The first thing Harley really heard from her friend came via the associated press. William Vaughan’s article left Harley feeling cold and insubstantial and the stream of news that followed did nothing to ease anyone’s anxiety.
When she got the call from her brother, Harley at last felt some shred of hope. It wasn’t much really, but doing something to help her friend was all Harley really wanted. In other circumstances, Har would’ve been beyond excited to explore the Big Apple. In all honesty, she had at one time daydreamed that someday she and MJ would get an apartment in NYC together and live life like a bad sit com about two country girls adapting to the city life…that had never happened, but it hardly put a stop to Harley’s interest in her friend’s much more sophisticated milieu.
As it was, this trip was far more four than a younger Harley would have anticipated. Sitting beside her brother, clogged in traffic, Harley leaned over and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said, smiling sadly. “MJ needs friends around her, now, more than ever.” If MJ had had this same collapse in a place Harley found completely in appealing, such as the deserts off in the west, she’d be saying the same thing. MJ needed them. That was all that mattered.
“You know what,” she added, peering out the window. “We’ve been sitting in place here for almost ten minutes, and the hospital should be just around the block. Let’s pay the cabbie and walk it?” she suggested.
The walk wasn't terribly far and, in fact, she was grateful for the fresh air. She knew she'd need every bit of freedom she could take with her: MJ might have need of it. "Ready?" She asked her brother before stepping inside. "Hi, we're looking for Maggie Jean Monroe...or she might be here under the last name Westwood..."
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