A Long Way From You (27 page)

“No, the church just owns it. You see that stone archway? It’s an entrance to a secret garden. It’s only open sometimes, but when you go in, it’s like walking into the jungle from
Where the Wild Things Are
. You can hardly believe you’re in New York.”

“Awesome,” I say as I walk through the wide-open iron gate.

Iona hesitates. “This is somewhere you have to go by yourself,” she says. “It’s your turn to see it, so I’ll head home. Good luck finishing your project. And who knows—maybe after the exhibition, we’ll meet up again in another world.”

“Are you on Facebook?” I ask.

Iona shakes her head: “Nope,” she answers. Somehow, I’m not surprised. “I bet our lives will intersect again one day, but let’s leave it up to chance. Isn’t that more fun? Twenty-first-century technology takes the fate out of life. Besides, I’ve got a feeling that Kitsy Kidd will someday be coming to a gallery near me soon. It’s just a hunch. I want to be a shrink, not a psychic, although sometimes my parents think they’re both.”

I cross back through the gate and give Iona a hug. She only holds it for a second; then she pushes me off.

“See you at the exhibition tomorrow,” she says, already heading down Hudson Street.

Walking into the garden of the Church of St. Luke in the Fields is like opening a treasure chest. In the middle of this concrete jungle, there’s a lush green sanctuary where an archway of cherry trees creates a tunnel for you to pass through. It’s “ah-mazing” as Ford would say.

I don’t see a single person as I sit under an ivy-covered tree and listen to a sparrow as he feeds from a homemade birdhouse. Admiring the flowers that come in as many varieties as there are people in New York, I think about having a Georgia O’Keeffe moment and sketching a solitary flower, but then I begin to draw a subject I’ve never dared to try: a self-portrait. I do it entirely from memory.

After I finish my portrait, I impulsively decide to text Tad to see if he wants to meet up at the Empire State Building to say good-bye. Even though the scene at the Mercury Lounge hurt, it would be worse not to see him one last time.

Tad texts back right away.

I’ll see you there!

I leave the garden and try to pretend that I’m not nervous.

While I’m waiting on Tad near the Empire State Building, I think about what Annika said. Should I feel lucky that Tad liked me as a friend with no strings attached? The more I think about it, the more I realize she’s right. Although it would’ve been nice to have a song written about me.

“You just love getting high, don’t you?” Tad’s voice whispers in my ear.

I whip around and shake my head at him.

“I’m sorry about the scene at the lounge,” Tad says. “I acted like an asshole.”

“Forget about it. It’s in the past.” And it’s true. Just like whatever feelings I had for Tad. I was just as sweet on Tad’s being a New Yorker and interest in art as I was on him. I think that made my heart wires cross.

I look up at the Empire State Building. While I’ve seen it, this is the first time I’ve been this close to it.

“We’re going up. It’s my treat. I’m in the money. I just sold my song,” Tad announces and does a little dance. “That’s what I was doing in Midtown. I’m sure it’ll end up a Justin Bieber remix or something, but still. Pretty sweet feeling, I must say.”

“But I thought you were going to sing it? It’s your song!” I try but can’t imagine anyone else singing Tad’s lyrics.

“The important part for me was writing it,” Tad says seriously. “I don’t care who sings it. Honest. It’s about my dad, so I don’t know if I could get through it without crying. Sometimes, you can actually be too close to something.”

His dad?
Of course. I feel like a
total
idiot right now. His dad was his buoy. I want to burst out laughing at my own stupidity, but I hold my breath and tell him honestly, “Congratulations. I’m sure your dad would be proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kitsy,” Tad says. “You always know what to say. Now let’s go see New York from over a hundred and two floors up. By the way, did I ever mention that I have acrophobia? You might have to hold my hand.”

I put my hand in his without regret because I know it doesn’t mean anything, and there are definitely no Tad tingles when our palms touch.

On the way up, my ears pop. That’s how high we are.

At the observation deck, I spot a dozen giant binoculars you can use for a quarter.

I start digging through my purse when Tad gently slips a quarter into my hand. “Growing up in the city, my parents taught me to never leave home without a quarter to make a call. Of course, this was all pre–cell phones, but I still do it out of habit.”

Sliding the quarter into the slot, I smile and thank him.

As I turn the binoculars toward Central Park, my view transforms from a glob of green to a clear picture of tiny people moving around the park. The people look like chess pieces in the game of life. Seeing through the binoculars reminds me of looking through a camera and how I finally realized that the hardest job for an artist is to choose the right subject. For me, the best one turned out to be in my backyard. Who knows what my next subject will be?

“Are you coming to my show tomorrow?” After the Annika thing, I wasn’t sure if Tad would still come to my show, but I did have a few fantasies of him showing up and realizing that photographs on the wall
weren’t
of him.

“Unfortunately, I can’t. I’m sorry, Kitsy, but I have a contract meeting about the song.” I can’t read his eyes. “I’m sure your project came out great though. What did you decide to do it on?”

“What do you mean?” I ask with a half grin. I never told Tad how I switched portfolio subjects.

He loops his arm in mine and pulls me over to get a closer look at the view.

“I knew that you would eventually find something else that would be more Kitsy,” Tad says.

“You’re right,” I admit. “My project is on Broken Spoke. There’s nothing like your hometown, right?”

Looking down at the city below us, Tad nods his head in agreement.

“My hometown is pretty awesome,” he says, gesturing around to the spectacular view.

“Okay, okay, there’s nothing like
New York
,” I correct myself.

Tad shakes his head and turns to face me. “There’s nothing like Broken Spoke either, Kitsy. Just because you’re from a small town doesn’t mean that you’re small. Don’t ever think anyone’s more important than you are or has more valid experiences.”

“For a while,” I admit, “I do think I was worried about that, but I’ve realized there’s something special about making art that reflects you and where you came from.”

“I totally agree,” Tad says, nodding. “Trust me, I’ve done enough cover songs to know that the best kind of music to play is your own. I’m finished singing other people’s songs. I told the guys to go on tour without me so I can focus on my writing. I’ve got to admit that you’ve helped me refocus my energy. There are people here for both the right and wrong reasons. You helped me reevaluate mine.”

Goose bumps grow on my arm, and not from the breeze. “I have a question. When something happens to you, do you think about how to use it in a song?”

Tad points toward the view. “When I look at anything,” he says, “all I see are notes and lyrics. I bet you see everything in angles and colors.”

“I like that,” I say and mime taking pictures. I realize if I learned anything this summer, it was to trust my own artist’s eye.

Tad sighs. “Whatever guy that ends up with you, Kitsy, is lucky. I just want you to know that. I love how you see this city, but even more, I love how you see people.”

“Thanks, Tad,” I say. Maybe I didn’t imagine
everything
between us, but I’m still happy that nothing actually happened. I want to remember this summer as being about art, this city, and me.

“Hey, Tad. Can you do me a favor?” I ask, pulling out my phone. “I want a picture of me here for my little brother.
King Kong
is his all-time favorite movie.” I know my camera’s phone won’t do the view justice, but I’ll make sure to describe to Kiki just how amazing it was.

“Sure,” Tad says and snaps a photo of me. He looks at the image on my camera a long time before he finally hands it back to me. Maybe he’s trying to figure out where I fit into his life.

When we get on the elevators, I turn to Tad and say, “If you’re ever coming through Texas, look me up.”

“Are you on Facebook?” Tad asks. “I feel lame-o even asking that.”

“Let’s leave it up to chance,” I say as we step back out onto the ground level. I’m only a little bit dizzy.

“Good-bye, Kitsy Kidd,” he says as we near a crosswalk. “I hope you make it back to New York soon. You definitely added something to my city.”

“That’s my plan,” I say, realizing that I
can
do something if I work at it. I made it here once, so I definitely think I can do it again.

Tad gives me a quick hug and one last smile; then he gets swept up in a crowd crossing the street. I can’t spot him any longer so I don’t even know if he’s looking back at me. I’m still not sure why Tad came into my life or what he means to me. Some things I’ve learned are only clear in reverse. Of course, Hollywood never tells you this. If this were a movie, I’d end up with a guy, but this isn’t the story of a girl and two guys. There’ll be no credits because the truth is that this is the middle—not the end—of my story.

(On the back of one of my photographs of the Statue of Liberty)

Dear Dad,

This is a picture I took. Yup, I made it to NYC—just like we talked about. Cool, huh? I’ve also resolved to stop running from anything anymore—the past or the truth. I hope that you’re okay and that you stop running one day, too. You know where to find us.

Love,

Kitsy

Chapter 16
Que Será Será

W
HEN
I
WAKE UP ON
Friday, it feels like everything is both happening and ending at the same time. Maybe that’s what growing up feels like. By this time tomorrow, Corrinne will be home from camp, school will be over, the scholarship will be awarded, and I’ll need to start packing to head home to the Spoke.

After I hang my photographs in the school’s art gallery, I run home—literally. It’s strange how I find myself calling the Corcorans’ apartment “home” now. But who says you can’t have more than one place where you feel like you belong? Luckily, I’m wearing my tennis shoes, so I make it to the apartment’s courtyard just as Ivan’s town car is pulling up. As it turns out, Waverly is waiting for Corrinne, too. I guess if you can have two places that feel like home, you can have two best friends—two very
different
best friends.

When Corrinne rolls out of the car, both Waverly and I gasp a little bit. She’s wearing a pair of grass-stained jeans, a T-shirt that reads
CAMP HOPE: WHERE NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE
, and her hair is either very messily braided or matted to her head.

“Um, what happened?” Waverly asks as she gives Corrinne a side-hug.

I go for the full bear hug since I’m already sweaty and I’m just happy to see her. I don’t care what she looks like. I just know I’ve missed Corrinne so much.

“I had the best time of my life. That’s what happened,” Corrinne says, then gestures to Waverly and me. “Well, minus my times with you girls, of course. Those memories are priceless, too.”

“Earth to Corrinne! I repeat:
What happened
to you?” Waverly asks again. “You look like you lost a battle with a circus.”

Corrinne laughs. “I think you’re referring to a rodeo, Waverly. And basically, I did. I had to rush from the campers’ award ceremony at the horse ring straight to the car to make sure I made Kitsy’s event. Do I look like I’ve been crying?” Corrinne asks.

“About what? Your reflection?” Waverly asks seriously. “It’s okay. I can work some of my style magic on you. You should’ve
seen
the number I did on Kitsy!”

Maybe I will just have to go into fashion with Ford. Seeing the look on Waverly’s face at our debut fashion show at Lincoln Center would make it all worth it.

Corrinne rolls her eyes at Waverly. “No, Waverly. I’m a wreck because I bawled all the way home after saying good-bye to my campers. Seeing kids who have disabilities get up on a horse for the first time is amazing.” She looks down at her outfit and adds, “As for my clothes, you’re right, I need a serious wardrobe change, stat. If I don’t wear jeans and a T-shirt ever again, it’ll be too soon. Oh, and at camp everyone wore these
hideous
beaded bracelets. I ‘accidentally’ left mine behind
.
”

Waverly and I both laugh.

“We’ll have a Bloomie’s date soon. I need to hear about the hot cocounselor! Did you guys make out in a teepee?” Waverly teases before moving to the front door. “It’s too hot for me outside, so I’ll get the details later.”

“Wait, Corrinne,” I say, confused. “I thought you were at horse camp doing that horse dancing thing.”

“Dressage?” Corrinne asks. “No, it wasn’t a dressage camp at all. I helped kids with physical and mental disabilities learn how to ride.”

“How come I didn’t know that?” I ask her, genuinely curious why she didn’t tell me.

“Because you were busy following your dream,” Corrinne tells me with a hand squeeze. She takes one enormous bag from Ivan and hands another monster one to me. “I’ll tell you
all
about it later. I must say it’s awesome to have a bunch of little kids listen to your every word and tell you how they want to be you. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I found myself thinking about being a teacher!”

“
Really?
” I ask with an incredulous smile, trying to imagine Corrinne with a room full of screaming kindergartners and finger paint. But then I remember how Corrinne’s always supported my art dream, so I add, “That’s so great.”