Back then me and Daddy lived up in Washington Heights. He had an apartment in a pre-war building right near the A train. Hed lived there pretty much forever, arriving way before most of the recent gentrifiers. When he took the place, he was a hot, closeted piece of beefy (trust me, Ive seen pictures) 23 year-old rookie meat at a big bank downtown, fresh off the boat from New Haven. At that time I was, depending on his memory of the exact dates, either an unborn fetus or a mere babe in my parents arms, far from the hustle of Manhattan
I remember one afternoon at Daddy's apartment, it was the summer before my junior year of college, so we'd been together a few months, I guess, and I was living at his place that summer. I was standing by the kitchen window with a glass of iced tea watching the traffic outside. It was stiflingly hot, and you better believe no 1909-built apartment block is going to have central air conditioning. I was very sweaty and very bored. Over the rustle of car engines and Spanish I heard the sound of a train horn. It rang long and loud several times, hanging in the air.
I remember one afternoon at Daddy's apartment, it was the summer before my junior year of college, so we'd been together a few months, I guess, and I was living at his place that summer. I was standing by the kitchen window with a glass of iced tea watching the traffic outside. It was stiflingly hot, and you better believe no 1909-built apartment block is going to have central air conditioning. I was very sweaty and very bored. Over the rustle of car engines and Spanish I heard the sound of a train horn. It rang long and loud several times, hanging in the air.