Authors: Michael Barakiva
“Well, you know
these Armenians
…” he joked, and was rewarded by the sound of his mother’s laughter.
“
These Armenians
indeed,” she agreed.
“Well, if there’s nothing else…” Alek said.
“Are you in a rush, darling?”
Alek eyed the clock nervously. It was almost four o’clock, so he only had a few minutes to get off the phone if he wanted to get to the station on time.
“Of course not, Mom,” Alek covered. Somehow, Alek’s mom could always tell when something else was going on. It’s the reason he asked his dad, and not her, to sign the math test when he needed to forge the excused-absence note for the first New York trip, which he ended up having to do again when he visited Becky at Dairy Queen after his fight with Ethan. Sometimes, he wondered if all Armenian mothers possessed telepathic abilities, or just his own.
“So how was school?”
“It was
fine
, Mom.”
“You know, Ms. Schmidt told us that you’re doing very well. If you continue like this, you’ll have no problem placing on Honor Track come fall.”
“Yup. Do you like your hotel?”
“Well, I asked for a different room, because the first one smelled of chemicals. I think they must’ve just shampooed the carpeting, and as grateful as I am for their cleanliness, you know how sensitive my olfactory is. The second room is better, but the view isn’t as good…” His mind wandered as his mom rattled off about the intricate pros and cons of hotel rooms.
Staring at the shorts he had laid on his bed, Alek wished that he had something cooler to wear for this New York adventure. But he had looked at every pair of pants and shorts he owned, and they all felt equally dorky to him.
“… I just hope the food at the restaurant is okay.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Have you done your summer clothes shopping yet?”
“I was thinking about asking the Boyces to drive me and Becky to the mall this week.”
“That’s a great idea. Just make sure that what you buy fits you well.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And use the gift card. You know how much we usually spend, right?”
Alek had anticipated this. “I think you left enough cash for the clothes—why don’t I just use that? And I’ll save the card for if there’s an emergency. Do you mind?” he asked.
“Either way, honey. I have to get ready for dinner. Your father and Nik and Nanar send their love.”
“Holla back for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, say hi to them from me, too.” Alek hung up the phone, threw his clothes into the hamper, and jumped in the shower.
* * *
“Hurry hurry hurry!” Ethan screamed from the platform. By the time Alek reached the train station, he was panting from having run the whole way. Alek bolted up the stairs a second before the train stopped and the doors opened. He put his hands in his pockets, feeling the objects that he had grabbed as he ripped out of his house: keys, the envelope full of cash, and the Metropolitan Museum sticker for good luck.
“You were freakin’ me out, dude. What took so long?”
“Mom … phone … longer…” Alek managed to sputter between breaths.
“We gotta get moving, man. You remember the drill.”
“Yessir!”
Alek snuck into the bathroom, leaving the door open, as Ethan opened his book bag and took out a black Sharpie and piece of white construction paper.
* * *
Alek felt the train dip into a tunnel. From the first trip, he remembered they’d pull into Penn Station in a few minutes.
“So what’re we doing tonight?”
“We’re gonna kick it downtown style today.”
Alek didn’t really know what Ethan meant, but he had learned to trust that things would be explained to him on a need-to-know basis.
“I have a request,” Alek stated.
“You do, do you?” Ethan cocked one eyebrow inquisitively.
“I want you to take me shopping.”
“I think it’s a little early for us to be picking out curtains. We’re not lesbians, after all.”
“That’s not what I mean, Eth. I want clothes like yours. Cool clothes.”
“Just because we’re together doesn’t mean you have to dress like me, Alek. I like the way you dress. It’s dorky-chic.”
“I think it’s just dorky-dorky. I’m not saying I want to dress like you, but…” Alek trailed off. His parents had always criticized
these Americans
who bought clothes every month to reflect the latest fashion, and Alek certainly didn’t want to be one of those people. But he was tired of dressing in a way that didn’t feel like himself. Even if it meant having to go to school in his underwear, Alek vowed to never wear khakis again.
“Well, you’re in luck, dude,” Ethan said. “I do all of my shopping downtown, so it’ll be easy enough to hit a store or two. We’ll see what you like. You know, though, it’s going to take some coin.”
“I’m on it.” Alek produced the cash from his pocket and showed it to Ethan.
“Whoa, dude. You can’t go around flashing green like that once we’re in the city.”
Sheepishly, Alek stuffed the envelope back into his pocket.
“So, MetroCard two-for-one special?”
“Not today. The weather’s so great, and we’re not in a rush. We’re going to walk our way through Manhattan. It’s the best way to get to know this city.”
“Lead, and I will follow.”
“I know you will.” Ethan leaned in and kissed Alek gently on the lips. The train came to a halt. “Let’s go.”
15
“
So what are we going to do first
?”
“We’re gonna get you a new look. What’re you thinking?”
“I just don’t want to wear these stupid khaki shorts anymore.”
“You have to figure out what you want to look like. People don’t dress cool by accident. It’s gotta be planned, even if it looks like it’s not. I think you need to look at a few options. Luckily, I know just the place.”
The summer breeze offset the heat, and the humidity was blessedly low. Alek and Ethan walked through a group of street acrobats leaping over one another in synchronized daredevilry to hip-hop music in front of a huge rotating, glowing cube sculpture that looked like an artifact from the future.
“Downtown feels totally different from Museum Mile and Central Park,” Alek observed.
“That’s what rocks about New York. It’s like a thousand different cities stuck together on one little island.”
“Everything uptown was so clean and organized. But down here, it’s more…”
“Caj?” Ethan offered.
“Caj?”
“You know. Casual. And artsy. Downtown is artsy,” Ethan said. “That’s a good way to think about your new look. Before, you were clean and organized, like uptown. But now, you’re going to discover the downtown, artsy Alek.”
“The artsy Alek,” Alek repeated to himself.
Alek and Ethan walked into a small park surrounded by streets and stores. Alek could make out
UNION SQUARE NORTH
on a nearby street sign.
“You gotta check this out!” Ethan grabbed Alek’s hand and practically ran to the other side of the square, where a bunch of kids were skateboarding up and down rails, ramps, and stairs.
“It looks just like what you guys have back home,” Alek said.
“This was our inspiration. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, a bunch of kids are always at it out here. And check them out!
“Awesome moves, dude,” Ethan called out to a skateboarder who jumped onto the rail with his board, slid down, flipped it around in midair, and landed with ease. The skater responded by punching his chest twice and throwing Ethan a peace sign.
After watching the skateboarders for a few more minutes, Alek and Ethan continued walking south. A few blocks later, they made a left on Astor Place.
“Okay. I know that you didn’t ask for it, but if we’re gonna make you over, we’ve gotta start with the hair.”
“Ethan, you might think of yourself as some kind of miracle worker, but you haven’t met my Armenian ’Fro. This will be my hair until I die.”
“You don’t know my man Marco. The guy’s a genius.”
Ethan walked down a staircase under a barber’s sign in which the words “ASTOR HAIR” were formed with white lightbulbs against a black background. Alek quickly followed. He emerged into a basement labyrinth of mirrors and barber chairs, so dark that Alek didn’t know how the barbers could see anyone’s hair, let alone cut it. This place bore no resemblance to the brightly lit, elevator-music hair salons at the mall, where Alek’s mom had been taking him his whole life.
Everything in this room was in motion—barbers furiously snipping, assistants anxiously sweeping, and electric razors boldly buzzing. The customers were mostly grown-up men, but Alek could see kids who looked younger than him and some senior citizens navigating the room with canes and walkers. Even the clients sitting in the chairs had a glow of energy around them, animatedly discussing local politics or sports with one another across cutting stations. Ethan didn’t pause to take in the pandemonium. He beelined to a barber in the back of the room.
“Ethan,
mio caro
, great to-ah see you!” a pudgy middle-aged man with a few days’ worth of stubble, a thick bushy mustache, and an even thicker accent called to him.
“Marco, this is my friend Alek. Save him!” Ethan called. Marco had warm brown eyes, and his fat fingers, squeezed into the scissor handles, looked like sausages about to pop out of their casings.
Marco pulled Ethan and Alek aside. “I-ah finish with my-ah current client in five-ah minutes. There’s a wait list, but any friend-ah Ethan’s a friend-ah mine.” Marco ran his sausage fingers through Alek’s hair. “Greek?”
“Armenian.”
“That-ah would’ve been-ah my-ah next guess. Only the Greeks and the Armenians have-ah hair this-ah crazy. We-ah see what we can do, eh? You should be-ah wearing your-ah hair, not the other way around, yes?”
Half an hour later, Alek emerged from the basement sporting his new short, tousled hair. In spite of the detailed instructions he’d received, Alek had no idea if he’d ever be able to re-create that perfectly messy look that Marco could achieve in fifteen seconds by squirting some product in his hands and running them over Alek’s head.
“Check out my boy!” Ethan said admiringly when Alek stepped out of the barber shop. Alek saw his reflection in a glass storefront. The cut looked even more drastic in the light of day than it had in Marco’s dark mirror downstairs. He’d never realized how his old hair had drawn focus away from his eyes, nose, and ears. With this new shorter do, his features jumped into the foreground.
“I feel exposed.”
“Scary, isn’t it, to have nothing to hide behind?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,” Alek agreed. “But also freeing.”
“Dude, it looks freakin’ hot.” Ethan took a deep breath and screamed out, “My boy looks hot!”
“Shh!” Alek looked around to see if anyone had responded to Ethan’s outburst.
But Ethan had already moved on. “Now we need to get this hottie some hot clothes,” he continued. “Let’s go.”
Ethan and Alek walked for another fifteen minutes until they stood outside of a brick building with the words
HOUSING WORKS
stenciled on the windows and door. “Follow me,” Ethan said, entering the store without breaking his pace. Alek did.
“Ethan!” a young African-American woman called from behind the register. “You haven’t been here in ages—it’s good to see you, babe!”
“Clarice! What up, girl?” Ethan said, leaning over and giving her a hug. “This is Alek. Alek, this is Clarice. She’s finishing up at FIT—Fashion Institute of Technology—so you know she’s legit.” Then he turned back to Clarice. “I’m thinking preppy/artsy/nerdy chic. Can you help us?”
“Follow me,” she said. When Clarice walked out from behind the counter, Alek could appreciate her full ensemble. She wore tight purple pants and a sleeveless black shirt with sequins that shimmered whenever she moved. Ethan and Alek followed Clarice as she navigated through the clothes racks.
“This is a used-clothes store!” Alek exclaimed.
“How do you think I remain so fashionable on a budget?” Ethan asked. “But it’s not
just
a used-clothes store.”
“We donate our profits to homeless people with HIV or AIDS,” Clarice told Alek as she guided them through the racks of clothing. “So you get to look tight and support a good cause.”
“They’ve also got a bookstore downtown,” Ethan said. “Not that I’ve spent much time there.”
“Now let’s see.” Clarice appraised Alek like a scientist trying to puzzle the results of an experiment. “No pale earth tones or yellows—I like you in rich primaries, and maybe a luscious brown to bring out those eyes. That sound right to you, Ethan?”
“Spot-on as always, Clarice.”
“What about this?” she asked, pulling out a faded green T-shirt.
“That’s the Green Lantern insignia!” Alek exclaimed with joy, admiring the white circle graphic on the chest of the shirt.
“What?” Ethan said.
“‘In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight.’ That’s the Green Lantern motto!”
“Whatever,” Ethan said. “I just think it looks fierce. You hold, Clarice and I grab,” he said, throwing Alek the shirt.
Soon Alek was buried in a pile of clothes. He immediately vetoed some of the stuff as too weird, like a pair of bright red flare pants and a neon purple tank top. But Ethan didn’t mind. “We’re just figuring out what you like.”
When Alek thought he’d crumble under the weight of the pile of clothes he was holding, Ethan said, “Take these and try them on. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Alek found the dressing room in the back corner of the store and waited in line until it was available.
Sliding the curtain closed behind him, Alek slipped his shoes and khaki shorts off and tried on the first pair of pants, slim-fitting dark blue trousers with a button fly and stitching on the sides in neon-orange accents.
“Alek, get out here and model for me!” Ethan screamed from outside. Shyly, Alek slid the curtain open and walked out.
“‘The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,’” Alek recited in a British accent.
“Excuse me?” Ethan appraised the pants’ fit on Alek from all angles.