The Perfect Ten

"Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see." With a sly gesture, Preston leans on the side of his fire escape located one floor above Shaelin's window in the building across the street; she seems unmoved. She has only lived in New York City for nearly three weeks now and is already missing the privacy of her condo in Buffalo upstate. She had always wanted to live in the big city, but now was speculating that Queens only housed jokers as residences.

Shaelin continues in her studio apartment as if she had not heard Preston, who is no longer visible from his window. Shaelin sighs, and prematurely makes a move to close her window and curtains for the day. Perhaps she would go out today; after all, she had barely seen anything in her neighborhood beyond the 7-train ride for fifteen blocks from 82nd Street to Junction Boulevard where she was now teaching. She had hardly said a word to anyone in New York City since she started working, not even the principal, and she was not about to start with this man who had insulted her. No New Yorker, even from upstate, appreciates being mistaken as being an outsider of their state. 

Shaelin was born an raised in New York and was not about to be thought or labeled as a transplant. She firmly grabs the window and tries to pull it down unsuccessfully. Reevaluating the four paned window, she tries again; nothing. Frustrated at the condition of the window, she blames the three layers of thick coated paint. She was surprised she was even able to get the damn thing open in the first place. As she crosses her arms, she cannot help but look across the way, back up into Preston's window, causing her to scream.

This startles Preston who almost drops in professional-level camera. Preston recovers enough to catch the last glimpse of Shaelin before she grabs her curtains and pulls it closed. Putting down his camera, Preston pleads, "No, no! Miss, I apologize! I - I do not want you to be embarrassed; you are so beautiful to capture! I couldn't resist! Please, don't go."

Very haughtily, Shaelin pontificates, "I am not embarrassed; I am used to you - you greasy city slickers! I lived in New York my entire life, and your kind is nothing new. You are a menace and should be ashamed of yourself. You perverts have no respect for anyone and think just because you say something is beautiful that you have the right to do - to do prevy things to others! Well, you don't! Not with me! You are sick, and I caught you! I - I should call the police on you, but that would be a waste of our law enforcement and taxpayers dollars!"

Preston says nothing, causing Shaelin to continue yelling loudly at her curtains, "And I'm not going anywhere! I live here, same as you; but you clearly have no decency! And you give us respectful city folk a bad name, you know that?" 

Preston does not respond, causing Shaelin to peer through the curtains. She sees Preston who looks demoralized. Not wanting to admit it, Shaelin knew she had been harsh. For most of her university years, she earned the prude stereotype, and she was well on her way of claiming herself a new one; priss. She felt wretched for the words she used. She had no idea what his intention for taking his photos, but he did not appear to be malicious or prevy at all. Never wishing to cause others to feel shame or fault, Shaelin opened up her curtains and stared straight up at Preston. His head hung low. It reminded her of her favorite student she had left behind at her upstate elementary school for special needs.

Shaelin was still considered new within her field of education. With eight years of experience, she had two published books under her belt, four specialized masters programs, and she had only just discovered her passion was working with the blind. She was practically begged to continue her work in her hometown, but when the opportunity arose in Jackson Heights for a new program, she hopped on the first Greyhound into the city. 

As she looked at this young-20's man, she could only think about Nathan Elliot Harrison. It was harder saying goodbye to little Nathan than to her step-dad; the thought of ever making him feel shame had her almost immediately want to retract all words she had spewed out to Preston in the heat of the moment.

Not only were all her words filled with malice, but it was the most she had said to anyone in three weeks. Until now, she had managed to keep herself, but the thought of being photographed had her tear apart the only neighbor who had made any attempt to engage or connect with her. 

Very guarded, Shaelin places both hands on her hips, "What's the big idea anyway - hasn't anybody ever told you privacy amongst peers?" Preston slowly raises his gaze, and without saying anything he nods, "Si - errr, I mean yes. I have learned boundaries, modesty, immediacy, and to always share my earned royalties from my photos with my models." 

Shaelin cocks her head to the side, "Models?" 

Preston nods much quicker, "Yes, collaboration is a huge part of my art. I am not driven by a paycheck, but by my passion. I love to capture moments; moments that I get to share with others from both sides of my lense; si." Preston crouches down and returns with the camera; pointing at it with an unapologetically genuine smile. His goofy expression has Shaelin to join in. 

Shocked by this emotion, Shaelin reverts and tries to remain firm, "Well, I am not a model, and I would prefer not to be capture by your film. Got that? If I am to live here, I want to make it clear you do not have permission to take my photos. Clear?" Preston frowns. Shaelin now crosses her arms. 

Preston clarifies, "Just now; or like ever?"

"Ever."

"What should I do with the ones I took last week while you were -"

Shaelin cuts him off, "How long have you been taking pictures of me? Nevermind - yes! Delete them all; every single one. Do you hear me? I don't know how long you've been watching me, but -"

"I only moved in last Tuesday!" Preston shakes his head, "I just got a visa, and I will return to Pai by Sping. I meant no harm. I - I love people; that's why I came to New York. Ever since I was little I was told I had talent, but would never make it big in Thailand. But I have dreams! I'm sorry I - I should have asked. Taking photos of residents is much different than taking photos of tourists, but I want both." Shaelin purses her lips. He continues, "I should have asked." Preston leans back out of his fire escape; not sulking but looking very sad.

Shaelin takes a hard gulp, "Yes, you should have." She uncrosses her arms and now leans out her window. Looking at Preston, he now transforms into a younger version of her; she smiles and takes this moment in a bit more. Shaelin playfully says, "Well, I guess sometimes it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission; aye?" Preston begins to nod almost uncontrollably. They both smile at one another.

Innocently, Preston asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Taken off-guard, Shaelin blurts out, "Of course! For years now." This was a complete lie. A lie of a lifetime for her. Not only had she never had a boyfriend, but she was also an independent woman who secretly swung for her own team. She had never admitted it since she was harassed back in college, and never gained the confidence to pursue anyone she felt an attraction to. It was in this moment that pain hit her heart for her college roommate Amelia Erin Good; the love that got away.

"Well . . ." Preston pried. 

This brought Shaelin back to the moment, "Well, what?" 

"Where is he?"

"Still upstate."

"He let you move here by yourself?"

"His life is still in Buffalo."

"Are you still going to stay together?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"For forever. Why do you care?"

"Because I can see it in your face," Preston points to her eyes, "Right there. You gazed off and seemed to be transported to another time - perhaps with him. It's the moment I seek when shooting my models. You have that look very often - as far as I have observed. At least in this last week of living here. Your relationship seems very strong. Is he the one you're waiting for?"

Shaelin seems a bit ashamed; to think that she has never had anyone, and yet a complete stranger seems to think I am waiting for someone. In a huff, "I'm not waiting. I've never waited."

Preston shakes his head, "Woah! I thought most Americans who were not in the movies still waited; I mean, maybe not marriage - but at least for their true loves; no?"

Shaelin cocks her head, "Waiting for . . . Oh! Oh, that! No, I do not wait for marriage.

But I don't just put out - errr . . . this conversation is done."

Preston begins to giggle, "Oh, Miss neighbor friend - you have me all wrong. I too am a virgin. It is not a shameful thing to wait; yes? Sure I have thoughts about my true love back in my village, but he wants me to live out my youth, and not be obsessed with making love more than making art with the beautiful people I am destined to meet; claims he would rather me find myself while away from him, in case I don't come back. That way, he wouldn't have to see me in love with another, and then he could keep our hometown village as a consolation prize if he is right. Ah, but I know he is the one for me; so I only look forward to my return to the wild one who pushed me away. Love is crazy, no?" 

Shaelin heard every word he said but was more shocked that her guard had completely disappeared. She presents a coy smile, "You may call me Miss Shaelin."

"Ah. Such a beautiful name. You can call me Preston . . . my friends back at home call me Em. I don't have any friends here yet . . . I'm pleased to meet you. You know, if I didn't know better, I would have guessed you were already married with a litter of kids. With the scornful words earlier, I pegged you for a disciplinarian who never has to teach the same lesson twice. A valuable trait for any mother to have."

Taking this as a compliment, Shaelin nods, "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment from a peeping tom, but as a teacher of over a dozen, I do thank you." They both smile, until Shaelin becomes uneasy, "Well, I best be going. Best of luck with your stay in New York. And I hope it goes -"

"Do you want to come over? Or go out som-"

"No. No, that's quite alright. I'm not much for socializing. I'm much too busy with my work and . . ." Shaelin pauses, "Hey, Preston - errr, Em. Why did you use that cheesy pick-up line earlier? The one about Tennessee."

Em shrugs his shoulders, "What's a pick-up line?"

Shaelin suppresses her smile and recites, "'You are the only ten I see?'"

Em beams brightly with pride, "Ah! My icebreaker! I practiced that one for a whole month. I had to beg my step-brother to teach me friendly English greetings. He said giving Americans perfect scores is an excellent way to gain favoritism. I guess it worked; si?"

Not knowing how to break the news to him from across the way that pick-up lines were probably not the best substitute for genuine conversation starters, Shaelin continues, "I see; your step-brother. Did he teach you any more English greetings?"

"Lots," Em puts his hands on his hips, "and even a few clever goodbyes. He's a genuine guy sometimes; I really lucked out."

Jovially, Shaelin changes her tune, "Perhaps you'd like to teach me some while we explore our new city blocks together. I think I'd be willing to consider trying to socialize . . . at least today. You know, maybe we both could use some practice being around new people; yeah?"

Em lights up, and then sheepishly asks, "Do you mind if I bring my camera - I promise I will not capture any moments of you . . . at least not on film."

Shaelin taps the side of her face, "You know . . . I think that sounds acceptable. What would you say to this crazy idea: You can model for me?"

Em slacks his chest, "If my heart was not already stolen by another, I would say you know just how to take it away - oh my, yes! I'll get changed; I have this cerulean suit that has been dying to be captured in these bustling streets! I'll be down in 20; I'll meet you on your curbside!"

Shaelin smiles as Em disappears into his apartment. She tries again to close the window. With barely any force, it slides down gently, and she is greeted by a transparent reflection of herself.

She smiles and closes her curtain.