Chapter Text
Manhattan was supposed to be temporary.
That was the plan, at least. After graduation, you packed your suitcases, duffle bags, and houseplants into a borrowed car and made your way here. Grad school was the only thing on your mind now. College keeps you busy; it’s hard to recall what the plan was, anyway, when you were too busy figuring out what came next. A master's in Public Health seemed like a reasonable way to buy time before whatever came next. You couldn’t deny you dreaded the inevitable job search, though. But you were ambitious and felt that the extra time in school would serve you well. Even if that meant you had to become a Columbia student to salvage your academic résumé.
Of course, your academic life wasn't the only thing keeping you busy. A few nights a week, you would trade your schoolwork for a work uniform. Slouched in the back of an ambulance, watching over the sick and tired with nothing to keep you up but Red Bull and whatever song your partner decided to play on aux that night. Becoming an EMT was definitely part of the plan, but you didn't expect the craziness that followed every shift. It still amazes you that you continue to put on your uniform, not knowing what to expect. As you and your partner weave through crowded Manhattan traffic, you never know if your next call is going to be mundane or some kind of trauma only found on the streets of the Big Apple. Even though you had been working for a few months, you had plenty of stories from working overnight shifts in Manhattan, a small handful being the aftermath of a particular web-slinger.
But regardless, you loved it.
You reveled in the chaos. Every street was comforting and alive with people. It was loud, strange, and unforgiving at times. That was New York, though. Exhausting and ridiculous in all of its glory. Despite everything, it was starting to feel like home.
You learned the city bit by bit, with the help of native friends, of course. You learned how to walk, blend in, which coffee shops had the best cheap coffee, how to befriend the habibis at your nearby bodega, and how to get by on crowded buses and train cars.
At this point, you were confident you could predict anything the city threw at you.
You’re not exactly sure why you chose New York, but you felt like this was the place to find yourself again. A piece of yourself was missing. In the city of new beginnings, you thought this was where you could finally become somebody. Sure, it was hard, but only a few months in, and you couldn’t be happier with your life in the city. It seemed the longer you stayed, the less you wanted to leave after all.
The sealing snap of your plastic Tupperware pulled you from your deep contemplation. You shoved your second dinner into your backpack. Yanking open the fridge, hoping to grab a chilled Red Bull for later, you make an audible wince at the state of its contents. It was sad. Sparsely filled with a nearly empty carton of eggs, the leftovers from a halal plate, half a bottle of Moscato, and half a tomato? The only thing you kept adequately stocked was Red Bull. If no one knew any better, they would assume your fridge belonged to a gym bro down on his luck.
“Fuck, I need groceries...” You mutter the obvious to yourself. Thank God payday is tomorrow.
You made a mental note of the new task added to next day’s agenda. Reaching for a Red Bull, stuffing it into your bag before swiftly closing the fridge door. You didn’t know how much longer you could stare at it without feeling a little embarrassed. From there, you follow your usual routine: grabbing your phone and keys, then running through a mental checklist of everything you need for your shift.
You look across your studio apartment; it was, by all means, cheap in terms of New York standards. It had a full kitchen and bathroom, but the living space was small. Your couch sat a few feet away from your bed, placed near the patio door. A questionable choice for sure, but you had the conscience to install door blinds. After a few months of living here, you made it yours, and it was your home away from home.
House plants grew up the sides of the windows, climbing towards the direction of natural light. Plush throw pillows adorned the edges of your couch and your matching coffee table had an assortment of knick-knacks and textbooks you carelessly used as coasters. A small dining table sat just out of sight behind the kitchen bar. It was rarely used by you, but was perfect for sharing meals with your friend when she came over to visit.
A glance across the studio confirmed you had everything you needed for your shift. You reached for a pair of earbuds hiding in the endless array of pockets on your work pants, swiftly pulling one out of its charger and into your ear. You spent a bit too long looking for a good song before making your way to your front door.
You couldn’t explain it, but you felt like something about tonight’s shift would be different. As you stepped out into the heart of Harlem, your stomach felt like it was in a twist. Not in a sick or dreadful way, but you were anticipating that something would change.
You didn’t know for certain, but you knew you could handle anything this city threw at you.