https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqXUpe3jlkA
-its raining men-
The neon is still burning into my retinas as we duck into another souvenir shop. This one smells of cheap plastic and cinnamon-scented candles, which is a combination I didn’t know existed until now. I guess I’ve smelled worse things.
The walls are stacked from floor to ceiling with merchandise. There are shelves of mugs, racks of sweatshirts, and piles of stuffed animals dressed as the Statue of Liberty. It’s like Times Square condensed into a closet-sized retail explosion. I am learning that nothing here is done at less than one hundred and fifty percent.
Sandra and Lucy have been spamming me with emojis all day, demanding proof of life in New York, begging for pictures of Rhett, teasing me about the engagement. Suddenly, the presents I got for them in the other shop seem too nothing.
My eyes land on a white ceramic mug stamped with the classic I heart NY in garish red letters. Sandra’s the type who collects mugs from everywhere; her kitchen cupboard is a mismatched museum of cities. But what makes this mug more special is the fact that the heart is covered in rhinestones. It sparkles just enough to be a bit extra, just like Sandra. This will be the crowning glory of her collection.
“Perfect,” I murmur, holding it up.
Rhett peers over my shoulder. “Perfect for who?”
“Sandra. She’ll think it’s hideous and cherish it anyway. Also, she likes things that sparkle, so I’m pandering to that too.”
“Good idea,” Rhett says solemnly.
If Sandra is getting two presents, then so is Lucy. She has a soft spot for things that are both kitschy and oddly charming. I find a snow globe with the Empire State Building inside, surrounded by tiny taxis that go off swirling when you shake it.
“This one is definitely for Lucy,” I say, giving it a shake. Glitter and tiny taxis float down like confetti. “She’ll keep it on her desk and make it snow during meetings when she’s bored.”
Rhett nods, his lips twitching. “Perfect gift.”
I spot a cotton apron printed with a map of New York City. It’s bright and colorful, with the subway lines snaking across the fabric. That’s perfect for my mother. I run my fingers over it, imagining her wearing it while making Sunday dinner, humming like she always does. And I get all sentimental.
“My mother will love this.”
Rhett glances at me sideways, something softer in his expression, but he doesn’t say anything.
If my mother is getting two presents, my dad shouldn’t feel left out. I start looking for something for him too. He’s practical and never fussy, but he does have a secret weakness for puzzles. In the corner, I spot a one-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle of the Manhattan skyline at night, the whole city glittering.
“There. That’s him in a box,” I say. I pick it up and balance it against my hip. “He’ll spend weeks finishing it and then glue it together so it’s permanent. That’s his thing.”
“He sounds like a man who doesn’t do anything halfway,” Rhett says.
“Exactly.”
I smile, my arms full of treasures. It feels like I will be carrying pieces of this city home with me. We head to the counter, and I set everything down, fishing in my purse for my wallet.
What happens next happens so fast that I almost don’t register it. There is a blur of movement at the edge of my vision, then there’s a tug on my hand, and suddenly the strap of my purse is yanked free, and it’s gone, just like that. I gasp, spinning around. A man in a grey hoodie is sprinting towards the door with my purse clutched under his arm.
“Hey,” I shout, dashing to the door. “Stop him! He stole my purse!”
But of course, the crowd outside barely flinches. Times Square swallows noise, and one more shout is nothing.
Before I can even think of what to do next, Rhett has ducked around me. He shoots past the door in a streak of black coat and determination, barreling through the door after the thief. My heart lurches.
“Rhett,” I shout, and he too doesn’t hear me, or if he does, he doesn’t stop.
The shopkeeper shouts something, but I can’t process it. Rhett and the thief turn a corner, and I stumble back from the doorway, clutching at the counter for balance so that I can see the other side of the building through the window. I can see Rhett weaving through the crowd like a predator locked on his prey. The thief darts left, then right, then left again, trying to lose him in the crush of tourists, but Rhett is at least ahead taller than everyone else, so he doesn’t lose sight of him. He is relentless. People shout, scattering as the two of them zigzag between them. I can’t breathe, and my chest feels tight. Adrenaline floods my system, making my hands shake.
Then it happens. The thief misses a step, and collides with a man selling balloons. He stumbles, and Rhett seizes the moment. He lunges, grabbing the strap of my purse with one hand and the thief’s hoodie with the other. The guy jerks free, and disappears into the crowd. Rhett stays upright, my purse secure in his grip.
He jogs back toward the shop and comes in, heading straight for me, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, but he has a big grin on his face. When he reaches me, he holds my purse out.
“I do believe this is yours.”
