December 12th, 1989

December 12th 1989
Christopher’s apartment,
73rd Street, New York

After only two hours of sleep, Christopher left for work. I sat on the couch reading while Frankie continued with her beauty sleep and when we eventually left, I experienced total déjà vu talking to Michael, the doorman, who hailed us a cab. There was no way I was walking back to the hotel:
A. In the bitter cold.
B. Wearing last night’s clothes!

Frankie’s angelic looking face and blonde wispy hair told the story of a wondrous evening in which we went out together and stayed together, yet experienced a completely different night!

Back at the hotel, Frankie amazingly came back to life and said we were going skating with a guy she met last night! I thought she was talking about “Leroy,” but no, it was someone else. I still have no idea what his name is even though we (she) skated with him for an hour in Central Park. With no coat! Apparently she agreed last night to meet mystery man at two pm today to go skating, and he was actually there! I don’t think I will every truly understand her.

I rang home and was happy to hear Granda is much better and will be going home in a day or so. Mum sounded ok, the fact that she was up to answer the phone is a good sign.

Fortunately, I went back to my own room as there was a message on the phone from BA saying my flight had been cancelled! Frankie was so disappointed that she still had to leave. I had to move the few things I had in her room back to mine and we said our goodbyes.

I rang Christopher at work to let him know my flight had been cancelled.
“That’s awesome news. Do you wanna get together later?”
“I’d love to.”
I did what Christopher wasn’t able to and took a nap!

At eight pm on the dot, he showed up with a bottle of champagne and wasted no time ringing room service for a couple of flutes.
“No need for ice,” he said, shivering. “It’s so cold in here.”
If only to escape the cold room, we downed the bottle in record time!

“Wanna go to my local?” he asked, mimicking my accent.
“Sure,” I replied, mimicking his. “Remind me where your local is?”
“Coconut Grove.”
“Oh, I love it there.”
“That’s why I suggested it,” he grinned.
After dinner he asked if I wanted to go back to his place. Responding to my expression he quickly said, “I don’t mean like that. I mean just to hang out.”

We walked arm in arm to Christopher’s building, where Michael was standing underneath the green awning. Holding the door for us, he greeted us warmly
“Surely he hasn’t been here all day?” I asked when we were in the elevator.
“I guess so. What are you smiling about?”
“Those doormen must have some stories to tell.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” he said, “unless you’d rather go back to your igloo.”
“Only if I can borrow your monogrammed pyjamas again,” I laughed.

Wearing his pyjamas, I joined him on the couch.
“What would you like to drink?” He asked. “Wait, let me guess. Tea?”
“Yes please. Do you want me to make it?”
“No way, you’re my guest.”
“Thank you.”
“Listen,” he said, standing up.
I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a questioning look.
“So nice,” he sighed.
“What?”I asked. “The sound of the cab horns beeping?”
“No,” he laughed. “The absence of Frankie snoring.”

Over tea and toast (that boy does not mess around!) Christopher filled me in on the various Manhattan neighbourhoods.

There are so many, most of which I’ve already forgotten but not this one. I am presently in what’s called the Upper East Side. I like the Upper East Side!

We talked about the future and what we want to do. Christopher said he’d like to stay in the world of television. He has some great ideas, and big plans that I have no doubt he’ll follow through on.

I shared my thoughts with him on possibly buying a house in France. He thought that was a “very cool idea,” then he said I’ll probably get “swept off my feet” by some fantastic man and have an amazing life! I told him I don’t need to be with a man to have an amazing life and he laughed and said, “I know, I can see that, but it’ll happen. Trust me.”

It’s now three am and I’m amazed that Christopher is still awake. He insisted I sleep in his bed (no, not like that!) so here I am. He’s on the couch in the living room and he just yelled, “Where’s Leroy?”

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