America. Land of opportunity. Definitely NOT nearly as cold. Automobiles zoom about, busy as the city is, it can be quiet sometimes too. These things I've noticed since I immigrated here 4 months ago. My life in Norway was boring and dull. My family was not "rich" per-se, but they could hold their own with a single daughter. The boys all looked the same, the houses were too familiar, and the grass was too green. You'd think me crazy for wanting to move away from a life that would have an easy future for me. Hell, my parents sure did. They'd set me up with a boy from a village high in the mountains...Kenny? Koala? Christmas? I don't even remember. They thought that he'd "make a woman" out of me with his "big arms" and... well... you can guess.
These days, I run some shows for some speakeasies through Aedan. He's an odd guy, doesn't always quite know how to treat a woman. Certainly not the kind of man who'd make for a loyal husband, if you ask me. We don't speak much. I'm terrible at English. When we do "talk," it's mostly through a series of strange... weird... hand motions and body language. Let's just say it got to the point where we both silently agreed to only "speak" in private quarters. But as far as I can tell, he hired me for my looks and possibly my resemblance to an Irish woman. With red hair, teal eyes, and so many freckles that I could resemble something called a "cheetah," you really would think me Irish. But no, I'm a true Norwegian, whose usual stereotype is pale/fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Certainly not me. Aedan didn't realize this until I started speaking my native tongue. But it seemed like he didn't care as long as I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I made him feel like home? I just don't know.
With all the hustle and bustle of New York, it's really not at all what I pictured. You hear all these stories across the seas about how it's easy to make it "big" in America. The musical wonders of Jazz like Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington. It makes a young girl like me dream of fame and fortune. But now that I'm here, that's all it feels like. A dream. Something that could never come true for a little girl like me. Oh yes… I'm a woman in New York in 1923… Let's not forget that. I can't walk down a street without a man wolf whistling at me. He can do that. But if I even thought about giving him a look over, Gods forbid. If I hadn't watched a poor girl, just a bit younger than me, being surrounded by shady men who had perverted thoughts written all over their faces, I might not've learned this. And if I hadn't kicked one man's balls and grabbed the girl's arm, I might not be running for my life right now.