Epiphany: A quest for love

9. Miss Americana

Mirae

Alex's idea of showing me around New York was different from what I had in mind. I don't know why, but I was expecting him to do something very touristic and mainstream. Eating hot-dogs from the street vendors and wandering lazily around the streets while he explained the architecture and history of old buildings I haven't anticipated. As an architect, this man is a walking encyclopedia, and I couldn't have chosen a better person to show me around. Between each bite he'd take from his snack, Alex would sneak in an interesting fact about the buildings we were passing by, like architecture style or what people used to live there or previous purpose of the space.

In the end, that's what I wanted to discover. I am not a tourist, I am here to stay, to grow roots and I desperately needed to know a piece of this city, something, anything, to give me a connection. Alex somehow sensed that and provided me what I was seeking. He spilled this beautiful city's secrets to me, letting me harvest my own answers. But above all else, he understood one essential thing: a place, no matter how impressive it can be, is nothing without people. You cannot cure homesickness with concrete. It's the people we meet, the friends we make along the way. Those who make our stay enjoyable and our life bearable. Which I suppose it's why I am now in Brooklyn with a man I only saw twice in my life, instead of chilling on the couch in my own apartment, doing nothing and feeling miserable.

"Remind me again what are we doing here?" I ask as I am staring at the old set of concrete stairs leading to a three-floored building. It's already dark outside, but the coppery red of the building is shining slightly in the light coming from the lampposts. A big tree raises proud at the edge of the sidewalk, blocking my vision to the upper levels, but through the leaves that will soon start to fall, I can see lights at the windows.

"We are here to join a party. I already told you that" he says, then he types something really quickly on his phone, before putting it back in his pocket.

"Yes, but what kind of party? I don't think I am even properly dressed, Alex..." I complain as the thought crosses my mind. I am wearing the same clothes I wore to work today and while it's not a bad outfit, I'm convinced it's not appropriate for a party. Whatever that might be.

"You are looking great. Come!" He grabs my hand and starts heading towards the stairs, half dragging me after him in excitement. I follow him, not knowing what to expect. The door opens with a click exactly when we reach the final step.

"A close friend of mine lives in this building," he starts explaining as he opens the door and holds it for me, "and it is a small birthday party. Nothing fancy, don't worry, just a few drinks in between friends" he finishes.

Birthday? Do we even have a present? He should've told me before we arrived here, now I feel bad showing up empty handed. Especially since I wasn't invited. Alex has been cryptic about this whole party thing. I was honestly expecting some pub drinking night, not a birthday party at one of his friends' houses. Maybe the reason why he didn't give many details is precisely this: to not panic or feel out of place. Which I'm pretty sure I'll feel. Instead of running my mouth about all the things going through my head right now, I try a joke.

"I'm not going to get murdered or sold for organs, right?" but the nervousness is present in my voice.

"Now that you mention it..." Alex starts, but bursts into laughter a second later. I follow him on the corridor and another set of stairs, taking in the old walls and the simple door of the apartment we're about to enter.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, and I find myself staring into his gray eyes again. I hold his gaze for a few seconds then nod. Getting the confirmation he needed, he opens the apartment door and the sound of music crashes into me. It is a song that I recognize from the radio, but I cannot identify the singer. Alex walks in first, his hand still gripping mine, and steps aside, allowing me to take in the view. It's a big apartment, much bigger than mine, with walls covered in bricks and a modern industrial accent. The iron predominates, from the lightbulbs and the bookshelves resting against the walls, to the inner stairs which lead to another level. The ceiling is huge, so I believe the person living here decided to use the height to their advantage, by installing a floating room above. There is a big leather couch in the middle, with matching chairs, all filled with people chilling, engaged in conversations. Alex was obviously wrong because this isn't a small party, I can already count more than 20 people in this room, without the ones smoking outside on what seems to be a terrace.