The Big City

“When we graduate, let’s just buy an RV and drive.”

Shelly looked at me uncertainly. I wasn’t joking.

I was fed up with school and I hated the idea of a desk job. Monotony. Routine. I wanted adventure. I wanted to be different. I looked up the prices–55k–not to bad. We could do it if we really wanted to.

Shelly and I never got that RV… probably for the best. But just about a year after I graduated high school, a good friend of mine moved to New York. He was majoring in something sensible and minoring in acting.

I had thought about L.A., but after learning more about the culture there vs. New York City, I felt the Big Apple was more fitting for me. Yes, I dreamed of big lights. Big, bright lights, with me right in the center. I wanted to entertain and astound people.

So I told Cato I would move to NYC with him. He was all about it. But he wasn’t going for acting until after he got his more sensible degree… whatever that was. We talked on the phone from time to time. He was very busy and told me about learning music and acting lessons and late night parties. “Everything moves very fast here,” he said.

“I can see you in New York!” the fortune-teller said, her eyes all a-glitter. “You will be poor, but happy,” this prediction came more calmly as she turned over the Sun card. But she was older and very fond of me. I could tell she wanted this for me, which meant the reading was subjective. Somewhere in my heart I knew it would never happen.

I heard from Cato less and less. He was always losing his phone and getting a new phone number. Then, over the course of several months I sent him email after email (usually the only way I could get in touch with him.) But he didn’t respond. I searched for him on facebook–nothing. I asked our high school friends but no one had heard from him. And neither did I… ever again.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Make It Anywhere.”


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