatening them with that theatre act you’re so fond of.” Mr. Conway let out a deep chuckle that slowly worked its way up from his throat, to the smile on his face, and finally a softness in his eyes. Melted almost, from a cool, unbending wood to soft, warm chocolate.
The other voice, a light and fluffy one, showed her face, She looked like a grandmother who belonged on a box of cookies, or one who got eaten by a Big Bad Wolf. Not holding a box a rat poison and a hack saw.

I could tell already that New York was going to be a bloody effing blast