A Perfect Summer's Day by anupamarc

The basket outside the glass window is bursting with yellows, purples and reds. The Petunias intertwine with the marigolds and sit snug under the lavender. It's a treat to the eye and I sigh before I gaze back at the interiors of the cafe.

After weeks of rainy, grey days, the sun has peered out finally. A perfect summer day. Another job interview, another fail added to my wonderful list of experiences and here I am sitting in a cafe, once again, clueless how I will pay next month's bills. Someone said New York is the land of opportunities. Only if you manage to get hold of one. I twist my mouth and blow a large breath, my fringe blows and falls back above my eyes.

"Damn them. They can keep all their jobs up their..." I mutter to myself.

When I look up, there's a hint of a smile. He is looking straight at me. Is he laughing at me? After a few moments, I slowly return my gaze to him and yet once again there it is. A smile at the corner of his lips as he sips his coffee. So incredibly rude with his smug grin.

I finish my coffee, tug my blue chequered dress lower to my knees and stroll over to him.

"You have a problem, mister," My voice sounds shrill and completely out of control. Keep your cool, June.

"Excuse me?" he asks as if he wasn't sneering at me just now.

"I saw you smirk at me. Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Many people say I smile a lot." He isn't looking at me anymore when he talks which is strange after his sneering.

"That wasn't a smile. You were clearly laughing at me. Listen, I have had a really bad day and I don't need more from you. Can you not be so rude, please? At least have the decency to apologize."

"I would apologize if I knew what crime I committed."

"So you weren't looking at me and smiling to yourself on what a loser I am. You heard me grumble, right?"

He removes the earplug from his left ear. "Sorry, I was listening to a song. What were you saying?"

"Oh, sorry. I must've..." I tug at my dress not knowing what to say. I totally read this dude wrong. 

When I turn away he says, "I did hear you mutter something about how miserable you are."

"Ah," I fold my arms. "So you did hear me after all? You think it's funny to laugh at someone."

"Once again, I didn't laugh at you for that. But anyway, what is it that you have to whine so much about?"

"What do you know what problems I have? Who are you to judge?" I plant my palms on the table.

"It's a perfect summer day. Enjoy the day rather than sit and mope." He tilts his head closer to me. "What would you do if you had just one day?"

"Great. You want me to die?"

"No. That wasn't what I said. I asked what would you do IF you had one day."

"I don't know." I run my fingers through my hair. "Have lots of fun I guess."

"So what's stopping you now?"

"The small thing called money and the big thing called – I ain't dying tomorrow. Well, at least as far as I can help it."

"Okay, let's take away one of your problems. I will throw in the money for today. What would you do then?"

I narrow my eyes and look at him, not sure where this is heading. Judging from his clothes, he doesn't look loaded but who knows nowadays. All the IT billionaires look like they just strolled out of their beds.

"How about if I had a day to live? What would you suggest I do?"

This dude is weird. Maybe he has cancer or something. "Do you... only have a day?"

"Maybe. So what would you say I do."

"Hmm..." I tap my chin. "Fine, I'll play along. New York's a great place to die. There's so many things to do if you had unlimited money."

"Are you up for it then? To show me all the things, pretend I have just one day here."

This guy is totally strange. Was all this a ruse to get a date from me? If this rich spoilt New Yorker thinks he can buy me, he can put his head where the sun don't shine.

"No, thanks. I got tons to do."

"You just grumbled you didn't have a job and had nothing to do all day. So why not?"

"You are sneaky. Listening to other women grumble is totally not cool."

"Why don't you book the nicest car you want and let's go."

To tease him I call for a limo. It doesn't seem to faze him and just a few minutes later, it's outside.

A pin-striped suit driver opens the door to a limousine for us.

"Are you part of the mafia or something?"

"Not yet." He offers his hand. "My name's Leo. You should take down the number and send it to one of your friends if you are worried about me kidnapping you. Better to be safe, right?"

I watch him for a few long moments before agreeing to his plan when my insane mind decides to take a hike and ignores the dangers of the situation. "Fine, I am June." I slide into the car and pretend to text. I have no one to message but no harm in making it look that way.

"Where are we headed, sir?" the driver asks.

"The Met please."

Leo looks slightly disappointed as soon as I say the name.

When we stop at the Metropolitan Museum, I grab his arm and take him in the opposite direction to the entrance.

"I thought you said the museum."

"If I had one day here, I won't be wasting all day in a museum surely. Two minutes walk from here, they sell the coolest Pretzel and you get to do the coolest thing."

We buy our pretzels from a tiny white pop up shop. Leo looks worried about the quality but when he sees me hog my pretzel, he gives in.

"Wow, this is really good."

"Now we put a stamp on the city."

We walk through a tunnel and end up under a bridge by a local park. Few kids are riding their skateboards on a cement slopes while others are painting graffiti on the bridge walls.

"Want to have a go?" I ask.

"Will they let us?"

"They are teenagers and you said, you don't have a problem with money.

"Five minutes and twenty dollars lighter, Leo and I are madly spraying cans of spray all over the bridge walls.

"There, you already committed your first crime of the day." My laughter echoes within the bridge arches. The spray is satisfying, liberating and fun all at the same time. It sticks to our fingers and I laugh more when Leo accidentally wipes his face, smudging his cheek. "Do you want to have a go at the skateboards?" I ask.

"No. I think I will pass that one."

"Fine. Then let's head straight to the next stop, Times Square."

Once again the worry appears on his face. Twenty minutes later when we alight the limousine, I say, "If you have just one day, you want to feel alive and the best place to feel is in Times Square."

I grab his hand and lead him to the main point from where we can see the massive billboards. "Now, close your eyes for a whole minute. C'mon."

He does as I say and I follow him. When we close our eyes, the billboards fade away along with the yellow taxis and thousands of people but what remains is the buzz in the air. The buzz of so many people around us – talking, walking, hailing cabs, calling on phones, munching on burgers, taking pictures and most of all just being.

I whisper, "Feel that. That's the power of being alive."

A smile tugs on his lips. "You're good."

"Next stop, Chrysler."

When we stop in front of Chrysler building, Leo is expecting me to take him inside and up the elevators but that's not my plan at all. Tucked right behind the building, in a small alley is the best Pizza place in the entire city. With only a few places to sit, the place is heaving with regulars from lunchtime rush hour. We end up buying a slice each and strolling back to the car slowly.

As soon as he bites into a piece, Leo rolls his eyes skywards and makes all the right noises. "This is heaven."

I can't stop the grin on my face. "Told you. You thought I was taking you into the Chrysler, didn't you?"

"Yes, not that it isn't bad but I was worried if you were giving the regular NY tour." He finishes off the pizza and asks what time it is. At four in the afternoon, he is starting to look edgy and I am not sure why. Maybe he has to be somewhere.

"We have time for one final stop. Where do we go?"

"Brooklyn," I say.

When we halt just before the Brooklyn Bridge, I grab his hand and drag him along to the side where there are steps to climb higher. The steps are meant for maintenance workers.

"We'll get arrested if someone sees us. Isn't it?" Leo asks.

"Well, you asked me if I had one day. If I had one day I wouldn't care how it ended."

We sit there on the steps with our legs dangling over the side, the wind against our face and the rest of New York beneath us with their cars honking in the traffic. For a few moments, neither of us speaks, instead we gaze at the setting sun as the soft breeze brings along with it smells of the Atlantic sea and New York City.

"I guess it's time for goodbye," he mutters.

The wind whips my hair against my face as I turn towards him. That was sudden. I thought he was enjoying it but perhaps he isn't. We head down quietly. His limousine has pulled up by the side, at the bottom of the steps, ready to take him. He says goodbye and heads towards the car.

"What is it with you?" I shout. He stops walking but I can't stop talking. "Are you dying or something? Why don't you just say what it is?"

He laughs, still walking back towards his car. "I'm not dying. Just time to go. That's all."

I race to him and stop him just before he enters. "I don't buy it. There's something about you, you are not telling. After the whole day with you, don't I deserve to know?"

He scratches the spot between his forehead. "Fine. I suffer from acute Nyctalopia."

"What? What is Nyc... tal...?"

"It's genetic. It's a form of blindness. Starts with night blindness but has progressed to day as well. I can't see very well in the day either but a day like this is the only one in the year where I can make the most of it. I came here on work and wanted to enjoy the day, rented a limo as a treat and there you were sitting all grumpy. A perfect, normal human being who was moaning about her day when she had the perfect vision, perfect everything to make the most of it. So I asked you."

Tears sting at the back of my eyes. How wrong could I be about him?

He moves closer. "Just that you do have something else perfect. The perfect smile." He touches my cheek. "You know what I liked most about today. You are like a warm summer day, June. You showed me that I don't need my vision to enjoy. Everything we did today had nothing to do with sight and you gave me a great intro to New York city smells, noises and how it feels. The wind against my face on Brooklyn Bridge. The noises enveloping us on Time Square. The touch of paint against my skin and the lingering taste of the best pizza in the world. Thank you for that."

"Well, a perfect summer can last longer than a day." I smile and slide into the limo.

***