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“I’ve been telling him to make sure to close it, but he seems to leave it open every time he goes up on the roof.”
“The roof!”
Braden smacked his forehead. “I kind of forgot the best part, didn’t I? Come on, let me show you.”
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Dorian said as he approached the window and pulled it all the way open. “Perhaps avoid looking down, if so?”
“I’m not afraid,” I said, but as they stepped out the window and onto the fire escape I began to second guess myself. The metal of the fire escape shifted under Dorian’s weight, and beyond that was open air and a 60 foot drop to the garden. They climbed the fire escape out of sight, and I didn’t want to seem afraid, so I swallowed any fear of the height and followed them. My feet banged on the metal as I clutched the railing and climbed up the side of the building.
I kept my eyes firmly in front of me until I finally stepped out onto the solid footing of the roof. My gaze slowly rose, and with it my breath caught in my throat.
The city skyline glowed with lights all around me. Rarely had I seen a view of the city from the middle of it, and it made all the difference in the world. My eyes were immediately drawn to the west, where the treetops of Central Park were visible in the gaps between buildings. I turned to the south, where the taller skyscrapers of lower Manhattan reached to the night sky like glowing yellow fingers clawing at the stars. The very tip of the Empire State Building poked above it all.
“There it is,” Braden said.
“What?” I asked, wondering what building he was talking about. But he was pointing at me.
“That look. Everyone we bring up here has that same look on their face.”
“I’m… I’m literally speechless,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”
Dorian spread his arms like he was trying to give the city a hug. “When words cannot suffice, then say nothing! Instead, merely smile and enjoy the view.”
I did. We stood there in silence as I savored the city. It looked so different from here than it did on the ground, or back at my apartment in Queens. Like the poor saw a different version of things than the rich.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving,” Braden said, breaking the silence.
“The extra practice before the real rehearsal is what did it,” Dorian agreed. “Let’s get it ordered. What kind of Chinese food do you like?”
“Chinese?”
“Oh,” Braden said, suddenly embarrassed. “We always get Chinese food on Thursdays. I hope that’s okay.”
“Dude,” I said as we went back to the fire escape. “There’s nothing more okay in the world. I could murder a plate of pork fried rice right now.”
13
Nadia
Braden ordered food while Dorian gathered his belongings to move from the fourth to the third floor. “I’m really sorry for kicking you out,” I said while lingering in the doorway.
“Bedrooms are overrated,” Dorian declared with gusto. “I sleep there during the night, and spend the rest of my time at work, or rehearsing, or in one of the other rooms. There might as well be 20 people in there for all it matters to me!”
“Well, at least let me help you move,” I offered.
“I will gladly take you up on that.”
We moved his clothes from the dresser and closet, then carried his framed pictures from his bedside table. One photo showed Dorian standing with an older man in front of a theater curtain. They both wore shirts and ties.
“Is this you and your father?” I asked. The older man looked strangely familiar.
Dorian chuckled. “You don’t recognize him? You’re going to lose your theater cred.”
I squinted at the photograph. My jaw dropped. “That’s Andrew Lloyd Webber!”
“Ta-da,” Dorian said with a snap of his fingers. “He was in the audience for opening night of Mamma Mia three years ago. He was nice enough to take photos with everyone in the cast. Charming man.”
“I would have been star-struck!” I said. “He wrote my favorite musical of all time.”
