It’s roughly one o’clock AM on June 29th, 2014,
as I stand in a tangled mass of arms attempting to keep an entire window pane
from falling onto a small gathering of laughing, cat-calling onlookers two
stories below. This is the result of what should have been the simple process
of restoring a popped-out window screen to its rightful place. Balancing the
heavy sheet of glass on my wearying arms, I wonder yet again what possessed me
to leave a steady job and a comfortable home Upstate in exchange for a dusty,
mouse-ridden apartment and no job in Bed-Stuy.
Ten months prior, when my mother remarked that she could
imagine me living in New York City, I laughed and said, “No way. Never. I would
never live in the city.” Having been born and raised in an all-but-forgotten village
in Upstate New York, and having attended universities in towns with few people
but plenty of open road, trees, and fresh air, the idea of moving somewhere
without family, without greenery, and without readily-available parking
repelled me. It wasn’t until I found myself sitting in my parents’ guest room
after work, watching cooking shows and drinking from a glass filled to the brim
with red wine, that I realized that it was time for me to consider doing more
with my life before accepting my status as a home-bound, web-surfing spinster.
I wanted more than a nine-to-five and occasional brunches and routine chores,
didn’t I? I wanted an adventure!
Fast forward to Christmas when I half-jokingly told a
city-bound friend to call on me if she needed a roommate and she said, much to
my surprise, “I’m serious if you are.” It didn’t seem real until April, when
she started talking about searching for apartments and finding work. What was
once a casually tossed-around idea – “I’m
thinking of moving to Brooklyn.” “It won’t be until the summer, maybe even the
fall.” “I’ll be around for a while yet.” – suddenly turned into a swiftly-approaching
reality. Every chance I had to change my mind comes flooding back to me as I listen
to our neighbors whoop with laughter at our window-induced predicament.
After agreeing to call it a night and give the window-fixing
project another go in the morning, I lie awake for a long time, bathed in sweat
and heat and the orange light from the streetlamps, streaming through the open,
curtain-less windows, which also allow us a crystal clear earful of the
neighbors’ long-winded arguments.
“God, have I made a
mistake?” I cannot help but wonder as the fear of unpaid rent, late-night
muggings, and lost friendships – none of which have happened yet – barges into my
mind. Yet it’s too late now; for better or for worse, here I am. After all, I wanted
an adventure, didn’t I?
KP
