Ice To Meet You

Rachel's Story, Part 1

We finish our sushi and the plan is to go right away to interview the troubled lady.

"You want me to go interview her?" I can't just go in and interview a random person alone. I should have experience with it but since we all know I fluffed my way through substance—I have no people interviewing skills.

"You think you can go do it alone?" I can't.

"Of course, I am a tough girl." As tough as a box of kittens.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." No.

"Cool, I thought I might have to do some hand-holding."

"You underestimated me." Lord help me.

"She's in the south of Bronx and you'll be meeting Salvador there. If the article pans out well—you have gotten yourself a barely feasible, will leave you almost broke gig."

I have a feeling this is a test. He is testing me and I will not show him any weakness.

"Who is Gary?"

"Gary is a videographer and photographer. He documents illegal immigrants and tells their story—you know the bullshit that's going on right?" I know Trump is fucking illegal immigrants in the ass—yes but I don't know much more. My subway ride will be spent researching it. I want Gary to think I am woke.

"I do," I am a liar and that is literally the only truth in this conversation.

"He's a bleeding-heart liberal fighting for justice in Trump's era—it is as disappointing and futile as it sounds." He says as a matter of fact shrugging his shoulders. He then dungs the entire piece of avocado sushi in ginger sauce and a few drops of the sauce splatter. He quickly puts the entire sushi in his mouth. A blob of ginger sauce drops from the left side of his lower lip and dribbles down his chin.

I have suddenly lost my appetite.

I shove some mango sushi down my throat to avoid the awkwardness and pull out my phone. There is no text from Hannah—and yes, I did not reply to her earlier message but still—she's my best friend. Shouldn't she be trying harder?

I manage to swallow five pieces of sushi but the anxiety of what is to come is making chest feel heavy. I gulp down some water and wait for the panic to subside—I just feel weird and tired.

"You okay?" Nate is looking at me all puzzled. I don't know what I am feeling but I—I think it's the exhaustion I've felt since the accident taking over again.

"I am great." I lie

"Do you need anything else?"

"No, I am good. I'll just have the rest of the sushi to go please."

He insists on paying but we ultimately end up splitting the bill. I like to pay for myself.

"I'll text you the address and Salvador's number."

"Sounds great. Thank you for the opportunity."

"No—thank you for doing my dirty work, I didn't want to say no to Salvador."

"And you didn't want to say yes either because of the low pay."

"Sums it up," he nods his head in a weird way.

I walk to Starbucks and get myself a Venti Iced Coffee. I close my eyes and suck hard at the straw—the cool coffee giving me the adrenal rush I need to survive today. Lately, my life has become a series of surviving todays.

"One day at a time and then what?" Inner voice asks me and I am not sure if I have an answer for her just yet.

Hunts Point it is then. Itake the E 163 St/Intervale Av bus and ride 5 stops until the bus stops atHalleck Street.