“You’ll be back home in just a few days,” Eleanor said.
In truth, Eleanor couldn’t imagine facing her family again. She’d shoved as many of her belongings as she could into her suitcase. She was getting out, with or without a Broadway role. But she knew Rosie would never have agreed to go with her if she knew this move was permanent.
Rosie smiled at her, wiggling in her seat. “Two girls on the way to New York! Oh, we’re going to be in so much trouble!”
* * *
After a night on the train, they were spat out onto a concrete platform, still underground. Eleanor hadn’t slept. How could she, knowing she would see New York in the morning? Her body was tightly coiled, and she felt neither fatigue nor hunger. Even the air on the platform felt different. Droves of sleepy passengers flowed toward a door up ahead. The whole place smelled of oil and steam, though as she walked she caught snatches of something cooking up ahead. Nuts, and maybe meat. She memorized every detail. She would get just one first day in New York.
Rosie grasped her hand, losing her pluck now that they were in such a crowd. There was a map in Eleanor’s purse, as well as a list of everywhere they were due to be: Mrs. Horton’s Hotel for Girls Traveling Alone (Eleanor thought it sounded like the title of a gothic novel); Bowling Green, so they could wave at Lady Liberty; and finally, the Plymouth Theatre, where she would audition for Don Mannheim.
They reached the edge of the platform and went through the rotating doors into a gold-and-stone palace of a hall. The ceiling was magnificent, cerulean, decorated with constellations. It was so high above that Eleanor couldn’t tell if the designs were made from paint or tile. Briefcase carriers crossed the space with routine in their movements, but even they glanced up, the beauty of the room holding fast despite the dulling effect of daily commutes.
“This is the train station?” Rosie’s mouth was open, her head bent back. “Holy cow.”
Eleanor’s heart felt swollen. The floor was dirty, the lines in the marble stuffed with filth. Across the expanse was a sweeping staircase to a restaurant dressed in mahogany and golden light. In Manhattan, even the train station was glorious.
“I love it here.” Suitcase in hand, Rosie began to spin, never taking her eyes off the blue masterpiece up above. “I’m in New York!”
Rosie’s suitcase collided with a passing someone. She skittered to a stop and caught the glare of a man in a trench. “I’m so sorry!” She reached for Eleanor’s hand. “I can’t wait another moment—let’s go outside, Ellie.”
But Eleanor couldn’t move.
Rosie grasped Eleanor’s hand ever harder. “We’re supposed to get a frankfurter from a street cart, Pat says.”
Without answering, Eleanor walked with Rosie toward one of the exits. Her body thrummed with an excitement for what was to come, trembling with the nearness of it all. Broadway was here. The studios that produced the records she so loved, here. Don Mannheim.
She stopped at the door long enough to feel the anticipation for one last moment, then pushed it open.
The city roared.
A driver was leaning on his horn somewhere nearby. Taxis idled outside the station, their bright yellow bodies angled close to the curb so traffic could pass. Eleanor and Rosie stood under a viaduct, cars rushing above, and on either side, skyscrapers erupted from the concrete. Cigarette smoke and vehicle exhaust came from all sides. People shouldered them as they passed. Eleanor’s heart pounded, and she allowed herself a moment of panic before she breathed again and watched the masses curl around each other, sidestepping, lunging for taxis, crossing the street in sling-backs. There was a rhythm. She watched a child duck a man’s arm as she trotted to her mother, who continued forward with her hand stretched back, scolding her daughter to keep up. Eleanor’s heart stopped rushing. While it appeared chaotic, this place was organized.
Eleanor scurried to the curb and raised her face to see the top of Grand Central. It was the most ornate building she’d ever seen. Animals were carved into the corners of the building—gargoyles, which she had seen once, on a cathedral in Milwaukee. A glance around her revealed four buildings with gargoyles just on this block.
A man knocked her to the side. “Look out, miss!”
Rosie laughed out loud. Head tipped, one hand securing her hat, she too looked at the buildings, her mouth wide with joy.
Eleanor couldn’t speak, or even smile. She’d done it. All around her, the honking, the shouting, the slamming car doors—she was here.
Rosie took her hand. “Is it how you imagined?”
Eleanor squatted down and touched the sidewalk with her palm. Straightening, she looked over the crowd for a street sign, trying to get her bearings, then gasped and gripped her friend’s shoulders.
“Oh, Ellie, don’t—that’s filthy.”
“We’re on Forty-Second Street.” Eleanor waited a beat. “Rosie! This is the street! It’s famous! Forty-Second Street—oh, couldn’t you die?”
Rosie looked back at her, blank.
“This is where the theaters are, Rosie. We must be close.”
Rosie set her suitcase down on the dirty concrete and sat on it, inspecting a soggy half-eaten roll in the gutter. “I don’t think we should wander about.”
“Tell you what. Let’s stop in a diner. We’ll wash up and have lunch, then make a plan. How’s that sound?”
“Neat.” Rosie smoothed her hair. Eleanor noticed then that her friend’s hands were trembling and felt a rush of affection for her, that she had taken a risk to join her on this adventure.
“I’m starved,” Eleanor said.
* * *
They couldn’t waste money on taxis and had elected to avoid the subway throughout this trip, imagining shadowy figures that they both claimed they didn’t fear. So they walked and found a corner diner. It was packed—they had to wait by the hostess stand, and Rosie had to turn sideways to make room for a group of girls to pass, giggling with the novelty of it all.
“I think we should order corned beef,” Eleanor said when they were finally seated. “It’s the special here.”
“We have that at home!”
“Then what about a Reuben?”
When the waitress returned, they ordered two of them, and then settled with their map to plan the rest of the day. When the sandwiches arrived, Eleanor declared hers the best she’d ever had.
They split the bill and left, passing a group of navy men sitting at the counter drinking coffee. Rosie blushed in their presence, but Eleanor waited until they were out on the sidewalk before she teased her.