A Girl Named Digit by Annabel Monaghan

Author:Annabel Monaghan [Monaghan, Annabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2012-06-04T22:00:00+00:00

My Other Car is a Limo

When we got out of the subway at Seventy-ninth Street, it was noon. I was a little shaken, and my arm was bleeding pretty badly. We got up to the top of the stairs at street level and looked both ways up and down Lexington Avenue. It was business as usual here. People were rushing to the park or to lunch or home to sleep after a big night out. That may be the most exciting thing about New York—the fact that everyone there is doing something totally different. A woman with a $15,000 handbag waited at the light next to a Vietnamese delivery guy on a bike. The richness of it was not lost on me, even at that moment.

John stopped and pulled out his pocketknife from his backpack and sliced off the tails of his button-down shirt. He quickly bandaged my arm with it.

“Too tight,” I complained.

“Too bad,” he replied, putting his arm around me and leading me down Seventy-ninth Street. I wondered how such a beautiful city could be so dirty. And I wondered if we were the dirtiest people in the city. It had been exactly eight days since my last hot shower and nine days since I last shaved my legs. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those girls who just gets the tiniest bit of downy blond fuzz on her lower legs. I’m more like one of those girls who gets a five o’clock shadow on her legs by noon. My need for a razor was becoming a national emergency.

Also, I was starving and cold. I could tell John was still pissed, but his arm was around me and I leaned my head over onto his shoulder as we walked. I was injured, so I could get away with this sort of thing. I was enjoying the sounds of the city, the traffic, the horns, and the shouting. I didn’t want to interrupt it by asking John exactly where we’d be staying. Correction: spending the night.

Just before we got to the end of the long block separating Lexington Avenue from Park Avenue, John steered me into an alleyway. We were wedged between a dry cleaner and a townhouse with a spilled garbage can blocking any further access. John helped me over the garbage can and carefully placed his hands on my shoulders. Gently, he pushed me up against the brick wall of the townhouse. He stood with his chest against mine, his lips at my forehead, and his hands against the wall. I could see his breath as his mouth got closer to mine. I didn’t know where the change of heart was coming from, but, well, it was about time. Sometimes all you need is a near-death experience.

I looked up at him to make the kiss unavoidable. I think in my head I’d already been kissing him since we got off the subway; it was time for him to catch up. But when I looked up, I saw that he wasn’t looking at me at all.

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