Lost in New York

An explanation to you dear reader. The broken English was intentional and I make no apologies. I was once a bilingual child and grammar wasn't as nearly as important to then as getting my point across.

An apology, to anyone that reads or speaks Polish. I do not and it may become painfully obvious that I used the Internet to translate many of the words and phrases. It's on me if they're confusing or outright incorrect. I did my best to convey my meaning. I hope you can look past that and enjoy the story.

Dla Ewy...

* * * * *

She caught my eye as I walked passed. The young woman seemed rigid, her shoulders squared and back straight. She looked out at the cold spring rain beating on the pavement. I took the table next to hers, as I turned I saw her shoulders shudder, goosebumps rose along her arms. She wore a sleeveless dress which would be fine for a sunny day at this time of the year, but the cold rain made it chilly even indoors. She didn't appear to have a coat or sweater. I stood and removed my coat.

"Excuse me Miss. I don't want to appear forward but you seem to be very cold. Please take my coat while you enjoy your coffee."

She looked up at me, the café light lit her bright eyes. She stared a moment as if she hadn't understood and just shook her head gently. She was absolutely ravishing. She peered up at me from an arched brow, a slight crease in the center indicated a lack of understanding. She had gray eyes, like the sky during a storm. Her lips were full and soft pink, and they parted as her brow drew together. The only detraction to her appearance was the redness in her eyes and the dark circles below.

"Please, I insist. You're shivering, and as you can see I'm dressed for the weather." I slipped the coat between her and the chair and laid it across her shoulders and her eyes half closed as the latent warmth soaked into her. She looked up at me, a small smile appeared on her lips.

"Thank you." She said, her voice was soft and heavily accented.

"You're very welcome." I wondered at the accent but didn't want to seem rude to ask where she was from. Foreign accents are hardly unusual in New York City what with it being the melting pot and tourist destination that it is.

I sat and her face filled my mind. It was an almost perfect oval, those bright eyes shone from a distinct brow, her nose straight and narrow, her lips full, and a pointed chin with the slightest dimple. Her smile had brightened her visage, bringing her eyes to narrow slits and a dimple to her cheek too. I put her out of mind for the moment and placed my order for coffee and a cinnamon scone before diving into the notes I'd brought for my meeting. I accepted a refill on my coffee and the waitress took the empty plate and wandered off. I used the bathroom to wash up before leaving and came back to my table to find the table next to mine cleaned and the young lady gone, along with my coat. I sat and flagged down the waitress to see if she'd left it with them, she had not.

"Do you know her?" The waitress appeared annoyed.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"She stiffed me on the bill." The waitress added, understandably angered.

"How much was it? I'll cover it."

"I should have spotted her for a runner, but thanks."

"What did she have? It can't be that bad."

"Just coffee."

I insisted on covering it and paid my own bill leaving her enough to cover the girls coffee as well. I only wish I hadn't lost the things in my coat. I wasn't so attached to the coat itself by it had some mail and a few twenty dollar bills tucked into the inside pocket. A necessary habit I'd picked up while living in the city was to never have all my eggs in one basket. It was only emergency pin money, nothing more, and she was welcome to it. She looked like she might need it more than I did, considering I was about to go sign the contract to publish my latest book. I picked up my things and made it out into the cold, hoping the mist wouldn't ruin my sweater. My meeting concluded and I made my way home by the subway.

* * * * *

I wouldn't have any more classes until the fall, giving me more time to work on my next book. I had a slew of material I'd cached from a recent trip to the UK. I'd been putting the information together in the living room of my small Manhattan apartment and it looked rather like a bomb had gone off. Notebooks piled on the coffee table, my laptop open in the middle, papers strewn next to it.

I put on the kettle, having picked up on the habit of afternoon tea after my many trips to the UK and Ireland over the past few years. I started digging into my work, reading and taking notes. The window light had begun to wane so I turned on a lamp and made another cup of tea. The buzzer rang and I looked at the clock wondering who it could be at this hour. I went to the intercom and answered.

"Mister Christopher Wilson?" The voice came through with a halting accent.

"Yes?"

"I have coat. I have, your coat." She repeated. I realized that it must be the young woman from the coffee shop and immediately pressed the button to let her in. I met her at the stairs she stood at the bottom looking like nothing more than a very soggy, stray kitten.

"Hello. Come on up." I waved her up the stairs as she pulled the lapels of my drenched coat together. She stopped a few steps short of the landing, naked fear in her eyes.

"I no thief." She declared with more tenacity than necessary.

"Well the waitress at the coffee shop didn't agree but I covered that." I said offering a smile and extended my hand. I thought she misunderstood and reached to take the coat off and I waved her off and took her hand gently pulling her up the last few steps. "Come in, you look colder now than you did before."

She walked into the apartment just far enough for me to close the door. She peeled the wet coat off and I got a good look at her as she held it out. I took it and hung it over the hook behind the door which caused her to dodge into the corner to avoid me. The dress, once pretty, was dirty in spots along with her shoes and legs. I was fairly certain she was recently homeless. She had a defiant look in her eye.

"You found me by the letters in the pocket I assume?"

She nodded. "I pay back money, soon."

"It was just a cup of coffee, it was my pleasure."

She shook her head and tapped her chest, then turned and reached into the coat where I had kept the extra few twenties for emergencies. There was a neatly folded wet bill and a few crumpled ones.

"I find, buy food." She handed me the wet bills which I laid aside on the table to dry. A quick glance at what was left and I wondered what she had eaten in this neighborhood that only had cost about eight dollars. I wasn't worried about the money and was about to tell her so when I looked up and saw her expression twist up, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

I brought her in and sat her on a chair and went to the linen closet and brought her a towel to dry off with.

"What is your name?" She looked frightened to tell me but eventually replied.

"Margo Nowak." She added her last name after a pause. I went and found a quilt in the closet and brought it out and thought better of using it.

"Well Miss Nowak rather than soil a perfectly good quilt I'm thinking you might warm up a little more quickly in a bath or shower. Would you like to wash up?"

She looked apprehensive, but despite her fear she nodded. I showed her to the bathroom and set out a clean towel for her. After she closed the door I went to the bedroom and dug through the dresser drawers for sweatpants, a t-shirt and sweatshirt. I knocked on the bathroom door but heard nothing but the spray of the shower. I opened the door just far enough to set the clothes on the washstand and closed it.

"Thank you." She said surprising me as I put a fresh kettle on next to a simmering pot of soup. I turned to see her in my bulky college sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up, the sweat pants bunched up around her ankles. She looked much more relaxed, her hair still wet but clean.

"I was just going to make us some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches to go with the soup. You look like you could use another feeding."

She nodded vigorously a slight smile crossed her lips as she watched me assemble them and warm the pan. Being a bachelor I was pretty adept at grilled cheese. She leaned in and peeked into the soup pot and smiled.

"Pomidor?"

"Tomato, yes." I said recognizing the word. "Where are you from Margo? Your name sounds Eastern European, and I think your accent gives you away."

"I from Poland." Her smile was warm. She leaned against the door jamb with her arms crossed as she watched me cook. I ladled up two mugs of the soup and cut the grilled cheese in half and placed them on plates placing it all on a tray.

"Unfortunately I have no dining table so we'll be forced to relax on the sofa while we eat." She dodged out of the way and followed me like a puppy following its dinner bowl. I went to set the tray down and stopped. She understood and carefully gathered the papers and stacked them on the other side of the coffee table. She sat in the chair and I at the end of the sofa. She waited to be served rather than jump at the food.

"Why you kind to me?"

I grinned at the thought. "I think your understanding of English is better than your speech, that's not a criticism mind you, just an observation. So I will tell you a little story. I travel for my work and once when I was in trouble in the far north of Scotland. I asked an old man, who took me in and helped me, the very same question you just asked me. He reminded me of a passage in the Bible that spoke of treating strangers with hospitality for they may be angels in disguise."

"You think me angel?" She sipped her soup straight from the mug, the heat visibly relaxing her.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't want to take a chance and be wrong when it cost me so little effort to do so."

She looked around at the large book case and the piles of work she'd moved. "You are ah..." Her face screwed up as she looked for the word.

"I'm a university professor and an author."

She locked onto that word and her mouth dropped open. "You author?"

I nodded.

"What book?"

I gave her a short run down on the few textbooks I'd written and the two non-fiction novels I'd written and the one I was working on now. She seemed impressed as she made short work of the sandwich. She crossed her legs beneath her and leaned back, probably the most comfortable I'd seen her yet. She rubbed her stomach and puffed out her cheeks. I laughed at her and it caused her to giggle as well.

"What brings you to New York Margo?"

Her brows furrowed and her jaw tightened. "Lie." She didn't elaborate right away and was physically angered, but got her emotions under control before responding. "Man say I make lot of money, come with him, be model. I come and he pay for..." she pantomimed an airplane, "fly. When I get here, he want me do more than model. He tell me I owe for trip and when I say no, he attack me."

The shock must have been apparent from my expression.

"I fight him, I run."

"When was this? Were you the only one he brought? Does he still have your things, your passport?"

She looked down at the table. He could see her lips moving silently. "Four day? He have clothes. I no give passport. He want. He bring only me." She went to where she'd stashed her small pocketbook and pulled it out holding up the red cover with a heraldic eagle in gold.

"Smart girl." I nodded.

She brought her bag back to the table and pushed the tray aside and counted out a mix of Euros and another currency, and by my accounting she had probably about twenty dollars worth of foreign currency to her name. She slid it towards me and I shook my head.

"Angels don't owe for hospitality." I pushed it back to her. "Besides you'll need it for the trip home." I bit my tongue. "Do you have someone to go home to Margo? Family I mean."

She nodded. "Parents. I go back to university, not believe man who tell me I pretty again." Her brow furrowed again and I bit my lip to keep from laughing because she looked like an adorable yet furious kitten.

"So you're a student. What year?"

"I finish two year university."

"So you'll be a junior. What are you studying?"

She nodded at my laptop. "Astronomy and computer. I want work ESA or NASA." She smiled.

"We are made of star stuff." I said.

She clapped her hands, her grin had gotten even bigger. "Carl Sagan! Cosmos my favorite." She patted her chest to indicate herself.

I piled the dishes on the tray and took them into the kitchen, setting them on the counter. Margo followed and saw I was about to give them a rinse and sidled along side me.

"I clean."

"It's okay, I'll do it."

"No. Angel help." She tapped her chest. She turned the faucet on and took the bottle of dish soap. I stepped around her and stood in the door way watching her. She pushed the arms of the sweatshirt up and they slipped back down. She reached for the hem and whipped it off over her head and through the magic of static electricity, the t-shirt went with it. She stood there topless, her figure was slim but very feminine, her breasts were small, the nipples hardened in the cool air. Her ribs were too pronounced, probably from going hungry for a few days. I didn't even think to avert my gaze as she handed me the sweatshirt, and peeled the t-shirt clear, the static crackling as she did and slipped it back over her head. From my travels I was aware of European attitudes and how they differed greatly from Americans on the subject of nudity. She seemed indifferent to the fact that she'd just flashed her breasts at me and began washing the dishes, placing them in the drying rack as she did. She finished up in quick order, cleaning the pot and pan as well. When dry she reached for the sweatshirt which I'd thrown over my shoulder and pulled it back on.

"I see if dry."

"Oh that's right. We should put your clothes through the wash, you looked a little worse for wear when you got here."

"I wash already."

She had washed her clothes in the shower with her which made me want to laugh, but then I remembered that necessity is the mother of invention and she'd been living on the street for a few days now. She had even scrubbed her shoes clean but everything was still wet.

"Why don't you leave them to dry. You can stay here tonight and we'll figure out what to do in the morning. I can look up the Polish consulate and we can see what your options are."

She looked concerned. "No deport."

"No, no deport. How long is your visa? Do you remember?"

"I do not know." She got her passport and flipped it to the page. She only had an older stamp from Germany and a recent stamp where they had stopped over in Amsterdam and left the airport for the afternoon. I looked at the stamp and date and noted it was about six days old.

"This is a B-2 tourist stamp." I grabbed my laptop and looked it up and found that it was for up to six months, but the holder is not allowed to work in the United States. I informed her that he had brought her here under false pretenses and if she had worked and gotten paid she might have ended up in trouble.

"He take money." She pointed at the laptop and at herself and I handed it over to her.

"No funny business now. I laughed. She went to the browser and opened up and found a translation app and began typing.

"He said he would pay me when we got back home." Came up in the English translated box.

"So he was going to house and feed you while you were here and pay you later? That sounds very suspicious."

"I no smart." She scolded herself for her gullibility.

"Yes you are. You got away from him, and you're safe, but he does have your things. Does he have your return ticket or anything you can't replace?"

She thought a moment. "Clothes, makeup, I leave computer home." She began typing owing to the frustration of thinking of what she wanted to say and translating it in her head. A new line popped up in the translation box. "We were going to buy cell phones here to use. He has my cell and my clothes."

"So you're only out a bag of clothes, some makeup and a prepaid cell phone?"

She nodded. "We only to be here a few weeks. He say we see city too." Her expression darkened again in silent anger.

"We can do that, but I think the first thing we need to do is get you something a little heavier to wear than that dress. This has been a cold, rainy spring and it doesn't seem to be getting better. It's Saturday tomorrow we can go find you something else to wear."

"I no money." She said, putting her hand to her chest.

"I have enough money to help you out. We won't be shopping on Fifth Avenue though." I said smiling.

She grinned. "No Chanel?"

"We'll see what we can find." I laughed.

It was still early and since I had let Margo on my laptop I'd lost it for the evening so I read a little more, inquiring occasionally as she made a noise about something she saw online.

I grabbed a blanket and pillow from the closet and made up the sofa. We'd argued about who was going to be the one to sleep on it. She used simple logic pointing out she was much smaller and would fit more comfortably between the arms. I didn't disagree, having fallen asleep on it before and woken cramped. I pushed the sheet in around the cushions and fluffed up the pillow and laid out the blanket. I wished her goodnight and began to turn and she took my arm, pulled it downward and stretched to kiss me on the cheek.

"I no angel. You angel." She smiled up at me and I left her to sleep. I got undressed and ready for bed as I realized the sofa was likely the closest thing to a bed she'd slept in for the past few days.

I woke and rolled over, my leg bumping Margo's where she sat cross-legged on the corner of the bed. She smiled and blew gently across the top of a coffee cup.

"Dobry poranek." She smiled before translating. "Good morning."

"Good morning. Dobry poranek?" I mimicked her speech making her smile widen. She nodded.

"Kawa?" She held the cup out to me and I sat up against the headboard. She leaned forward handing me the cup and I sipped cautiously from it. I nearly choked when I noticed she had removed the sweatpants and was sitting there in only the t-shirt which had risen to her hips from the way she sat cross-legged. I didn't linger but I noticed a thin layer of dark curls shaped in a narrow triangle.

"Thanks."

She smiled. "Dzięki."

"Dzięki." I repeated. She corrected me and I said it again until she was satisfied.

"Jajka? Um, egg?" She mimed scrambling an egg. I nodded and she hopped off the bed, the shirt fell back into place around her thighs. She turned and grinned and tugged the blanket off of me showing a large tent in my shorts. She said something in Polish as she left the room laughing.

She started rummaging around in the kitchen and I made my way to the bathroom for a little relief and a quick shower. I was drying off when she tapped on the door.

"Breakfast ready." I donned my robe and went out to where she'd laid it out on the coffee table. She had outdone herself finding all of that in my kitchen. She'd added herbs to the eggs as well as diced up ham, next to them were apple slices and another cup of coffee. "Sit." I did as requested and she handed me the plate and a fork. She hopped up and went into the kitchen, a sudden sway to her backside as she walked. She was average height but her legs were long and slim and I could easily see her being a model. She came back with salt and pepper setting them on the tray and giving her eggs a dose of both before picking up her plate.

"You look." She said grinning.

I wasn't sure what exactly she meant and my expression must have given me away.

"Before, on bed." She reached for the hem of the t-shirt and gave it a little lift and let it drop.