Page 41 of My Book Boyfriend
“He didn’t look too happy about our holding hands. I think he wasn’t quite ready to give you up, even if he is dating someone else,” I say.
“Maybe.” She smiles up at me. “Thanks for trying to boost my ego. That’s enough about Aiden. I’ve clearly spent way too much time thinking about him already.”
“Shall we take the subway?”
“Sure,” she says.
I follow her down the stone steps, past the lions guarding the entrance, both decked out with red bows for the evening festivities.
Black sedans, cars, and taxis are lined up outside the entrance as people call out their goodbyes, making plans to meet up again soon, and pile into the waiting vehicles.
We stroll to the corner in silence and turn left to walk west along the wide boulevard of 42ndStreet, past the New York Public Library facade, reaching the row of bare trees that mark Bryant Park. I want to hold her hand, but I can’t be surePage Sixis not following us.
Off in the distance, an ambulance siren wails. The flags of the tall office buildings on the north side flutter in the night breeze.
“What kind of community activities do you plan?” I ask.
“I see the library as a free community center. We plan various afternoon programs, including coding classes for teens, a book club for kids, and, of course, daily story time for our pre-school children. Homework help has been outsourced, but we can always help with research for reports.”
Her whole face lights up when she talks about the library and its programs. It makes me want to bask in that warmth.
“And then, as you may know, in the Oasis Community Garden, I’m running a children’s gardening book club. We’re growing tomatoes and peas, and the children participating are writing books about it. Peas are especially great for New York because they’re vertically growing plants.”
My stomach sinks.
“I hope we grow enough so that every child can take home a tomato and some peas.”
Maybe we can move the planted seeds somewhere safe before construction begins.
“What about the squirrels and rats?” I ask.
“We do our best to make it as unattractive for rats as possible. Mrs. Potter does a fair amount of offense to keep them out and prevent them from gaining a foothold.” She glances at me. “She’s very good at dealing with rats.”
I smile. “And here I thought your opinion of me had improved.”
She chuckles. It’s this joyful sound that warms me up inside.
Bryant Park is closed, all the small stalls of the Winter Park shuttered, including the hot chocolate stand.
I point at it. “Hot chocolate would be perfect right about now.”
“With marshmallows or whipped cream?”
“Either.”
We reach the green, metal entrance of the B and D subway lines on Sixth Avenue and jog down the subway steps as a bunch of people emerge. We must have just missed a train.
Someone says to us, “Uptown is not working. There’s a signal problem.”
We turn around on the staircase as Lily says, “We can take the 1, 2, or 3.”
“They’re out too,” another passerby says. “Water main break.”
We trudge up the stairs.
“Citi Bike?” I ask, but even as I suggest it, I realize it’s impossible with her dress. And across the street, no bikes are left at that station.
We both pull out our phones and check the various ride apps, as does everyone around us. But nobody is available for another thirty minutes. Taxis race up Sixth Avenue, but they’re all full of passengers.
