A New Beginning

Chapter One

"Excuse me!" a manly, yet childish voice called. "Excuse me! Miss! You there…with the carrot hair! "

Whoever this man was, he had the audacity to call me 'carrot hair', and I would have to turn around if I didn't want to seem like an imbecile, because this man was quite persistent.

"Miss!" The voice said again, more softly this time, sounding calmer. It was a Negro man, he was tall and had a large build, his skin was dark and his breathing seemed labored, as though he had been running. He came closer and I could see that he was wearing a cream colored shirt and dark brown trousers.

"May I help you?" I asked trying to seem as though I was familiar with this city, of course, my accent made the attempt sound completely ludicrous.

"Well…I was just thinking that I could help you." The man said gesturing to some of the boxes I was carrying.

"That's very kind of you sir, but carrot headed women are a lot stronger than we may look to be."

"I find that hard to believe, miss. You look as though food could do you some good, as well as a person who knows his way around this town."

I was actually expecting an apology for being referred to as 'carrot head', not being insulted more about my appearance. My sixteen year old body didn't leave me, although I had developed a more womanly figure, I was still tall and skinny as I'd always been. I didn't even know whether or not to deem this man indecent, because he seemed shy in his own strange manner, however he did not hesitate to comment on my appearance.

"And may I ask, why you would do such a thing for a woman you don't know?"

"I just got back from my momma's house, Miss. And to be honest, I would like to forget her as soon as possible. I look for and do anything that's the opposite of my momma... an English woman who is young, not scary, lost, and looks like she would appreciate my help." The man said this as though it was a compliment, and I'm sure the only reason I accepted it as a compliment was because it was refreshing to hear this man insult another woman besides myself.

Surprisingly, I adopted this strange man's careless and casual style. I put my boxes in his hands, as though he was someone I knew for a long time. I only chose to accept his offer because this was a public place, full of people, I could easily scream and run if I had to."I'm staying at the Liberty Inn, and then show me somewhere where there is food that is meant for an ass."

The man smiled , "Liberty Inn it is! I know my way all around this city, New York, she's a beauty, yes she is. I might even love her more than my momma." This man's casual attitude did not waver at all, and I was surprised that I actually enjoyed his company.

"By the way," he said "My name is Norman Morris Jones."

"Gemma Doyle," I replied.

I continued walking with Norman and he continued talking about his mother and church, how everyone at church thought his mother was an angel, but his momma was a scary woman, who would still slap his face, but since she could no longer reach Norman's face, she would do so only when he was sitting.

"So why did you leave your country, Miss?"

"To go to a school and become a proper lady."

"Aren't you a bit old for that, Miss? But I guess I could see why they might still want to send you."

"Mr. Jones! I've already graduated from a finishing school, and I consider India my country!"

"Call me Norman, and…you're Indian? Why Miss, I've never seen an Indian before! I've always wanted too! But Miss, you look just like them white folks, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Mr. Jo-…Eh, Norman, I was raised in India as a child because my father worked there, and at times it seems as though I know that culture far better than the British culture, which I assume people would say is my real culture, because my father is an Englishman. And call me Gemma."

"I see, Gemma. Well then, why did you leave England?"

"I am telling you this only because I trust you, Norman. I am a fugitive on the run." I said this looking Norman straight in the eye, make a solid effort to keep my composure, but after a moment or two we both burst out in laughter.

We reached the Inn, and I led him inside, I inserted my key into the keyhole and told Norman to leave the boxes right by my bed.

"Thank you very much, Norman."

"Your welcome, Gemma. Are you still hungry? I could show you a good place to eat."

"Thank you, Norman. I actually am quite hungry." We both began walking towards the exit of the Inn, and I had a feeling people were already wondering why an English woman was laughing so casually with a Negro man.

"Norman, I'm actually looking for an apprenticeship. Do you know anyone who would be offering a position?"

"Well, I do know a man who is looking for a stable boy. You wouldn't want to do that, would you? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Well, I'm actually interested in writing, a journalist perhaps? Do you know any newspapers that need a reporter?"

"No, I don't. There is a painter, though. He is looking for someone to take care of his studio, and often times he likes to paint people. He likes assistance with his painting. He lives on top of a journalist, who already has an apprentice whom, I know very well."

"Really? Well, that sounds like the best opportunity I could get, the best opportunity all week, in fact."

"Well, he lives right around here, Miss. We can go now if you like."

"Would he mind my coming unannounced?"

"Not at all, I know him quite well actually."

"Well, I suppose we should go see him, then." Right when I said this, I realized that I would have to wait for my lunch. This was more important, though.

We walked further for another two minutes, and reached the apartment where this painter lived. I then realized I didn't ask Norman what this painter's name was.

"Norman, what's his name?"

"Dung."

"Dung?"

"Dung."

"I can't just call him Mr. Dung! That can't be his real name!"

"You are right, you can't call him Mr. Dung. Just, Dung. He hates proper people."

"So I should walk in and say, 'Hello, Dung. I'm Gemma Doyle.'"

"Exactly!" Norman said, without a trace of humor in his voice. What was I doing anyways? I was walking around town with a strange man, who I knew nothing about, accept for the fact that he could be half mad.