Free Miles From Home by Ava Bell

computer.
    “Oh, yes, Ms. Taylor, she’s expecting you. Her office is the first one on the left.” She points her well-manicured finger towards a hallway.
    I smile and say, “Thank you.”
    The door to Marissa’s office is open and I go in. “Hi, I’m Maggie, you must be Marissa Brown,” I say, walking towards her desk.
    She stands and smiles. “Maggie, it’s so nice to meet you.” She points to the chair in front of her desk. “Please sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee?”
    “No, thank you.” I shake my head.
    “Well, let me get the papers for you to sign. I just need a few signatures and the keys are all yours.” She lays the lease agreement out on the desk in front of me.
    The studio apartment is eleven-hundred square feet. It was newly remodeled six months ago and is fully furnished with a large balcony overlooking a small park. I feel a sense of relief when she tells me there is a parking space that comes with it and I’m not surprised to see that the monthly rent is three-thousand a month, with a six-month lease and the option to extend it. Marissa had warned me that the majority of the apartments around Barnard College were fairly pricey, so I’m thankful my mother put my name on her trust fund before she passed away. My father was too proud to let her use it after they were married, so she specifically said in her will that it was to go to me.
    After I sign all the required papers and Marissa hands me the keys, I smile and shake her hand.
    “Thank you so much. I’m really excited to get moved in.” I pick up my purse and walk towards the door.
    “Good luck, Maggie. Enjoy the apartment,” she says. I turn and wave goodbye.
    When I unlock the door to my apartment and open it, I can’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration. I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, “Look, Mom, I made it!” I know she would be so proud of me. I close the door and float room to room, taking it all in. This will be my home for the next two years, maybe longer.
    It took me two days to get my apartment the way I wanted; bright curtains, a bright colorful comforter, and pillows to match. It was really starting to feel like home. Being a Texas girl, I never knew how difficult it would be to make friends here in New York City. Everyone is always in a rush to get somewhere. I had come to the conclusion that they just were too busy to form friendships, until I met Nadia. She moved in next door to me a week after I moved in and we quickly became friends. I felt so bad for her while I was sitting on my balcony the day she moved in. I saw that she was alone so I offered to help her. As we carried box after box to the elevator and up to the sixth floor, I couldn’t keep from staring at how beautiful she was. Her accent, dark brown eyes, and long shiny black hair made her look exotic, so one evening while we were sitting on her balcony having a glass of wine I asked her where she was from.
    “I’m from Morocco; I came here to work for my uncle who owns several boutiques here in New York City,” she said.
    “Wow, Morocco. That’s a long way from home. How do you like it here so far” I asked, listening to her replies, enjoying her accent.
    She smiles. “I love it. I love having my freedom. My family was wanting me to find a suitable man to marry and have children. I am not ready for that, so I came here to help.”
    I am very thankful to have her as a friend, especially being next door. We hang out a lot over the first several days.
    Over the next few weeks Nadia introduces me to some of her friends and co-workers. Debra is one of them. She and Nadia work at the boutique together, and since we are all around the same age, we have a lot in common. The three of us meet at a small coffee shop around the corner on the weekends, and on occasion, we go out to one of the bars close to the apartment for a drink. I really enjoy their company, but there are times I become depressed, thinking of Sam, and