Alpha King Please Never let me go

~Alyona~

I’ve heard that people come to New York for two reasons: to follow their hearts or their dreams.  

The first time I ever traveled to New York was when I was in my mother’s womb like a peanut.

 My parent’s short love story brought two kids into this world, including me.

Their particular love didn’t last long. Predictably, for the former reason - because of another woman.

But the allure of the city that never sleeps has never left my mom. After all, New York City is one of the most (maybe the most) iconic city in the world for a reason; the art and the history; the music and the architecture; the diversity; the noise; the never-ending lines of yellow checkered cabs punctuation every block.

Growing up in New York, I believed life in the city was for masochists. In the summer, we complain about the heat. In the winter, the cold.

At present, it’s a harsh winter. Keeping calm is vital when we are blasted with terrifying storms like the present arctic-polar-vortex-bomb-cyclone. While walking toward home, I thought about grabbing a cup of hot coffee.

The coffee shop air swirls with aromatic dreams; little wonder it is a place where people decide their future. The coffee shop of white cups and black coffee, of small jugs filled with cream, has that ambiance of friendly chatter. Standing in the queue, I love seeing people’s expressions and how they change in a single moment.

“Hi. How are you doing?” A beautiful girl purred from another side.

“Hello. I want a small latte, please,” I answered.

“Anything else?” She marked a small white cup.

“Nothing, thank you.” I smiled.

“Your name? Please,” still holding the black sharpie marker to write my name.

“Alyona Marshall, write Alyona,” my mom gave the name.

After a few moments, she passed my coffee cup. The coffee cup was small enough to fit in the palm of a child, holding that potent magic brew only the hardiest of the grown-ups could savor. I took the first sip; rolled my eyes till heaven.

The steam coming from the little hole of the cup gave me a sense of warmth on my nose tip. Snuffling the aromatic coffee, I started walking towards my home. I live in the city’s heart, where I can hear the pumping and thump in my house, the nightlife. The nightlife of New York emerges. Without the crowds and the commerce, the city comes alive after dusk. It blushes on its avenues, whispers on its bridges, grumbles in its bars, and roars in its clubs. My home is an old building, a townhome.

The houses stood together in all seasons, feeling the rain and sunshine just the same. In any weather, they sheltered our families, stood firm against the winter wind, yet let in brilliant light even as it blew.

I took out my jiggling keys and wanted to open the door. I can hear a worship song melody coming from my house. Holding the cup in my other hand, I opened the door. The sound of the melodious song changed the atmosphere in my heart as it hit my ear more profoundly. As I entered the living room, I saw my mom dancing in God’s love.

It’s normal for me to see her madly in love with her God. I stood there and smiled at how she created her new dance moves to show her happiness. I kept my jiggling keys in the bowl next to me.

I took out my feathery coat and kept it on the chair, but my mother opened her eyes and signaled me to keep the fur on the hanger. It made me smile; Is it only my mother who keeps me in check while worshipping?

She came toward me while dancing.

“For the fullness of his grace, we received one more blessing.” She twirled my body.

“What blessing? Mom,” I loved it when she danced like this.

She lowered the volume of the speaker.

“I got a promotion,” her eyes sparkled up.

“Wow, congratulation.” I hugged her.

“Yup, he always amazed me with his unexpected blessings. He knows I needed it, and he gave it to me.” Her eyes filled with tears while praising her God.

“Ok, tell me,”

“I got promoted as a head nurse with a salary increment,” she revealed her words with another twirl.

“That’s superb news, mom,” I purred excitedly.

“Did you inform Cassandra?” I added.

She shook her head left and right.

“Then let’s call her and give her this good news.” I grabbed my phone and called her.

Cassandra is my elder sister. She fell in love with a true-hearted man named Lucas.

They got the job in California and shifted last year.

Sometimes I miss her, but I am happier with the thought of getting full access to my bedroom without sharing it with my bossy sister.

I loved the window side bed after she got married.