Temporary Housemate

Chapter One

 "Nothing makes one feel so strong as a call for help."

- Pope Paul VI...

Finally, New York City stood in the distance, awe inspiring and full of possibilities, Brooklyn Bridge a welcoming sight to behold. As the bus shuddered to a halt, I grabbed my few, (but heavy) bags and descended on to the streets. My head ached from travelling such a distance, and after stumbling a few steps I tried to absorb my surroundings.

Tall buildings were in the distance – the richer part of the city – but where I stood, a few houses were scattered around and a few warehouses. I looked for signs of life, but no one else had risen from the bus when I got off, so I wandered a few steps before hearing a commotion somewhere around here. Taking a few slow steps towards the noise, I came face to face with a rundown looking bar called the Yankees! Original huh?

Taking a few steps towards it, I realised the commotion was in fact a fight on the other side of the building, so I quietly slipped towards the building. Sadly this earned me a few hungry looks from the small crowd outside the door where immediately the stench of fresh smoke hit me straight in the face – great. Not to be deterred and already beyond exhausted I simply headed straight through the door and into the grungy place.

Sometimes I regret backpacking, but then I wonder what I would be doing at home in sunny ol’ England – oh that’s right, absolutely nothing! I strolled up to the bar, ignoring (as much as possible) the stains – some looking a particularly sickly brown colour – and waited to be served. I had felt eyes on me when I walked in and had desperately avoided any eye contact at all cost, yet whilst waiting I was comforted with the knowledge that from a few bland glances around no one seemed to have taken much notice of me. I must have blended in slightly what with my black leather jacket, torn jeans and random band t-shirt on.

The clientele in this place seemed to be men and women on the verge of homelessness and prostitution. Yup I was definitely in the right area. The bar tender eventually made his way over to me and I ordered my drink. As he came back I decided he was my best bet.

“Hey, do you know where this place is?" I asked pointing to the area on the map, "I’m renting a room in a street just off there.”

All I really knew was that it was somewhere near Long Island City, but when I say near, its actually an industrial neighbourhood and still a little distance from there.

“Well, it’s not too far from here,” he said whilst passing me my drink, “In fact if you just follow the road outside the doors to the right and take a left at the end, you should be pretty close.”

“Thank you, I thought I would be close, but I'm losing the ability to make sense of anything right now.” I replied smiling genuinely at the prospect of sleep.

“Ah yes, easily done sugar, but be careful walking there – a young girl like you shouldn’t be alone in a neighbourhood like this!” You could definitely tell that he was overprotective in a caveman sort of way – his poor girlfriend.

“I know, my Dad wouldn't be happy either, but it’s what I can afford so I guess I will just have to get used to it! Thanks for the drink.” I said passing him the money. I was thirsty and had drunk my drink in practically one go.

Turning to leave, I tensed suddenly realised I would have to pass that fight again. As if sensing my hesitation, the bar tender asked if I would like him to escort me outside – I was not going to refuse any guidance tonight, I was tired, lonely and still feeling pretty sick from the long ride.

“You sure you don’t mind?” I never forget my manners.

“Of course not. I know this can be a rough area, and tonight is no different.”