Chapter 9 - The Emergency Exit
Spring returned to New York with warm breezes, white cherry blossoms in Central Park, and clear blue skies over Queens.
On a bright Saturday afternoon in May, I stood on the balcony of the two-bedroom apartment in Astoria.
The air smelled of fresh river breeze and blooming lilac from the garden below. Inside, the living room had been completely renovated: new oak floors, fresh cream paint, modern recessed lighting, and my father’s hand-carved mahogany bookshelves, restored to a deep, golden shine.
My mother sat in a cozy velvet armchair near the window, sipping chamomile tea and watching television on her new flat screen.
There were no three flights of stairs anymore. During the winter, using the money I had saved from cutting Julian out of my life, I had hired a contractor to install a private residential chair-lift along the internal stairwell of the two-family building, allowing my mother to glide effortlessly from the front entrance right up to her front door.
A gentle knock sounded at the apartment door.
I opened it to find Leo holding two large bakery boxes from the Italian pastry shop down the street.
"Cannoli delivery for the true queen of Astoria," Leo grinned, stepping inside and handing me a box.
"Leo!" Mom called out happily from the living room. "Come sit down! Mara made fresh coffee!"
Leo walked in, kicking off his shoes, looking around the bright, beautiful apartment. "God, Mara, this place looks incredible. You could get two million for this on the open market right now."
I walked over to the window, leaning against the wooden frame my father had sanded with his own hands thirty years ago.
"I'm never selling it," I smiled, looking out over the quiet Queens street toward the Manhattan skyline glittering in the distance.
May you like
"Good," Leo said, joining me at the window with a cannoli. "It’s a great apartment."
"It's more than an apartment, Leo," I murmured softly. "It's my emergency exit."
