ChapterTwo
Mallory walked aimlessly for another few minutes, trying to drum up the energy to go into a bodega or a coffee shop and ask for some good, old-fashioned directions. That’s how people got around in the old days, wasn’t it? Her terror of New Yorkers couldn’t overpower her.
Eventually, she spotted a corner bodega. A young woman walked out the glass door, gripping the hand of a little boy around the age of four. They could have been Zachery and Mallory in two years’ time. Mallory raised her eyes to greet the woman, hoping she would recognize the “mother” within her. The mother stepped back and opened the door wide for Mallory to enter. This was the first act of goodwill Mallory had seen since her arrival.
Mallory walked to the counter, where she purchased a fat Tootsie Roll and asked the current employee how to get to a place called Alphabet City. The man laughed, showing stained yellow teeth.Was he laughing at how ridiculous she looked? At her sopping-wet sweatshirt?
“You’re not far,” the man told her, grabbing a napkin from next to the coffeemaker. With a sharpie, he drew out directions for her. The black ink reeked, a reminder of long-ago days in high school when Mallory and her friends had drawn on each other and the arms of the boys they’d liked.
“Gosh, thank you.” Mallory nearly swallowed her tongue with gratefulness.
As the employee finished his map and instructions, he furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “Where are you from? You aren’t a New Yorker.”
Mallery grinned, “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.” The man laughed good-naturedly. “But it’s okay. People come here from everywhere. That’s the point of New York.”
Mallory accepted the napkin, studying the map as she nibbled on the edge of the sugary Tootsie roll. She felt like Zachery with one of his old pacifiers.
“No more than fifteen minutes of walking,” the man coaxed her along. “You can make it.”
Mallory laughed, feeling now like a young girl at soccer practice. The bodega worker was her coach. “Can I give you money for your help?”
The man shook his head, as though he was mortified at the thought. “Just remember that not everyone in New York City is mean. True New Yorkers help one another. They have the spirit of the old city.”
Mallory’s heart lifted like a balloon. She fled the store and hustled down the sidewalk, her feet squelching with water. When she finally reached Alphabet City, it was six-thirty, and the clouds parted joyously, bringing heavenly light to the city. Mallory removed her heavy sweatshirt and shoved it in her backpack before scouring the streets of Alphabet City, hunting for her twenty-four-year-old sister.
At the far end of the third block a smattering of artsy twenty-somethings gathered outside. Their tattoos were abstract or vintage, and they smoked American Spirits without a care in the world. One of them, a girl with long braids, discussed the poetry of Patti Smith while a guy with a bun strummed a guitar near the door.
Mallory stopped short, analyzing the crowd and hunting for her kid-sister, the girl who’d followed her around like a shadow for the first ten or so years of her life. It was like she could sense her.
Finally, a young woman with bright pink hair stepped out of the gallery space. She wore a loose and terribly short swing dress and had very toned legs probably from the city life. She stopped to speak to another young woman, who smoked an American Spirit cigarette and chewed at the edge of her thumbnail. She looked both anxious and cool, a strange balance Mallory had never witnessed.
Suddenly, Alexie lifted her eyes to meet Mallory’s. She’d sensed her, too. An initial smile fell back into worry as she realized just how damp Mallory was.
“What happened to you?” Alexie cried, taking Mallory’s backpack as she gave her a side-hug.
Mallory shrugged. “I got lost, then my phone died and of course, I look like a drowned rat thanks to all the rain.”That about covered it.
Alexie’s brow twisted. “I just didn’t think it would be so hard to find from the bus station. And I had so much stuff to finish here.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” What Mallory wanted to say was,I already know how selfish you are.But she held it back. What good would that vitriol do for her now?
“I might have some extra clothes in back,” Alexie said, tugging Mallory into the gallery. Mallory hardly had the energy to lift her eyes toward the wide variety of paintings and sculptures, none of which were “pleasant” to view, all of which seemed to want to “push boundaries” and make the viewer “uncomfortable.” She was already terribly uncomfortable.
“Let’s see.” In back, Alexie bent down to sift through a big bag of clothes. “I had trouble deciding what to wear tonight and packed plenty of options, just in case. Here. What about this black dress?”
Alexie lifted it. It was way more avant-garde than anything Mallory had ever worn, with puffy sleeves and a tight waistline and a diagonal skirt. Whatever. She didn’t want to sift through the clothing, and she didn’t want to continue to wear her wet jeans. This would have to do.
As Mallory changed in the corner, Alexie crossed her arms and eyed the door between the gallery and the back room. “A lot more people are here already than I expected.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
Alexie groaned. “I don’t know if they’re the ‘right’ people, you know? They’re NYU students. Grad students. But none of the people out there have had any real success. I don’t think they know anyone in the art world, anyone who could give me a leg up.”
Mallory’s stomach twisted with rage.You have an exhibition in Alphabet City in the most vibrant city on earth. Isn’t that enough?
Alexie glanced back, surprised at Mallory’s silence. Mallory zipped up the dress, almost getting the zipper up to the nape of her neck.