Molly’s Place
By HarryB
Published: November 8, 2008
Updated: November 8, 2008

Molly’s Place

by Harry Buschman


Molly arrived by bus at the terminal in New York only two weeks ago. It was her first visit to New York and the hustle and bustle of its 24 hour day still excited her.

She had no trouble getting a job answering the telephone at AirWest because she had a rosy outlook and a soothing southern accent. Now, two weeks later, she deposited her first pay check from AirWest and bought her first honest to goodness sit down lunch at the automat across the street from Bryant Park. Tomorrow she promised herself she would look for a new pair of shoes with four inch heels.

She was lucky to find an apartment near the DeKalb subway station in Brooklyn – just above it as a matter of fact. So many of the rooms she looked at were inconvenient to get to or in neighborhoods a young girl from the south would not care to walk through at night.

It was a small one room apartment to be sure – ‘efficiency’, they called it, not much bigger than the old chest of drawers in her bedroom back home in Biloxi. But it was home to Molly for the time being and this evening she was all set to eat a bucket of chicken wings, stretch out on the floor and listen to heavy metal music on her tiny earphone radio. But first she reached out with her foot to turn on the air conditioner – it had been a warm afternoon and the heat still lingered in the windowless room.

In the silence of her efficiency apartment with nothing but the grinding rumble of her air conditioner, her radio and her chicken wings to keep her company, she summed up the quality of her new life. Things were promising. more promising than she ever thought they would be, and her natural rosy outlook sweetened her prediction for the future. She reminded herself that the best things in life are free, and New York City is the place to be.

However Spartan her condition was at the moment – however confining, plus the fact that she had to share a bathroom with the Mexican building superintendent with a frightening skin condition, it was still heads and shoulders above the life she left behind in Biloxi.

©Harry Buschman