Chapter Forty-One

I have no idea what to wear.

            Actually, let me rephrase that. I have no idea where I’m going. I have no idea what kind of place this is going to be. I have no idea what to bring. I have no idea who will be there. And on top of all that, I have no idea what to wear. Tragic first world problems, I know.

            In the end and after countless times of talking myself back in and out of this plan, I decide to be casual and put on black shorts and an airy, white button up. The weather outside is warm and sticky as Mark rolls into my driveway. I stand from the front porch steps and walk over to him. I didn’t know if I should’ve let him in or just waited outside. So I just waited outside.

            Why are you overthinking this? It’s just dinner, a voice inside me yells.

            A quieter voice speaks the truth. Because you’re thinking of him.

            But I’m not doing anything bad. Right? Lee and I had no direction. We are—were in love but so what? Tons of people fall in and out of love daily. If love was enough in this world, there would be no wars or evil. But life sucks and I’ll just have to freaking deal with it. I ignore the tiny pinch my heart feels as I push thoughts of him away. But…

        What is he doing right now? Business meeting? Eating alone? Drinking…?

        I shake these thoughts away, once again. I shouldn’t guilt myself back to him. I shouldn’t go back to him, period. A part of me just wants to let it all go and just be with him because I love him. But where is the reality in that? People expect him to get married to Penny. She’s one of his closest friends. Hell, she saved his life. If it wasn’t for her after his father’s death, I would never have gotten to meet the man he is today. Now, he’s going to save hers. I love him enough to let him go. I’ve never understood such a stupid phrase but I do now.

        I’m not going to be an obstacle. Feelings are feelings. There are bigger things in life.

        “Uh, Ivory? Hello? Earth to Ivory? Jupiter to Ivory?”

        Mark’s waving his fingers in front of my face and I suddenly bring myself back to the present.  

            “Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking and realized how everything is changing and that I’m nervous for, well, everything in life,” I say. Technically, I’m not lying. But I’m definitely not going to tell Mark who I’m thinking of.

            He walks me to the passenger side of his car. “Don’t be. It’s not that bad.”

            “Of course, it’s easy for you to say.” I glare.

            Mark’s eyebrows press together like I’ve hurt him. Nice one, Ivory. First five minutes and you can’t even keep from blurting out things. He walks over to his side after shutting the passenger door for me. With one hand, he starts the car and the other is on the steering wheel.

            “I’m sorry,” I apologize, playing with my fingers on my lap. “I just—I can’t seem to think before I speak. I didn’t mean to just judge you.”

        He shrugs but I know he’s still thinking about it. “It’s no biggie. I like that about you...but I just hate when people assume things.”

        I look out into the window as he drives. What do I say?

        “Teach me then,” I tell him before my brain can catch up. Once again, I am blurting things.

        His eyes quickly look over at me before turning back to the road. “What?”

        “As you can see, I’m very quick to judge and I want to change that. There’s a saying or something I read once. It’s natural instinct for a human being in our society and age to judge. But it’s the second thing that comes to mind that matters. If a person sees someone and judges them and then scolds themselves for doing it and tries to change their perspective, that’s what matters. Nobody’s perfect and everyone is a bit ignorant. It’s not anyone’s fault they are. But I want to learn about you and why my judgement was wrong,” I explain in one big breath. My nose inhales and I relax a little. “So teach me about yourself.”

        For a moment, he’s silent. He switches hands on the steering wheel and takes a right turn. And then he sighs and says, “You’re really something, Ivory.”

        I laugh, partly relieved he’s not upset anymore. “Love me, hate me, but you wish you were me!”

        He turns his signal on and takes a turn to the highway. “So you want to know about the Marvelous Mark, huh?”

        “Yes, definitely.”

        “Well, first,” he says, reaching over to the sound system. He turns on the radio and loud thumps vibrate through the speakers before a rap comes on. “I’m really gangster and listen solely to rap music on weekdays.” He bobs his head back and forth.

        I roll my eyes. “Oh, so you’re one of those guys.”

        He playfully turns and glares.

        “Right, not judging….”  

        “In fact, if you really want to change and not judge, follow what I do,” he says. He looks me in the eyes and nods and then he starts bobbing his head up and down to the beat of the rap.

        “This is a driving hazard! Eyes on the road!” I tell him. “You’re the reason why grandmas are afraid to be on the road these days!”

        “I’m afraid of grandmas! Now, do it!”

        “No!”

        “Do it!”

        “Fine!” And then I’m crazy laughing and following his actions, flipping my hair all around as I shake my head and throw in some original dance moves as well.

        He has his eyes back on the road and watches me every chance he gets. A grin slips onto his face as he accelerates the car. “It’s so good to see you just relaxing and letting go for once. You’ve got way too much stress for a nineteen year old.”

        “You’re taking me out to get me to laugh and let go? We could’ve just done this at home on my really comfortable couch. So much work to have fun.” I fix my hair, running my hands through it.

        “No, going outside is healthier. I’m sure it’s scientifically proven somewhere.”

        “Hey, don’t change the subject. Tell me about yourself,” I demand. As we speed through, the sun is sinking lower and lower, creating an orange glow in the sky. With all the headlights shining on the highway, it’s kind of beautiful. I must be losing it if I find traffic beautiful.

        “Well, unlike your previous thoughts, it’s not ‘easy’ for me all the time,” Mark says. He rests back in his seat, one hand gently on the steering wheel. It’s only then I realize he’s changed his outfit from before. A jeans shirt and dark pants. He’s wearing maroon vans and I look down at my own shoes. They’re the fake knock off vans Lee and I bought that time we desperately ran away from Brent. I didn’t even realize I had slipped them on.

        My heart squeezes unexpectedly. I hate this feeling. It hits me out of nowhere.

        “Yeah?” I urge, my voice softer. My throat begins to feel like it’s swelling. Don’t think about him. Don’t. Don’t. Instead, I look at Mark and the bracelet he’s wearing. It looks like yarn braided together thoughtfully. I wonder where he got it from. I focus solely on that.

        “I’ve had to work for everything I have,” he continues. My eyes follow back to his face as he speaks, his eyes trained on watching the road. “I know that sounds lame, like I’m trying to make excuses and stuff, but it’s true. My parents—my whole family is religiously all about hard work. From birth, they wanted me to be the best, but from my own choices and efforts. I went to public school. I studied hard. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make my father proud.

        “In high school, I tried working at the company. I had to go in for an interview and turn in my resume just like everyone else. I got rejected. Freshmen year of college I tried again. I got rejected. Instead, I got accepted as an intern. Nobody knew my actual name. I had to start from the bottom of the company. It was rough. I was the twig intern. Everyone ordered me around—it was hell. But it paid off because when I applied again sophomore year, I got accepted. Lee and I dropped out around the same time in college. His situation, however, was different from mine….”

        Lee. Why is it that I can’t escape him? How do I always end up back to talking or thinking about him? I’m reminded of when we talked about his father’s death and its effect on him. I pray he’s not going back into his bad habits because of me. He probably isn’t. Breaking up with me is not the equivalent of his father’s death. How can I think so highly of our relationship? I would never compare losing my mother to a coma as painful as breaking up with Lee.

        I repeat my mantra. There are bigger things in life. Let him go.

        “It seems like you miss him,” I say, watching the rise and fall of his steady breath. More like I miss him, but Mark is different too after talking about him. His eyes are sad, the crinkles that are usually there when he’s smiling disappearing.

        “I guess I do,” he mumbles. He puts both hands on the steering wheel, slowly easing the car off into the busy streets of New York. The car ride has gone by quick.

        “Does he know that?”

        “He doesn’t need to. Our friendship was a mess.”

            “Everything’s a mess. Life’s a mess. Why not just add that on too?”

            Mark laughs but it’s hollow. “It’s complicated between him and I.”

            “Same here,” I say and we both laugh.

            After twenty more minutes, we find parking. Mark uses his tricks into finding spots like being super rich and having connections but like I’m practicing, I’m not going to judge. He rushes over to open my door when I’m about to get out.

            “Thank you,” I say and step out. The sky is a dark canvas, stars impossible to see. One thing I love is the noise. It feels like you’re never alone in this city. I look around at the apartment buildings near. We seem to be in or near Brooklyn since I don’t see towering skyscrapers. “So, where is this place you want to go?”

            He locks his car before grabbing my hand. “I’ll take you but we have to hurry. It’s almost eight and that’s when it’s most impossible to find seats. When I was in college, I usually went around midnight after a long day to catch up on classwork.”

            I try to match his quick pace as he tugs me along. Running isn’t enough to catch up to him. “Midnight?” I ask. “It’s open that late?”

            Mark nods. “Until 2AM, usually. It’s a strange place but it’s because they open late in the morning and it’s a popular place with college kids. It’s like everybody’s secret garden. You kind of have to find it.”

            I squint at him, swiftly walking. “It sounds like you’re in some suspicious club.”

            A laugh escapes him as we round the corner to a busy part of the borough, people walking around everywhere. There’s distant music as I see some flashing lights for some clubs.  “Maybe I am.”

        “Seems legi—” I don’t get to finish my sentence.

        “Marcus Welch! Is that your new lover?”

        “Hey guys, it’s Mark!”

        “Forget following that wannabe actor! We got real dirt over here!”

        It happens so fast but we’re suddenly swept up in a sea of photographers. Where did they come from? How did they recognize him so fast? Questions race through my head and I can barely see because every time one camera goes off, another flashes. I bring my other hand to cover my face as if the sun is blinding me.

        “Crap.” Mark’s hand tightens around mine once before he lets go, moving his hand to the small of my back, gently pushing me through. “Cover your face, just follow my lead.”

        I follow him, looking down but pushing through like a bull. Mark feels tense next to me, his jaw tight. I step on some photographers’ feet but they deserve it. Does Mark go through this every time he walks outside? He’s just some business kid guy—why is he so popular with the media?  

        “Mark! How does it feel now that your daddy is thinking of handing the business to you?”

        “Who’s the girl, Mark?”

        “You gonna hit us?”

        I find a piece of Mark’s shirt and hold on tight as we try to move but it’s like they’re magnets, following our every step. I lean in closer to Mark. “Let’s just keep going. Ignore them.”

        “How does it feel having the world handed to you, Mark?”

        “What? No smile tonight?”

        “Spoiled brat!”

        I feel Mark’s hand tightening on my back and see him biting his lip, fighting to speak. If he does, he’ll only ruin it for himself. There’s no way out.

        “Is she your lady of the night?”

        His hand disappears from my back and then he’s lunging forward to whoever said that. He doesn’t throw a punch but grabs the short guy’s camera. Mark drops it and then with all his might, kicks it across the street where it rolls off a car and then gets crushed by oncoming traffic. There is a blanket of silence. Everyone remains still, eyes wide. That is going to be on the morning news for the whole week.

        “What?” Mark challenges. “No smile tonight?”

        Without giving me a warning while everyone is shocked, including me, he takes my hand once again and begins to run. He takes an immediate right turn to the next street where people are exiting a busy restaurant. We get lost in the crowd but his hand never loses mine. Once we get through, he runs straight through and takes a sharp left through an alleyway. It looks sketchy but we race through it until we’re on another semi-crowded street. Another alleyway again. Except this time, he enters through a random door in the alleyway.

        “Mark—” I start to tell him that we can’t just enter a random place but once we’re inside, I realize we’re exactly where we need to be.

        We’ve entered through the kitchen backdoor and the delicious smells of food around us make me stop mid-sentence. People are bustling around stirring pots, carrying plates. Nobody seems to see us. Mark waves at a few people before pulling me sneakily through a silver door with a circular glass window.

        It’s the most cliche place I’ve ever seen and I love it.

        The floors are checkered, black and white. Seats are made of thick red leather and the walls are a light blue. People fill the booths and they all look young except for the occasional family or single adult lingering by. It looks like there’s no open seating.There are not many windows and the ones that are in here only show an empty street with bright lights. It looks like we’ve jumped into the movie Grease.Where are we?

        “This is my favorite restaurant in the whole world,” Mark announces, waving his hand around to the scene. There’s so much laughter and loud voices. It’s simply crazy.

        “I love diners,” I say, looking at the waiters and waitresses in red and white striped aprons. “Especially really cliche ones that mimic the 50’s.”

        He looks over and me and one side of his mouth slips into a smirk. “I thought you might.” Mark takes my hand again. “But this isn’t the best part. Follow me.”

        I nod even though it’s not like I have any other choice. He walks back through the door with the glass circle window and through the kitchen where some people finally recognize him—not for his media appearances but as if they are old friends—before he spins me along to a dark staircase. It’s small and cramped and spirals many times but I follow him.

        We stop before a door. It’s dull and made of a faded blue. He looks at me, a big grin on his face. “Close your eyes, Ivory Flores, because I am about to give you the world.”

        I make a face but do it anyways. “I swear if you let me fall off anything, I’ll come back from the dead and haunt you.”   

        He places one hand over my eyes just in case I peek and one on the small of my back, gently pushing me along. I hear a loud thud as he kicks over the door and a blast of heat sprawls across my body before it latches onto me. I feel myself beginning to sweat.

        “Are we walking into a human sized oven?” I joke.

        We’re walking as I cautiously step slowly while he ushers me along. It smells like musty cement and hot dogs. “No,” he answers, laughing a little. His hand on my back pushes me a little farther. “One more step,” he murmurs. And then his hand slips away from both my eyes and body and he says, “Open them.”

        At first, my vision is blurry and I’m blinded a little by a bright light. But then my mouth falls open and I can’t believe how beautiful the sight is. Before me stands New York City. We seem to be on the roof of the building and though parts of the Manhattan skyline are covered by other buildings since the one we’re on isn’t so tall, it’s still breathtaking.

        It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. Something tickles me at the back of my mind but I push it away. The dark night is a lighter color near the skyline as if the buildings are tiny flashlights in dark. It’s like this glow in the dark city. I can’t describe how beautiful it looks. These concrete buildings and the millions of people and the cars polluting all over yet it’s just beautiful. In its own manmade way, New York City is gorgeous. I've never been so close.

        “Wow,” I breathe and I wish there was another word in the world that wasn’t ‘wow’ that could describe what I’m feeling but there’s not. I press my hands to the cold ledge and it gives me the a punch that this is real. There’s something familiar about this whole ordeal but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Nor do I want to.

        “That’s exactly what I said the first time I saw it,” he says, standing by me until we are nearly touching. “I’ve lived in this city all my life and you don’t realize how beautiful or lucky you are to be in it until you see it from another view.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave this dream city. Sometimes you hate it but you just can’t get enough.”

        I frown. I’ve never felt anything like that. I’ve never had dreams.

        He steps away from the ledge and I hear the scraping of metal. I turn around and see him pulling two chairs next to me and eventually a table. The table is worn out but he puts a pink tablecloth over it and reaches into his pant pocket to pull out a small, travel size candle along with some matches.

        “The things guys carry in their pockets…,” I mutter, walking over to the table and sitting. “But thank you for this. This is exactly what I need these days.”

        He places himself across from me and grins. “No problem. I already asked Johnny to make my usual and I’m sure you’ll like it too.”

        “Perfect,” I say, smiling. Humid air blows by us as the wind picks up a little speed. My hair flies over my face. I lean in and put my elbow on the table, resting my head on my hand. I turn to glance at the view again and sigh. I wonder what people living in the tallest buildings are doing. Or the people at work. Or the people out and having a good night. Or Lee.

        Instantly, I jolt.

        No.

        Mark gives me a strange look. “You okay?”

        Blinking rapidly, I nod. I look back to the city and think of other things. I wonder how much the measurements are for these buildings. Do they all look so beautiful at night? How can concrete look so nice? It almost looks as beautiful from Lee’s suite when he pinned me against—No!

        “Ugh!” I say, slapping my hands on my thighs. I need to snap out of it! Even though now it is occurring to me that this situation reminds me of that time we ran away and we watched the night grow with the taste of cake and wine on our lips and that necklace he gave me. I look down at my chest. I haven’t taken it off and I still don’t have the courage to. It’s like if I do, we’re officially over. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I should be but I’m not.

        “Okay, Ivory…you’re freaking me out. Does the city make you angry or something?”

        I look up and almost forget Mark is sitting across from me. It’s insanely cruel of me to not give my all to this friend that’s tried so hard to make me feel better. In a way, he’s so similar to Lee. They're both reckless drivers and have anger issues with people. They both love the city and rooftop views, except Lee likes to be in the middle of nowhere to see it and Mark likes to be in the center. It's as if they're brothers.

        “Sorry, sorry. I was thinking about how I forgot to feed my cat. So clumsy of me, ha-ha,” I say, shrugging in a what-can-you-do way. This excuse is getting old and it’s very transparent. I need to update my lying techniques.

        “Oh...okay...weirdo,” he says.

        I glare at him. “Markus!”

        “Kidding,” he replies, grinning. He looks over just as the door to the roof flings open. “Our food’s here, yay!”

        A middle aged man who’s balding carries trays of food in his hand. How does he do it? I don’t know. But he has to be carrying at least four as he saunters over to us in a calm manner and a grin placed on his face. Behind him, a woman around his age appears. She has orange hair and has a pitcher of what seems to look like ice cold lemonade. My mouth waters with the sight of the cold drink and the smell of the Italian sauce lingering in the air.

        “Johnny, my man! You never disappoint,” Mark yells as Johnny sets the plates down. Both of us get served a plate of pasta in a meaty sauce with some green herbs atop of it. Another plate has salad with tomatoes and and egg in the middle. The last plate holds specifically cut slices of bread with an oil glazed over it slightly. “Susan,” Mark croons as the lady fills our glasses with lemonade. “Looking beautiful as ever.

        Johnny takes the towel hanging around his neck and whacks Mark with it. “Hey!” he says. “Don’t hit on my wife, ya’ schmuck!” He has an accent but it sounds like it’s from Boston.

        “Hold it right there, honey,” Susan says, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder and one on her jutted hip. “Ya never give me compliments anyways. I might just run away with Mark.” She pronounces Mark as “Mah-k”.

        “Oh honey,” Johnny says, wrapping an arm around his wife. “If you left, it would be the death of me,” he dramatically tells her.

        “Good,” she replies but pecks her husband on the lips.

        “Ew, gross! Get a room!” Mark yells, covering his eyes. “Ya making me blind!” he says, mimicking their accents.  

        Johnny laughs wholeheartedly and it reminds me of Santa’s ho-ho-ho for some reason. “Alright, you two kids have fun. We’ll be downstairs. Shout if you need anything.” He looks over to me and whispers purposely loud, “Run while ya can!”

        “Hey!” Mark interrupts.

        Susan cackles as her husband makes a surprised face and begins to run away. She joins him as they playfully run away from Mark’s wrath. The door swings shut behind them.

        I smile before turning back to Mark. “They’re funny people.”

        He laughs, picking up his fork and knife. “Yeah, they kept me sane throughout college.”

        “Yeah? College that bad? You’re making me nervous,” I reply, grabbing my own utensils and forking a piece of pasta to my mouth. I almost cry at its taste. I haven’t had a nicely cooked good meal in a while. It makes me miss my mother’s pasta. But it makes me happier as I remember how she held my hand back today. I can’t wait for the test results to come out (for once in my life).

        “Not really, I’m exaggerating. It’s pretty cool. You meet a nice lot of people and you’re in this new environment. You figure yourself out. It’s a real adventure,” he explains. Taking a piece of bread, he rips it into two before dipping it in his pasta’s sauce and biting it.

        I reach for the salad and take some. “I hope so. I’ve never really belonged anywhere….”

        “Really? No secret hidden talent? Your mom’s an artist, right?”

        Nodding, I frown. “I didn’t inherit her skills though and apparently I didn’t inherit anything from my father either since I can’t do anything.” Thinking of my father reminds me of Madam Jin’s crazy assumptions. It’s strange to not hear from a while. I hope all is well. “I’ve kind of just been in limbo. In high school, I just went from thing to thing but nothing called out to me. Nothing ever does. I’m kind of scared I’ll be like this forever.”

        Mark takes a slice of bread again but this time places it on my plate. “Hey, don’t worry. Everyone reaches that stage. Some people go through it longer and some people don’t. You’ll eventually find what you like or what you’re good at. In the meantime, just enjoy life. It’s all you can do.”

        I chew the amazing bread. It has olive oil drenched on it. “Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll just call you whenever I’m confused about life, Mr. Know It All.”

        He chuckles. “I’m glad to help.”

        For the rest of the night, we just talk. It’s nice and it’s simple and it’s exactly what I need to keep my mind of the billions of things I usually worry about. The weather doesn’t give us a break and continues being insanely hot but it’s summer and I’m happy, for the most part. After a slice of chocolate cake, we get up, thank Johnny and Susan, I pay for the bill, and we leave. I fall asleep on the drive back since I’m so full and content.

        Mark nudges my shoulder gently when we arrive to my place. “Hey, you’re home.”

        We both step outside and I walk over to the sidewalk where Mark stands.

        “Thanks for such a great night. Sorry about the paparazzi,” I tell him.

        He shrugs his shoulders. “It happens all the time. And thank you for the lovely penguin suit this morning and free ice cream. I guess we’re even now. But I’ll pay you back for this dinner one day with a dinner of my own next time.”

            “Then we wouldn’t be even, doofus,” I say, rolling my eyes.

            He rolls his eyes mockingly and scoffs. “Whatever,” he says, mirroring my voice.

            “Good one,” I deadpan. A yawn escapes me as I stretch my arms. It hits me then on how I am supposed to say goodbye. A wave? A handshake? A hug?

            “Seems like you need to go sleep,” Mark says, grinning. I can barely see his face since the streetlight on the street’s been dying recently. He opens his arms wide. “Night, Ivory.”

            No other choice, I walk into them and pat his back as I hug him. “Night, Marvelous Mark. Thanks for a fun day.”

            He leaves after that, skipping any awkwardness. We really are back to normal. I’m smiling as I walk towards my front porch. Everything’s falling into place again. Mom is gaining consciousness. Madam Jin has stopped bothering me with the whole “you’re my daughter-in-law” thing. High school is over and college is coming. I’m going to be living in New York City soon. Mark and I are buddies again.

            It’s all good.

            I look up right before I climb the steps but realize there’s someone there. My first instinct is to scream because well, this person is obviously here to kill me, but when he stands up into the dim lighting of the streetlight, my heart calms and then races again. His blue eyes shining fiercely and a wrinkle between his eyebrows, Lee is standing in front of me, looking upset.

            The smile slips off my face. It is not all good.

i finally updated! i hate how i seem to update monthly but ugh it just happens. one weekend, i'll put it off thinking i'll have time during the week. another, i'll have work. another, i'll have friends who wanna go out. another, i won't even get out of bed. it's honestly a horrible cycle. sorry to keep you guys waiting! you have been so lovely by even sending this story back to #1 in teen fiction. means a lot to me! xx

question of the day for all the lovely people who actually read my author's notes: 1) where are you from? what country or city?  and 2) tell me a story. something that happened once in your life you can't forget. (funny, sad, angry, mad, falling in love, embarrassing--anything!) your identity is a secret on here, so go wild!

i have work tomorrow, or today really, so yay! it's boring sometimes but when u see da cash u kno it doesn't matter <3 <3 <3 :) #golddigger

nothing else has really happened. i went biking today and it was really peaceful and also really sweaty but i'm glad spring is waking up! the term just ended and i had decent grades. new start. last term of the year before summer.

LIFE IS GOOD, BE HAPPY, BE KIND xoxo

3) i bought a random huge mug for no reason. have you ever done something crazy for no reason? do you regret it?