Arrival

It was a cold, dark, rainy night that greeted me as I exited the terminal. I took a taxi from the airport to the Upper West Side, and was both relieved and disappointed that the taxi screen made it difficult to converse with the driver. Luckily 30 Rock was paying on the flat screen in the back – a good sign!

My flight over had consisted of back-to-back movies, snacking, and sideways glances as the cute guy covered in tattoos on the seats opposite me. I figured he must be from a famous band in LA, as he had the whole middle row to himself.

It was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that kept creeping into my mind. Why was the live-in-carer not letting me speak to my great-aunt Ada? What did she mean when she was saying Ada was ‘mis-behavin!’? Did my aunt not want me to stay with her in NY? Was she doing a take back? Where would I sleep tonight?

The taxi pulled up, and I tipped generously as a scared tourist does, when over compensating for a lack of mathematical ability. It turns out the cute tattoo boy, whom I stalked through customs in LA, is a Canadian citizen and a slow walker. (the worst kind.)

The door to the apartment was ajar, and I walked in to find my great-aunt sitting on her chair. She seemed unchanged since the last time I saw her. Glamorous white hair down to her shoulders, one eye enlarged and droopy, black stockings with a white nightie and several strings of beads. She looked confused, but smiled and greeted me warmly. I told her who I was, and she registered, then immediately forgot. It took a good ten minutes of explaining and yelling from Jean, the beautiful big carer from Trinidad, to get her to understand.

I sat with Ada and talked (which meant having the same conversation over and over and over) until she fell asleep. Later Jean came over, smiled her huge set of glowing white chompers at me and laughed. “Let me tell you about Ada!” she said.