Free Falling in Love by Stephen Bradlee Page A

Washington Bridge, I began reciting an Emily Dickinson poem. “ Two butterflies went out at noon and waltzed above a stream. Then stepped straight through the firmament and rested on a beam. ”
     
    The cheapest room I found was in a women’s only hotel in Greenwich Village with the shower and toilet in the hallway. I hoped that the money I had saved while working for Paul would last me until I got a job. I made the rounds of temp agencies, offering my meager office experience. But filing and light typing in Rosebud, Indiana, didn’t make much of an impression in the Big Apple. I thought of mentioning that I had worked for Paul as a legal secretary but I was petrified that someone might call him for a reference.
    Within a week I was out of money. I was so depressed that every night I went out drinking and every morning I ended up in a strange apartment. I wasn’t sure why I was paying rent when I rarely slept in my room. But somehow giving up my room and living from guy to guy didn’t seem to be moving in the right direction. My new life was beginning to look a lot like my old life.
    I decided to sell my car. I couldn’t afford a garage and parking on the street was a real pain. I drove out to Queens and took whatever some dealer gave me. How I intended drive to California without a car was something I hadn’t quite yet worked out.
    Soon, I was nearly out of that money. After applying at my seemingly hundredth temp agency, I was heading into an elevator when I heard someone yell, “Hold it! Okay?” I tried to push the right button to keep the door open but failed miserably. After sprinting down the hallway, a young woman slid to a stop in high heels in front of the elevator and quickly kicked up her leg as a wedge between the closing doors. They reopened and she joined me in the elevator.
    “Sorry,” I said, still staring at the array of buttons trying to determine which one would have parted the doors.
    “Not to worry,” she said. She was tall attractive brunette with a full-figured body, a regal air and carried one of the largest purses I’d ever seen. “I really don’t have to be anywhere for an hour. I just hate waiting. Right?”
    I shrugged in agreement, even though I really didn’t have that strong of an opinion regarding waiting for elevators.
    She stared closely at me. “You okay?”
    “Sure.”
    She kept staring at me and I began to feel uncomfortable. “Come on, really. What’s the problem?” she asked. When I didn’t answer, she added, “Look, I read people all day long and you’ve got a problem? Okay, so it’s none of my business but tell me anyway. We don’t know each other, right? So what have you got to lose, and maybe I have an answer?”
    “Are you an analyst?” I asked.
    She laughed. “An actor. Brimming with talent but still undiscovered so I play the role of legal secretary to pay the bills and I read people to help with my characters. And when I look at you, I’m reading a big problem.”
    “Well, I’m broke and can’t get a job,” I admitted, finally. “I’d love to be just a secretary, period.”
    “So be one. What’s the big deal?”
    “It’s not that easy.”
    “Of course it is. You’re beautiful. You’ve got a nice voice. So be a receptionist if you can’t type.” The elevator reached the bottom. “Come on. Let’s go have coffee. On me.”
    Suddenly, she was out of the elevator and halfway across the marble foyer as I stood dumbfounded in the elevator. She turned around. “You coming?”
    I tried following her as she effortlessly threaded though throngs of people that I subsequently bumped against. For someone who had no where to be for an hour, I couldn’t believe how fast she walked. I ended up at a window table in a gourmet coffee shop while she got our order. I had asked for coffee, thinking what else are you going to order in a coffee shop? But she returned with cappuccino, saying that I looked like I “needed a lift.” She had ordered chai