Page 59 of Some Nights

The whole ride she’s playing with the pendant and pointing out stuff in the city. We take a selfie for her sister and she sends it. “Sierra likes your taste in jewelry.”

When we make it downtown and the lights become brighter, she grabs my face and we’re kissing like we’re alone in her bedroom and not in a cab. When the car stops, I tip the driver and help her out of the car. She’s smiling like a cat that swallowed a whole flock of canaries.

“Come on.” She’s leading me down forty-sixth street. Half a block later, I see the huge sign and want a car to run me over.

She’s taking me to seeHamilton.

I groan. “You did not do this.”

She laughs. “I believe I did.”

“But why?”

Her face turns serious and for a nanosecond, I’m afraid I hurt her feelings. As annoyed as I am, the last thing I want to do is that. But she leans closer and whispers against my mouth.

“I want to hear other people chant parts of your name.” She laughs and pulls me toward the theater. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”

I follow like I have no will and thirty minutes later she’s still laughing at the way I wince every time they say Alexander Hamilton. The play is good but I don’t know if it’s because I like it or because I’m seeing it through her eyes. Her laughter at one point gets us dirty looks by a couple of people.

At intermission we go outside and I grab her in the middle of the lobby with people scurrying to the bathroom and to get drinks. “You owe me for this.”

“I owe you for showing you a good time in my city? God, you’re high maintenance. Let’s take a pic of you in front of the display so you can send it to your mom. She’ll love it.”

I want to groan but that is probably the sweetest thing she’s ever said.

She makes me stand there and takes out her phone, but I tug her next to me and ask one of the floor attendants to take our pic. I hug her to my side and she smiles up at me and then at the camera.

I thank the man and then she’s pulling me again. This time toward the souvenir store.

“No. You’re not getting me anything from here. The play is great and I’m not even annoyed but no gifts.”

She crosses her arms. “First of all, don’t tell me what to do. Second of all, you are so self-centered. This is not for you. Third, I believe the words you want to say are thank and you.”

I laugh. She’s too much. “Who are you buying a present for?”

“Your mom and your Aunt Iris. What sizes for the T-shirts?”

She gets them T-shirts, signed programs, and makes me stand for another picture which they place in an official frame. We walk back because intermission is over but the whole show ceases to exist. There’s only Saona and her head bopping to the music. Or the way she turns to me and smiles. Or how the bags with the presents for my mom and aunt keep pressing to my leg.

Even as I watch the show, all of it twists and turns in my head. And one thought shouts clear and loud in my head.

I’m in love with her.

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