the room would also keep me up. I thought I might get some fresh flowers after I had given the whole apartment a good cleaning.
I had left a light on in the bathroom, but neon lights from grand signs across the street flickered on the walls. They seemed strong enough to come right through them. That and the light from buildings outside poured through the sheer old cotton curtains and kept darkness at bay. Realizing I didn’t need it because of that, I rose and turned off the bathroom light. The room still seemed to be on fire.
If Daddy were here, I thought as I returned to bed, he’d be ranting about the waste of electricity in those buildings. Why was it necessary to keep the lights on so brightly in empty offices stories high? Was everyone afraid of burglars, even at those heights? How long would it take me to get used to this?
I decided I just had to get thicker curtains for my bedroom. These were too dodgy anyway and might fall apart after one wash. There were sure to be other expenses I had not anticipated. If I took too long learning how to be a waitress, I could run low on funds quickly, especially after having been robbed. This wasn’t going to be as easy peasy as I had convinced myself it would be. Another saying of my father’s flashed across my mind: “A fool spends no time at all convincing himself of something he knows in his heart to be untrue.”
Oh, put a sock in it, Emma Corey, I told myself. Just imagine your father’s look of self-satisfaction if you went running home after only a day in New York. You’d have to get rid of mirrors because of the disappointment that had sunk into your face. Every time he had a chance, your father would remind you of the money you had wasted, not to mention time, which was the same thing to him.
I won’t go home even for a short visit, I vowed, not until I’ve had some success that would quell his criticism.
Who knew? When I returned to New York after that, I might have his blessing. He could even begin to brag, although the few times I had seen my father admit to being wrong, he looked like he would choke. His face would redden, and my mother would have to say, “Breathe, Arthur, breathe.”
Still, the thought of all that happening someday filled me with encouragement.
However, when I finally fell asleep, I didn’t sleep well. There were so many unexpected sounds to wake me periodically. People in other apartments in the building apparently either worked at night or were serious insomniacs. Sometimes, the footsteps were so loud I sat up, thinking someone had broken into my apartment. I was really looking forward to a roommate, hopefully someone used to all this and therefore someone who could reassure me at night, as well as ease the burden of expenses.
Consequently, I almost overslept and leaped out of bed when I looked at the desk clock I had brought from England. It had been a gift from Mrs. Taylor on my fourteenth birthday. I could still hear her say, “Any daughter of Arthur Corey better know what time it is.” She had bought me one that matched the blue in Julia’s and my room. Right now its hands were clapping, and its face was screaming, Get up; get going. You wanted a new life. Start it!
Not knowing my way around New York, I knew I had to leave myself more time to get to the restaurant. I rushed about, gulping only a glass of juice for breakfast. I wasn’t satisfied with the way I looked when I had left, but as Daddy would chant, “Priorities, priorities, when it comes to precious minutes.” As I hurried down the stairs, I thought, Now the apartment building is so quiet? Maybe the other tenants were all vampires.
As soon as I saw a phone booth, I stopped to call home, because my phone wasn’t hooked up yet. I had left earlier as well to make the call, remembering we were five hours behind the U.K. Before I stepped in, I groaned with disappointment. Someone had vandalized the phone and cut the wire connecting the receiver.
I started to panic when I couldn’t find a public phone that worked. One after another either had its cord cut or smelled so much like a dirty bathroom that I couldn’t imagine going