Let’s do something more daring.” She pulled a printout of Lilah’s List from her pocket and studied it.
“Aha! Get a tattoo.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “I really don’t want a tattoo. And I’m certainly not ready for that one right now. Besides, I’ll need a couple of glasses of wine first. Or bottles…probably a whole barrel.”
Angie laughed, but continued to scan The List.
“Why don’t we go to the Statue of Liberty?” Lilah pressed.
“Okay, if not the tattoo then let’s visit a fortune-teller. She can tell you how this whole trip is going to turn out for you.”
“If I’m going to fail, do you think I really want to know today? My first full day in town?”
Angie looked exasperated. “You’re just full of excuses, aren’t you? You’re going to have to do all of these things eventually, remember? That’s why you’re here. What are you waiting for?”
“Can I help you ladies with something?” a female voice called.
Both women turned to see they were standing only a foot away from the front desk. The clerk had probably overheard their entire conversation.
“Yes,” Angie said.
“No thanks,” Lilah said.
But to Lilah’s horror, Angie was already smoothing the creased sheet out on the woman’s desk. “Do you know where we can find a fortune-teller?”
“Angie!”
“Hush, it’s either that or the tattoo shop.”
The fair redhead, whose nameplate read Maureen, swiveled to tap on her keyboard. “Sounds like you ladies are planning to really live it up while you’re in the city.”
“Yes, but I’m native and she’s visiting. This is her first real day here and we need an ice-breaker activity.”
Maureen looked up from the computer screen. “If you want to show your friend New York with a twist, you should try the Sex and the City tour. Visit all the hot spots where Carrie and the girls hung out on the show.”
“That sounds great, but the activity has to be from this list.” Angie casually held out The List as though she wasn’t baring Lilah’s private life to a stranger. “We’ve got two weeks before her thirtieth birthday to get the rest of this stuff done.”
Lilah was swinging back a pink Timberland to give Angie a warning kick when the clerk shrieked with delight.
“Oh, this is amazing. I’ve always wanted a life list. I just never took the time to write anything down.” Maureen gripped Angie’s wrist like an old girlfriend. “Does she actually know Reggie Martin?”
Lilah, who finally got tired of the two women talking about her as though she weren’t there, elbowed Angie aside before she could answer. “Yes, I do. We went to high school together, and I’m supposed to have dinner with him tonight.”
“That is a-maaa-zing!” Maureen shrieked again.
“You see. I think that’s traumatic enough for one day. So I thought my friend and I could go to the Statue of Liberty or ice skate at Rockefeller Center today. You know, to calm my nerves.”
Maureen reached over to grab a sheet of paper off her printer and handed it to Lilah. “No, you’ve got to see the fortune-teller. I don’t know much about this kind of stuff, but we had a lady staying here about two months ago that swore up and down this woman is the real deal. It’s a bit out of your way, but it could be worthwhile. Maybe she can point you in the right direction for your date with Reggie Martin.”
Angie smacked the desktop. “Maureen, you are a lifesaver.”
“Then you guys have got to come back here and tell me all about it. I’m off at six, but I’ll be back at the front desk all day tomorrow. I’ve just got to hear about the psychic and especially your date.”
Lilah felt heat rushing up her neck to flame her cheeks. “Well, if you’re really interested…”
“Oh, I am,” Maureen said. “A lot of people think you see it all working in the city, but to be honest with you, in a small hotel like this, most days are deadly dull.”
“Then you might want to check out my blog where I document my adventures with The List.”
Maureen eagerly took down the Web address and Lilah dragged Angie away from the desk before she could pull up the site.
As Angie looped her arm through Lilah’s and directed her toward the cab stand, Lilah said, “FYI, The List is private. I don’t want you flashing it around like it’s some free-for-all invitation to a keg party.”
“Uh, private? Once again, I’d like to remind you that you’re writing all about it for billions on the Web.”
“Once again, I’d like to remind you that I’ll never have to face those billions of strangers.”
“Look, you’re doing a really cool thing here. Most people are going to want to help you, not judge you.”
“I just don’t want to have to keep repeating the story for everyone we meet.”
“You need to change your attitude, Lilah. You’re going about this grudgingly instead of embracing it. That’s a setup for failure.”
“That’s not true—”
“Isn’t the point of all this to find yourself? To have all these experiences before you get too bogged down in adult life to enjoy it? If you’re going to approach each day like you did today, put yourself out of your misery and go back home.”
Lilah felt as though she’d been smacked in the face and didn’t say anything for several blocks as their cab flew through the streets of New York. Angie was a terminally upbeat person, so when Lilah received a lecture from her, it was a big deal.
The truth was she hadn’t entered this adventure with her heart in the right place. But she was investing a significant amount of time and money into this trip, so she knew she should try harder to stay focused.
The problem was that she didn’t know how to recapture the fearlessness of her youth. Now all she had were fears. Fear of making a fool of herself. Fear of failure.
Lilah had never imagined herself as someone who would one day be divorced. Yet, here she was.
Just look how horribly wrong things had gone when she was playing by the rules. She could only imagine how bad it could get without any.
As the taxi pulled up in front of a brownstone in a residential neighborhood, Angie and Lilah sat looking at each other.
Lilah leaned forward to the driver. “Sir, are you sure this is the right place?”
He pointed to the address on the building. “This is the location you gave me.”
Lilah had been expecting something more obvious. Something that shouted fortune-teller with capital letters. At the very least a neon sign in the window. The two women got out of the cab and climbed the stairs.
Lilah hesitated before ringing the doorbell. She elbowed Angie. “Do you think the concierge could have made a mistake and sent us to the wrong address?”
Angie shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out. Ring the bell.”
Lilah was still worried she was in the wrong place when a twelve-year-old Indian girl answered the door. Lilah looked down at her printout. “Hi, is Sushma Ghira here?”
The girl stepped back from the doorway, turning to shout into the hallway, “Mom, you have customers!”
They followed the girl into the living room and took seats on the sofa. No incense burning or colorful scarves draping a table with a crystal ball. It was a typical urban flat, bathed