TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

8: Irony at Its Finest

Lucia knew she'd made a mistake. Correction: was making a mistake. Several, in fact. She was pretty sure she'd passed the same pizza place at least three times in her endeavour to relocate the underground - the smell of melted cheese when you were within a fifty metre radius of the shop was more than enough to render it a landmark.

Lucia stopped in the middle of the street, attempting to familiarise herself the her surroundings. This, too, was a mistake. Disgruntled pedestrians swerved their way around her, streaming either side of the diversion she'd created with mumbles of watch where you're going and several other slightly less savoury comments.

She scurried across the sidewalk to the nearest building, pressing her back against the rough brick and breathing heavily. This wasn't at all how she'd imagined her celebratory tour of Mid Manhattan. She'd envisioned strolling through parks, joining the flurry of pedestrians in Times Square, marvelling at shops and skyscrapers and churches. She'd envisioned sitting at a stool in a diner with a milkshake, or maybe window-shopping for clothes, jewellery, shoes that she wouldn't even be able to consider buying. She'd envisioned taking a taxi ride. Just a small one - she knew they were fairly steep, but she wanted the experience. Wanted to be able to say, yes! I've been there! I've done that!

But here she was, pressed up against a wall in the middle of God knows where, not having done this and most certainly not having done that. The air was thick with gas fumes, stuffy, suffocating despite the miles of open air above her.

For once, she wished she'd listened. Listened, when her mother said, don't travel alone! Plan your route! Make sure your phone is charged!

She'd shrugged these things off, annoyed that her mother still had so much input, so much control over her. Even now.

Firstly, who would even go to the library with her? It's not like she knew anyone anyway (Timothée not included, although she certainly couldn't class him as a stranger. There was a sort of cloud around Timothée. A haze. A grey area in which he hovered).

And her route had been planned, granted, at the last minute, and not by her. It sat in Lu's pocket, and she traced the outline of the paper with her finger absently, glancing around.

And her phone was at least halfway charged when she'd left the apartment this morning. She thought she'd plugged in her charger before flopping down into her pillow last night, but that particular hour before bed was a groggy blur, and when she'd woken up this morning, the battery icon at the top of the screen was an insolent orange.

But now, she wished she'd been more focused when Timothée was explaining the route. Wished she'd paid more attention. Asked him a bit more about the public transport in this city, or where the nearest subway stop was to the apartment, or...

She wished she'd asked him to accompany her, asked him to come along, but fuck. She had been so adamant, had mistaken ignorance for bravery, and-

She couldn't have done that, asked him, anyway. She wouldn't have been able to, even if she'd thought of it at the time. Wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye and ask so plainly for something so generous.

So now here she was, without a companion, amongst the screeching of tyres and raised voices and car horns. Devoid of means by which she could get home, and her phone was almost dead - she'd worn it out taking so many picures. She swore under her breath as a notification blocked the rest of her screen. Battery low. She switched it off, tucking the phone into the pocket of her trousers.

She'd planned on just following Timothée's instructions in reverse order, only she didn't know where the library was now. She didn't know where anything was now, and it took all of Lu's willpower not to slump against the wall and allow her face to crumple.