My thoughts wandered to Dympna. Perhaps it was intuition, but I felt a tug, a calling to home. I stared at the telephone on the bedside table. What time was it in Dublin? Weren’t they five hours ahead? But a call home would surely show up on an itemised bill. I should have been honest about having a friend. How would I get by without speaking to Dympna? Why had I lied in the first place? I bit down on my lip harder than intended, wincing as I felt the pinch. The mobile, I thought, pain clarifying my thoughts. I could have used my own phone, but that would give an open invitation for Dympna to call me back. It would be better to call from the mobile she’d given me. Or, better still, send a text.
Retrieving the phone from the folds of my suitcase, I mentally prepared my text. Relief flooded my system as I switched it on to see no missed calls. My thumbs worked quickly as I tapped in the words Landed safely. Flew first class, limo brought me to hotel! No need to worry, all is well. Meeting the couple soon. Hope all is good with you XX.
I checked my watch. I had an hour to kill. A short walk around the block couldn’t do any harm. I smiled to myself. I had only just landed in America and already I was using their terms. After whizzing down to the ground floor in the lift, I was soon breathing in the smell of the city streets. It was a far cry from Dublin, which carried the tang of the River Liffey on a warm day. New York City assaulted my senses, bombarding me with a cacophony of sounds and smells. There was no standing still as crowds of people walked shoulder to shoulder to a backdrop of beeping taxi horns. I inhaled the scent of street vendors, of popcorn and hotdogs mingled with car exhaust fumes. I became part of the tide of people, my horizons expanding with each step I took. Following the signs, I headed towards Times Square. I still couldn’t believe how warm it was for November and I was glad I had changed out of my sweaty clothes.
‘Can you spare me twenty dollars so I can get a job?’ The request came from a skinny, toothless man, but his words made me stop in my tracks. He must have only been in his thirties, but it looked like life had hit him hard.
‘How can twenty dollars get you a job?’ I asked, with genuine curiosity. I had managed to get to the cash machine in the hotel foyer, but I had so little money and every note was precious to me.
The man scratched his unshaven face, buying himself a few extra seconds to come up with a believable response. Grinning, he lifted his chequered shirt. I followed his gaze to his midriff, and saw that his weather-worn jeans were held up by a plastic bag tied around the loops.
‘I can’t get a job with my pants hanging off. Twenty dollars will buy me a belt.’
I snorted a laugh. At least the beggars in Ireland were content with a couple of euros. In New York, they aimed high.
‘I don’t have a job either, so that makes two of us,’ I replied. I unpeeled two dollars from the small fold of notes in my pocket and pressed them into his palm.
‘Good luck,’ the guy said with a gap-toothed smile. ‘You’re a long way from home.’
Indeed I was, and it became more evident with every step I took into Times Square. The buildings were high above my head as giant ads and neon signs fought for my attention. It felt closed in but marvellously impressive at the same time. Ireland was changing, but progress was slow, and New York felt like a different planet by comparison. I tried to train myself not to jump every time a taxi beeped its horn, and to watch for the flashing lights telling me how many seconds I had to cross the road. Doubling back, I strolled through Bryant Park, taking comfort in the seasonal gardens. The vibe was more relaxed here and I watched couples playing with children, people sitting at reading stations and others playing chess. How different this was to my upbringing in Ireland. A world away from my life. What was in store next?
I had just got back to the room when a sharp knock