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What Happens in New York

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Kristina Adams

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“Christian looked at him earnestly. “Does it look OK?” The cut had been impulsive, which wasn’t something Christian was, really. But Eddie stopped fussing and looked like he was raging some internal battle. “Chrissy, you’re killing me here. I’ll say this only once, so listen clearly. You’re beautiful. Not in a ‘Christina Aguilera power song’ kind of way, but in a male model, hot boy fantasy kind of way. Now, don’t ask me again, or I’ll make a fool of myself.”

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“She came down to my dorm that night, knocking on the door around nine o'clock. Martha was at the library, and I was eating graham crackers and reading 'Glamour'. She didn't wait for me to open the door but turned the knob herself and stepped inside. Seeing her in the threshold was both surprising and perfectly natural - since I'd left her classroom, my head had been pretty much continuously buzzing with pieces of my conversation, and her presence felt merely like the physical manifestation of what I'd already been imagining. "I'm not onterrupting, am I?" she said. I stopped chewing. "No." "Here's what I want." I could feel the energy coming off her body - she'd had an idea, she'd decided something, she'd walked briskly through the cold air across campus - and how it contrasted with my own inertia, my bad posture, the crumbs dusting the front of my shirt. I sat up straighter. "I want you to cut my hair, " she said. "I'll give you a grade for it. And that's how you can make up the paper. Whatever grade I give you for the haircut replaces the F". I looked at her and felt suddenly, extremely tired. "How's that for a deal?" she said.”

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“She came down to my dorm that night, knocking on the door around nine o'clock. Martha was at the library, and I was eating graham crackers and reading 'Glamour'. She didn't wait for me to open the door but turned the knob herself and stepped inside. Seeing her in the threshold was both surprising and perfectly natural - since I'd left her classroom, my head had been pretty much continuously buzzing with pieces of my conversation, and her presence felt merely like the physical manifestation of what I'd already been imagining. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" she said. I stopped chewing. "No." "Here's what I want." I could feel the energy coming off her body - she'd had an idea, she'd decided something, she'd walked briskly through the cold air across campus - and how it contrasted with my own inertia, my bad posture, the crumbs dusting the front of my shirt. I sat up straighter. "I want you to cut my hair, " she said. "I'll give you a grade for it. And that's how you can make up the paper. Whatever grade I give you for the haircut replaces the F". I looked at her and felt suddenly, extremely tired. "How's that for a deal?" she said.”

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“I do wish a child is granted unto us. I would wish many a child. People say pray for the baby and the Lord will provide but that is not how things happen. You do not ask for things and you get the thing. The Lord is not a suggesting box. That is silly talk. The way it is is you dream a thing and work for a thing and make the way easy for it and then maybe that thing be born. That is how it happens.”

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Book:Grace Notes Paperback – October 1, 2011
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