We make the long walk to Canal Street—make that, we almost sprint there—and we’re holding hands and laughing and kissing and sing-shouting, “Mommy’s just jealous it’s the BEASTIE BOYS,” and like that we’re there and we’re skipping down the steps into the station. Some spray-painted graffiti on the wall asks, Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Lamentations 1:12 and I think, No, Lord, whoever the hell You are, this is not nothing to me. This counts. Like, I could see myself being one of those tourists in Chinatown and I could buy a shirt that says, “I Survived the All-Nighter” or “Nick & Norah Went to the Marriott Marquis and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt,” as if the experience never happened without the T-shirt to prove it.
Nick slides the MetroCard through the turnstile and we hear a train approaching and it’s early Sunday morning so I better hurry because who knows how long it will be before another train comes through. He passes the card to me but when I try to slide it through, the machine reads Insufficient Fare, because Nick must have just used the last value of the card.
“Fuck!” I say.
“Fuck!” he says.
Nick puts his hand on mine from the other side of the turnstile. He says, “Don’t worry about it, just jump over.”
I hesitate even though I know my wavering could cost us the approaching train. If I make this jump, then this is real, he is real. I will have broken the law for him and that will bind us together forever, outlaws, like Bonnie and Clyde. And look how that worked out for them.
“C’mon, Norah,” Nick says. I hear his urgency, and once again, I think, Oh, poor Nick. I mean, I think I am basically a cool girl, but I am also a pain in the ass. I know this. It’s like he has no idea what he’s setting himself up for. I should just call the car service for myself and let Nick go.
“Norah?”
If I do this, it will be like jumping into the middle of the mosh pit. Dangerous. Exhilarating. Terrifying. It’s only a f**king turnstile, but what if I don’t make it to the other side. Some people never make it out of the mosh alive.
The deafening screech of train brakes announces the train is in the station.
Nick says, “Are we in this or not?”
To throw myself into the breach of our great divide will be a leap of faith.
I grab hold of his warm hand. Deep breath.
Ready.
Set.
Jump.