Rum Cider

9

My hand banged on the front door of Nancy's apartment. After she didn't answer for about the 50th time, I began continuously knocking on the door. That, at least, managed to get her attention, as she pulled the door open and hit me in the chest. "Will you cut the gas already!"

"Sorry," I pushed my way into her apartment, with her muttering protests under her breath. "but we really need to get going,"

"Why?"

"Well, the producer gave me a bell, and we need to come in today for a production meeting," I sat down at one of her table places. "Go get dressed, quickly."

Nancy rolled her eyes, and stomped off into her bedroom. After several minutes of waiting for her, she walked out dressed in a very basic set of clothes. She was wearing the same shoes she'd worn the other times we'd met up together, as well as a sweater and a normal skirt. She'd at least managed to brush her hair, but looked a mess compared to the times Eileen has dolled her up.

"You couldn't put a little more effort in?" I inquired, "We're going to meet the director."

She rolled her eyes at me, and began walking to the door. "There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed, and if you're so concerned about being late, you really shouldn't be complaining about that."

With a sigh, I stood and followed her from the apartment. She locked her door, and we exited, walking down to the streets. Even though it was relatively early, the streets were buzzing with people. I turned back to look up at her apartment building, situated on a street corner. Nancy had kept walking forward, but returned to my side when I called out to her. "Nancy-Anne,"

"What?" She snapped, rubbing one of her eyes.

"Tell me," I continued, "how does a young woman barely over the age of twenty afford an apartment in such a nice building as this one?"

"Are you writing a book?" She turned herself around, hands on her hips.

"No,"

"Then let's leave. We need to catch the trolley if you still want to get there on time," She threw that over her shoulder at me as she walked down the road to the trolley stop.

Once we reached to stop, she closed her eyes, as if she was trying to sleep standing up. Nancy refused to speak to me as we waited, forcing me to focus on watching people. It wasn't the most interesting past time. After several minutes of nothing but silence between the two of us, the trolley pulled up, and Nancy dashed abroad, handing 17 cents to the driver, who handed her a trolley ticket. I followed her lead, and went towards the back of the trolley with her.

"Tell me, what exactly are these tickets used for?" She looked at me with an incredulous look, straightening up from the window, which she'd been leaning upon.

"Have you ever ridden one of these before?"

"Nope," Nancy let out a heavy sigh and continued to look out the window.

"You use these as a pass. It's a two way ticked that you can use to go to a place and return to your starting destination. It's really not that complicated. Are you from the country or something?"

"Now who's writing a book?"