Chapter 15

 

Living in New York—The Beginning

A close friend Tracy, whom I met in college, now lived in Brooklyn, a borough of New York. She suggested that I visit her and stay if I liked the city. Tracy lived just off Flatbush and in a section called Brooklyn Heights. She lived in Brooklyn because she could not afford the rent in the city. Tracy worked at the local college teaching a class in the social sciences.

Tracy is of West Indian heritage, born in London England, and came to the U.S by way of Texas. On completion of college, she returned to England, where she met her husband. Her husband brought her back to the states to marry her but neglected to inform her he had a wife, who was now living in the basement of his home in Boston with their three children.

After Tracy discovered that the wife was still in the house, Tracy did not make a fuss and the wife eventually left for England with only two of her three children. Tracy now divorced from her Englishman needed a roommate. She is a delight and I loved her accent. Her family is from Jamaica, and when she was with them, I could hardly understand her; with some friends and strangers, she spoke the Queen’s English with the best of them. Tracy married her Brit the same time I married Mike, both marriages ended around the same time with different consequences and reasons.

I thought I would be married to him my entire life. After Mike had a heart attack and died suddenly, I packed my clothes and left Texas. I was a widow and never a bride. I left a lot of bad memories there.

Now I’m in New York and I’m a writer. I didn’t have to worry about money because I have plenty, and I have no children. Mike left me all his money and property. I needed friends and something to take my mind off the past, someone to love me, and for me to love them. I reached Brooklyn after the cabbie gave me an unwanted tour of the three boroughs, Queens, Manhattan, and Brooklyn; I’m sure he missed one.

I paid what I knew to be an excessive amount of money, then I lumbered out of the cab, into the apartment building tired and dazed. I knew I was in for an experience.

The building was clean and well kept and many of its inhabitants were artist and educators. Tracy greeted me after a few rings of the bell.

Tracy had a diverse group of friends at her apartment; Matt who taught theatre at a famous school for actors, Sylvia a playwright, and Steven who owned a Manhattan hair salon. Steven and I immediately connected. I knew he was gay right off. I could tell he was a man who couldn’t come to terms with his love of men and woman; he was on the “down low,” as Sylvia explained. Steven was at the apartment giving Sylvia and Tracy pointers on how to style their hair.

Steven’s favorite conversation was men. Tracy shared his enthusiasm. They invested hours into discussing and arguing over what men wanted. I didn’t join in because I didn’t think I was qualified. I had only experienced sex with two boys and one man in my twenty some years and I don’t think that counted for much.

During one of the spirited conversations weeks after my arrival, Steven declared that all men wanted was, “A good sandwich and a good blow job.” Everyone in the room became silent; and to digest what he had shouted to the world. Then everyone took a breath, looked up and laughed loudly.

“Well you should know Steven,” chided Sylvia, who appeared not to like Steven very much.

“Why are you jealous? You are jealous because I know what men want and I’m able to deliver,” Steven said waving his hands and snapping his finger in the air.

“Fuck you Steven!” shouted Sylvia.

“Anytime, can I put that in my date book? Sylvia is going to fuck me, but wait I’m too young to die.”

Sylvia a woman of thirty, who had a lot of drama and romance in her life, didn’t appear to have fared well with the love end. Every time Sylvia became interested in a man, he was either gay or old.

Her latest lover was in his late sixties, and during a night of passionate love or sex, which ever suited her situation, Sylvia discovered she needed a friend, so she made a late night call to me after knowing me for only a week—I was a port in a storm.

The phone was ringing louder than usual.

“Sydney, is Tracy there?”

“No Sylvia, what’s wrong, you don’t sound well.” I said concerned and sleepy.

“You could not imagine what has just happened.”

“No, I couldn’t, how about telling me,” I said, but I was not prepared for what came next.

“I’m in the bed with this guy I know. He is all of fifty or sixty, and then he starts to sweat. I’m thinking that I’m giving him some good loving, and just like that, he drops dead on me.”

“Are you kidding? You can’t be serious.”

“No he is just lying here with his eyes open.”

“Did you call the ambulance or 911?”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s married.”

“What does that matter? You should call for an ambulance.”

“What can I do now?” Sylvia whispered. “I’m thinking about leaving him in this room,” she said matter of fact.

“I don’t think that you should do that.”

“What should I do?”

“Call the ambulance, does his wife know you?”

“Yes”

“What?”

“Did you say yes?”

“Yes don’t act so surprised, he lives next door to me, on the same floor, the apartment to the right.” I guess I will have to move,” Sylvia said in a nonchalant voice.

“That’s all you say is you will have to move.”

“Well Sydney not everyone can afford to move, and into Manhattan no doubt.”

“Sylvia, I don’t think this is about me. Have you decided just what you will do?” I said trying to get her focused.

“I guess I’ll have to call the ambulance, do you think the police will come?”

“What do you think Sylvia?” I said a little annoyed.

“I guess that was a silly question.”

“I have to go Sylvia call me later.”

The dead man in Sylvia’s bed was married and someone had to tell his wife. Sylvia must have felt terrible trying to live that down. Steven was the second person to find out, and he never let her forget how she screwed a man to death.

Games were played out regularly at the apartment. I got the feeling that Sylvia and Steven had been lovers and now they were mortal enemies.

The apartment was neat but small; however, it was a meeting place for people that liked good discussions, opinions, and food.

Tracy welcomed me and gave me a hug.

She was cooking some of her native food, curry goat. You could smell the strong pungent smell of her cooking waffling through the hallway of the building. I was happy to be in New York and happy to leave Texas behind me. The memories and skeletons in closets were overflowing and eventually they would be out like a Halloween nightmare.

Tracy directed me to the small room where I would stay for a while, it was an extra room Tracy used for office space; it was great, even though I had to wade through papers and books to find my bed. I put my suitcase in the room. Tracy couldn’t wait to give me up to date information on her life. She plopped on the bed next to me.

“I’m glad you came, Sydney. You need a change of scenery,” she said trying to get a few things off her chest.

Tracy always started a conversation about the other person, but very soon, it would be about her. I listened.

“I needed a change too. Girl, bumba clod. I met this Anglo in London and he asked me to marry him.”

“Ass, I told him yes. Girl he married, yea, I not know it.”

Tracy fell back into her accent because she felt comfortable with me. I had to strain to understand her. I just acted as if I knew what she was saying. When Tracy talked to people whom she just met, she had this perfect Queen’s English.

“That was terrible. When did you find out?” I said trying to understand what I had missed.

“After I come to his home in Boston, there he is with his white wife and children living in the basement of their home.”

Tracy started talking and didn’t finish until early Saturday morning. I understood that she stayed married for about eight years, but when she decided to make her breast smaller, because it bothered her back, her husband found him another woman. She even told me about Steven and his love triangle.

One spirited evening at Tracy’s apartment, I made a mistake and asked Steven about Sam.

“Steven, I understand that you are interested in a married man.”

“Who told you that?”

“Oh I’m sorry; I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Steven how can you date a married man? I think that’s sick,” shouted Sylvia. Steven looked around at Sylvia and gave her the finger.

“Nothing could be more disgusting than swinging,” I added.

“Well you gay people are having too many partners,” Sylvia insinuated

“I’m only seeing one man,” said Steven smugly.

“What about Sam, who is he seeing?”

Everyone looked around the room and looked up at the ceiling, you could hear a few whistles, no one wanted to meet Steven’s eyes. When sex is involved people will do almost anything to satisfy their desires, even if it means lying to themselves.

I know all about lying, I continued my lies throughout the lonely years I stayed married to a man I could not stand or tolerate. I closed my eyes and mind to the world to make some peace with it, just to exist in it.

All I could feel was contempt for Mike because of his deceptions. I wanted to be married and have children. I could never forgive him for the destruction of my illusions and dreams.

Now with his money I’m able to live some of my dreams. I felt lucky now and I wanted to enjoy every moment of living in New York. For some strange reason, Steven and I had a good rapport. We enjoyed each other’s conversations and company.

He thought I was a little green because I came from the South. He took it upon himself to show me New York, and warn me about what New York can do to a person. I had seen more in Texas. New York would be a cakewalk. I have met good people in both places and I have met the worst types everywhere.

Steven shuttled me around to get me acquainted with the sights and sounds of New York.

Zack arranged for me to transfer to a job in New York and Steven showed me where I would be working. Zack even informed me that I could take as much time as I needed to get acquainted with this vibrant city. He knew that a place as awesome as this could be overwhelming.

I settled in and began working before I checked in with my boss. His boss was Zack and I knew as long as I produced, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Steven did not waste any time solidifying his friendship with me, he even introduce me to friends of his who had contacts to very eligible straight men.

Because Steven owns a salon, he knew all the gossip of those who had money. He knew all their secrets and he kept them most of the time. He only divulge information if someone crossed him, otherwise I found him to be a loyal friend and confidant.