Page 33 of Before Eve
“I love Pixy Stix.”
“Clearly, someone needs to school you in candy bars. It has to have chocolate.”
“No, it doesn’t!”
“You excited about The Garden?” he asks next.
“I am. Is that the biggest venue you’ve ever played?”
“Yeah.” He offers a nervous smile. “It’s intimidating, but I’m excited.”
“You’re going to do great.”
“Thanks.”
And on we talk, rocking peacefully with the wake andwatching the scenery. Time silently rolls by. I settle into his nearness and the cozy peacefulness it brings. Eventually, the ferry ride is over and we find our way to Little Italy.
We choose a restaurant with a purple and orange awning and both order virgin Bellinis.
“To friends,” he toasts.
Friends.Yet it does seem like we’re becoming more.
“Hey.” He pulls out his iPhone. “Give me your number. I can’t believe I don’t already have it.”
I do, and he types it in. My phone buzzes then, and I check the display.
West: Hi, guess who?
Smiling, I save his contact and reply:
Me: Hm, I wonder…
He tucks his phone away. “Let’s see, we did movies and music, and I already know your favorite food is Italian. How about the coolest place you ever traveled.”
I’ve been to a lot of places, sure, but right now here is the best. “This place,” I say.
“Yeah, New York’s awesome. Oh, man, I was in Argentina once. That’s got to be the most gorgeous place in the world.”
Argentina. Now that’s a place I’ve never been. “Why is it so gorgeous?”
“The glaciers. The waterfalls. The salt flats. The mountains. The architecture. Outdoor cafes. Cobblestone streets.” He brightens. “Penguins, too! Oh, Eve, you would love it.”
I sigh, imagining. “That does sound lovely. Where else have you visited?”
“Mexico, all over Europe, Australia, New Zealand, the Philippines.”
“You’ve been everywhere!”
“I have, and I’d love to take you some time. We should make Argentina our first stop.”
I take a sip of my Bellini, imagining the freedom to travel and see whatever I want. To not have an ornamental role and strict rules. To not constantly be in fear of breaking those rules…
Our lasagna finally comes. We eat and talk about everything from roadies to music to our next city on the tour. After that we just walk around with no agenda, stopping when we want, popping in and out of stores, and browsing street vendors.
Day turns into night, and at nine West suggests, “How about I get a blanket and we do some star gazing from the top of the hotel? Or rather moon gazing. I doubt we’ll see many stars with all the light pollution.”
“Sure, that sounds great.”
