Original Stories Fan Fiction / Realism Fan Fiction ❯ 13th Floor ❯ Do You Believe in Miracles? ( Chapter 3 )

Aw, bloody hell, thought Lynn as she awoke to a fierce knocking on her new apartment's door. It wasn't the best morning greeting, especially considering she had just fallen off her already lumpy, stiff futon onto the hard, wooden floor of her rather small living room. It was enough that she couldn't afford a bed, but she couldn't even get a proper wake-up. She managed a groan.

With nothing short of a miracle, the groggy, young woman pulled herself together in record time. She grabbed her thick, Harry Potter glasses. Swiftly examining the faint reflection in her glass coffee table, she brushed the sleet out of her eyes and quickly finger-combed her short, curly, and unruly hair. The pajama-clad girl fired open her door with an irritated, “What?!”

In the doorway stood an elderly, petite woman, clearly of Eastern Asian descent. Lynn was shocked, but she felt sure she had seen this lady before. The woman had clear, pale skin that wrinkled slightly at the corners of her eyes and her forehead. Her dark hair was springy, curled, and short- definitely a perm. She wore bright, red lipstick and well-ironed, maroon pants along with a cheetah print, long-sleeved top. Her jewelry was large and obviously expensive; Lynn deduced that they were probably from Tiffany's. Her look was so overstated and melodramatic to the point of being quite gaudy, but that didn't excuse how her high and prominent cheekbones emphasized her warm eyes.

“Well honey, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” said the woman in a high-pitched Southern Vietnamese accent. She placed her manicured hands on her hips and clicked her tongue in disapproval, though not unkindly. Staring down at the older woman, Lynn's eyes suddenly widened in recognition: Maison Samedi's landlady. The fire and irritation in Lynn quickly died down after realizing this.

She glanced behind her at the digital clock she kept on her coffee table- eight o'clock. She had an hour and a half to get to Mount Sinai School of Medicine, including her 20 minute commute. Normally, she would just get the notes she needed online, but there was an important lab today. Directing her eyes back to the woman in front of her, Lynn asked only slightly uneasily, “Can I help you?”

The landlady smiled, stepping into the apartment with an overly friendly and familiar attitude, not that that was a bad thing. Her name was Alexandra Nguyen, Lynn recalled, a widow.

“You like the apartment,” said Alexandra, serenely stepping around Lynn to examine the room. It wasn't a question.

“It's really nice,” replied Lynn quietly, rather frazzled at the sudden intruder. Her hair was a mess, she was uncomfortable standing there in loose, unattractive clothing, and her palms were beginning to sweat. What did this woman want?

“You have any problems, you let me know. I can help even if it takes a miracle,” said Mrs. Nguyen with a wink. Lynn was surprised once more at the gesture.

“Thanks, that's nice Mrs. Nguyen,” Lynn mumbled in awe of the person before her. People in this town weren't always this nice.

“Call me Mama,” she said. Lynn did a double-take at the motherly spirit and familiarity in this senior citizen of NYC. “Bye, bye now,” waved Mama in a sing-song tone as she headed out the door, closing it behind her.

Lynn was soon able to get some form of regularity back into her morning with her normal routine. Fold up the futon, brush teeth, shower, put in contacts, put on clothes, eat, brush teeth again, style hair, grab bag, grab wallet, brush teeth yet again, and leave for med school. Thankfully, her OCD didn't take over, and she didn't spend her entire morning brushing her teeth. The whole ordeal took about an hour and 10 minutes.

Of course she was new to folding the futon back into a sofa, this having been her first time. This was only her first apartment after moving out of her parents' Brooklyn home where she always had a bed. Even while attending Georgetown, her dorm had had a bed. Therefore, the momentous event of Lynn's first folding of a futon took a full half hour. Miraculously, she wasn't late for school.