"Where to Miss?"

"Oh uh�" I reach in my pocket to try to find the address to my new home. An instant smile grows in my face as those words register, MY new home. "Uh�East 87th Street off York Avenue."

I�m silently applauding myself. As much as growing up sucks it gives you a sense of independence. As we are driving through the streets of Manhattan, I couldn�t help but feel this overwhelming happiness. Each corner that we�d turn had a different look and held different promise. The apartment buildings suddenly got unbelievably luxurious. There was a river that made your heart skip a beat, that would most definitely be the first thing I paint.

"Uh huh, here we are. Do you know the exact address?"

"Uh yeah�" I reach in my pocket. "Cambridge Lofts, sixth floor."

I again applaud myself. Yay me! I wasn�t surprised when we pulled into one of the top three most beautiful buildings on the street. Knowing my dad, this was my new home.

"Upper East Side, can�t get any better then this."

He stops and gets out of the car quickly. I look at his meter and begin to exit the cab while taking out the amount of money I needed. I watched as he took my bags out of the trunk.

"Would you like me to carry them up to your loft Miss?"

"Oh no it�s only three bags, I got it."

I reach out my hand and give him the cash. "Oh Miss, this is too much."

"Oh yeah it�s your tip."

"That�s quite a tip Miss."

I feel somewhat of an idiot because I had been so confident that I knew what the hell I was doing.

"Well�you were my first cab ride and you made it very nice so�you disserve it."

His smile brightness and so does mine.

"Thank you Ma�am."

I nod my head and turn to the loft. It was absolutely huge. I�ve lived in big places all my life but Jesus. I sigh deeply and pick up my bags suddenly realizing I have no upper body strength whatsoever.

It takes about ten minutes for me to finally get the elevator to work. As the elevator passes each floor I hear a different mix of sounds. On the forth floor I hear classical music and an older sounding man singing along�very loudly. As I pass the fifth floor I hear laughter. A man and a woman. As I creep to the sixth floor I hear nothing, silent. It stops and my whole body starts to tingle. I lift the gate and open the door.

I walk into the hall and look to the sides. Across from me there is one door and one door only. It is literally my hall. The hall is huge and I can just imagine the size of the actual loft itself. I see there is an envelope on the floor and bend down to pick it up. I open it to find a key and a letter from my father.

Britney,

I hope you enjoy the loft. The realtor said it is perfect to paint and do whatever you want. I hope it is as comfortable as home is. I love you. There is another envelope on the counter in the kitchen that holds a surprise.

Dad

I smile a sad smile hoping that he is not miserable, including since I�m so ecstatic. I take the key and squeeze it in my hand. I put it to the lock and unlock the door.

I close my eyes and push the door open. I don�t open my eyes and my smile grows bigger as I feel them etch open.

I gasp as my eyes grow big at the sight in front of me. I slowly step in, feeling if I step quicker I might fall over from shock.

It is completely wooden. The walls are littered with bricks and there are plantsare everywhere. It is huge. It reminds me of a cabin in Tahoe. There are vanilla candles on the counters.

I gasp again as I look at the windows. On each side of the loft there are two floor-to-ceiling windows that look over the East River and the entire city. I squeal as I come to the realization this is where I�m going to be living. I run into the bedroom and giggle in excitement. The master bedroom has exercise equipment, a bathroom with a spa the size of a pool and a bed that is hoisted on a platform to give the feeling of flying over the city due to the huge window.

Wondering around the house I find two other rooms. Tall ceilings, big windows. One room is another bedroom and the other has a huge amount of painting equipment. Something my dad set up no doubt. My loft is a dream. It�s a fuckin� dream.

My bags and belongings are mostly already put away. Most of my old furniture is set up but basically all new furniture.

I lay on the couch and sigh deeply. I look out to watch the sun slowly setting. I feel myself drift but refuse to fall asleep early on my first night in New York. I go to the kitchen and open each cubberd to find them fully filled. My eyes catch another yellow envelope. I open it quickly to find another set of keys and another letter.

Britney,

Check out the parking garage. Row C.

Dad

"Oh my God, no way!"

I grab the keys to the loft and run out. The elevator seems incredibly slow. My leg shakes impatiently as the little lighted numbers lands on G. I walk so fast that if there was a car coming around the corner, my first day in New York would turn out to be my last.

My eyes land on row C and trail down the line. A bit of worry rushes over me as I realize he didn�t give me a number of the parking place. The worry is quickly swiped away when my eyes land on a red Mercedes Benz with a red bow over it. I squeal and run to it. My hand covers my mouth to look less like an idiot due to my mouth gaping open.

"Oh God."

I open the car and step in. My head whips so fast around to explore it I fear whiplash. I stay in the car for a while taking in the site of my new car, my new home, my new life.

Being that the garage was on the other side of the building I thought I would explore the other side of the building. I found a doorman and introduced myself. I told him I was a new tenant and he congratulated me.

"You know the other side is the elevator, this side you have to walk up some stairs."

"Oh it�s okay, I wanted to explore the building."

"Oh in that case�"

He showed where to get my mail, where there was a subway if I ever needed it. He had a kind spirit and I had no one to talk to, it�s nice having someone to talk to. His name is Byron and he is a 62-year-old who has lived here since he was 2. I told him about my love for art and my acceptance to Columbia.

"We have a kid here, who guys to Columbia. Nice kid too."

"Oh yeah? Is he a painter?"

"I believe so." He opens the door for a tenant. Greets her and tips his hat to her. "He lives on the fifth floor. He�s a going to be a junior I believe. Nice kid."

I chuckle at his repetitiveness.

"His dad and mom died when he was young. They were both loaded so you can imagine how rich he is."

I nod my head as he explains.

"He doesn�t let it get to his head though. Very nice kid."

I chuckle again.

"Oh there is a coffee shop down the street, a lot of you artsy type people go there." He say.

"Thanks."

He was right about the elevator being more convenient then the stairs. The stairs were a bitch. Hey, I might as well get used to it, although I do have a car, I doubt I�ll use it other then comuting to school and late nights out. I smirk at the idea of me having a late night unless I was studying, but who knows. New city, new everything.

As I pass the fifth floor I look to his door. I look away and start walking when someone opens the door. It�s a girl. Dressed to kill. She walks out and brushes past me while adjusting her clothes.

I laugh and shake my head.

New York is entertaining.

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