Chapter Thirty-Six
New York Bound
Before we know it, the first week of November arrives, and Luke and I officially make our voyage to New York City. We fly out that Saturday morning and plan to return the following Sunday night, giving us an entire week to see the sights and catch up with Luke’s friends.
I don’t tell Luke I splurged on first-class tickets, even though it’s less than a two-hour flight from Detroit, because I don’t want to cause him any undue guilt for how much it cost. Instead, I act like we got a free upgrade as soon as we get to the airport.
Airlines do that kind of thing all the time, so I’m sure it’s believable.
It was worth it for the legroom alone, and the difference in cost was insignificant anyway. Or, at least, insignificant to me.
But seeing the childlike delight on Luke’s face as he settles into the luxurious first-class recliner and sips on a glass of sparkling (also mysteriously complimentary) champagne is priceless.
Besides, it feels like I’m taking a page out of Luke’s book of life when I remember his mantra, “If you’re already going to do something, why not do it spectacularly? ”
From the moment I get on the plane, until the massive New York City skyline peaks its way over the horizon, I can feel my anxiety steadily increasing.
My hands shake at the idea of descending into the concrete jungle, and I try my best to hide them by stuffing them in my jacket pockets as we walk through the terminal toward baggage claim to pick up our duffels.
It only works until Luke notices that I’ve gone practically rigid, and he gently puts his arm through mine, holding onto me tightly.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he says with a slight chuckle, but the pressure of his grip tells me he’s taking my stress level very seriously. “I’ve got you.”
Those three little words are more potent than anything else he could have said, and I can feel my heart settle with the promise.
It’s a strong reminder that he won’t let anything happen to me.
Still, it’s hard to imagine how I’m going to react to the city itself if I’m this freaked out when we haven’t even left the airport yet.
“It’s another hour from here by train before we’re there,” Luke says off-handedly.
“Wait… Aren’t we already in New York City?” I blink with confusion.
“Yes, but this is Queens. We need to get across town to Chelsea in Manhattan.”
“An hour across a single city?” I blink.
At best, it’s only ever taken five to ten minutes to get from one end of a town line to another back home.
Anything longer than that, and you’ll inevitably cross a border or two.
I knew New York City was massive, but I don’t think I fully understood the scale until now.
“It’s a little quicker by car, but when you account for cab fare? Forget about it. The train is much cheaper.”
I feel my eye twitch slightly at the mention of cost, and I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake.
It didn’t occur to me to consider the different modes of transportation available when we made these plans.
Having no experience with getting around the city, I deferred to Luke in that area, but I didn’t account for the fact that he would make the more economical choice in an effort to save money.
Now I wonder if it’s too late to get him to reconsider his choice, or would it be incredibly offensive of me to suggest we take the expensive cab instead?
The thought of getting on a train surrounded by dozens of people, all while underground… A shudder runs through me.
Despite my apprehension, I bite my tongue and follow Luke’s lead, reminding myself that he’s here with me and won’t let me get lost in the New York City subway system. It’ll be an adventure, I suppose. Lord knows I need to be more open to those…
After a very long walk through the airport, Luke has us get on the AirTrain, and the short ride across Queens gives me a glimpse of the enormity of this place.
Where we are now reminds me a little bit of the outer suburbs of Detroit, with all the little houses crammed together next to busy freeways.
There are little to no yards or any stretches of property, but spurts of greenery dot the otherwise built-up space.
The random graffiti tags make it feel oddly like home, too.
But I can also see some of the skyscrapers in the distance, and my stomach drops.
They make Detroit’s look like toothpicks in comparison.
The train eventually stops at Jamaica Station, and Luke has us get off and walk down a bunch of stairs, and then even more stairs, until we find ourselves on the Subway platform underground.
Just glancing at the map of the different intersecting rail lines has me sweating with all the little numbers and letters that don’t mean anything to me, but Luke doesn’t even need to look at it.
I can’t tell if that’s because he knows the route by heart or if he researched it before we got here and committed it to memory.
Being underground feels strange if I think about it for too long—a little claustrophobic, even.
The idea that an entire city of people above our heads could crush us instantly if the tunnel system were to collapse makes me squirm, and I can feel my eye twitch again at the thought.
I try to push the image from my mind as we get onto the train, and it starts moving.
We sit in a train car with a couple dozen people as it chugs along, stopping periodically to let some people off and more people on, and I notice pretty quickly that almost everyone is keeping to themselves.
There’s no eye contact or friendly smiles among the passengers, except for the very obvious tourists, and the train is relatively silent apart from the metallic clunk of the wheels on the tracks and the high-pitched squeal of the brakes.
There are a few quiet conversations among people clearly riding together, but they keep their voices low, and I get the distinct impression that everyone likes it this way.
Even Luke is oddly reserved, blending right in as if this is some form of train etiquette everyone here knows about.
He's got his knee pressed against mine, and he idly brushes his thumb over the back of my hand in his lap, but otherwise, we sit in relative silence. I don’t mind it, honestly.
It would be an excellent place to pick up a book if I were confident I wouldn’t miss my stop by getting too engrossed in the plot.
Despite having Luke here to ensure that doesn’t happen, I’m still too anxious to do anything but observe for now.
The overhead announcements are repetitive as they let everyone know what station we’ve stopped at, what station is next, and to watch out for the closing doors. After it chimes the first couple of times, it quickly fades into background noise, and I can kind of ignore it.
The station we’re apparently getting off at is called 23rd St—since Luke has us stand up at the stop before it when it’s announced to be next—and we move closer to the doors in preparation to get off quickly.
Standing up while the train jerks forward feels a bit reckless, and it’s obvious I don’t have the sea legs for it as I cling to the bar to keep myself upright, but Luke stands perfectly at ease without having to hold onto anything—native bastard.
My heart beats like a snare drum in my chest as the doors open, and suddenly, everything feels much more urgent.
Luke ushers us onto the platform, where a million people wait impatiently to take our spots in the train car.
It’s loud in the cramped space, and much more crowded than the one we got on at.
I feel like I’m bumping into people with every turn I make while Luke maneuvers around them with ease.
At least he never lets go of my hand, holding it firmly as he leads us toward more stairs, heading up and out into the fresh air.
As soon as we’re back above ground, I release a weighty exhale, feeling a wave of relief wash over me like I haven’t seen daylight in years.
Luke turns his head and smiles knowingly as he pulls us back against the wall of a nearby building, out of the way of others walking on the sidewalk, so I can have a moment to breathe.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks with poorly restrained teasing.
I cut him a silent glare, and he bursts out laughing at the look on my face.
But his crystalline laughter is like long-forgotten music to my ears, and the moment I hear it, I instantly realize I haven’t heard it properly in weeks.
God, how I’ve missed the sound. I’m not able to pinpoint exactly when it went away, but I can’t help but smile at the resurgence of his delight, even knowing it’s at my expense.
Suddenly, all the discomfort in the world would be worth it to keep that sparkle in his eyes.
“You honestly lived like this every day?” I ask, glancing around as I try to regain my bearings.
There are so many people walking around even though it’s cold and windy, the sun offering hardly any warmth, and I start to feel a little of that claustrophobia creeping back up the longer we stand here.