Nate's steps are a bit wobbly walking down the jet way. The five hour flight from Cartagena to New York must have shaken him up a bit. The longer we walk through the terminal, the more I realize how strange this must be for him. The only similarity between Rafael Nunez and JFK is they're both airports. The boy's brain must be going into overdrive trying to take in this new environment.

We walk down a hallway lined with shops and restaurants. Nate sniffs the air as we walk past a Cinnabon. A smile spreads across his face and a look of longing enters his eyes. "You like cinnamon?" I ask. He nods, but says nothing. "Do you want something?" He shakes his head no. "You sure? They have really good cinnamon rolls."

His eyes say yes, but he says, "No thanks."

I sigh and shake my head. "Kid. If you want something, just ask. The worst that'll happen is I'll say no."

I prompt him with a look and he hesitantly asks, "Can I have a cinnamon roll?"

"Why, of course, Nate. Thank you for asking." He laughs.

I buy Nate a cinnamon roll and a coffee for myself while the boy finds a table. Nate unwraps the pastry and just stares at it for a second as if he's making sure it's real. He then delicately picks it up and takes a small bite. Chewing slowly, he closes his eyes and smiles, savoring the sweet flavors. "It's good, huh?" I ask.

"Mm, it's perfect," he sighs. "It's so warm and flaky and it melts in your mouth and…" I've never seen anyone look so happy just to eat something.

Once he's done, we leave the terminal and I hail a cab. "Where do you want to go?" I ask Nate.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, where do you want to go?" I slam the cab door behind us. "We're in New York City. There's so many things to do here. Our flight is in the morning, so we have the whole day to do whatever we want."

"Okay then… Could we see the Empire State Building?"

"Sure. Good choice, kid." I tell the cabbie our destination and we begin our drive.

"Whoa…" Nate says staring up at New York's skyline. "They're so tall." He turns to me. "What do you call them?"

"Buildings?"

"No, there's a funny word I heard in a movie once. Doesn't it start with cloud...?"

"Do you mean skyscraper?"

"Oh yeah! Skyscraper! Ha, that's funny. Because they scrape the sky." He giggles to himself. "Skyscraper… What a silly word."

I smile to myself. He sounds like such a five-year-old sometimes. "Nate, how old are you?"

"Um…" He counts on his fingers. "Fourteen… no, fifteen?"

"You don't know how old you are?"

"Well… no. Not technically. I don't know when my birthday is, so I'm not exactly sure."

"You don't know when… That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Nate shrugs. "Usually I celebrate on New Year's Day. I like to pretend the fireworks are for me. Plus, it makes figuring out your age super easy. You just count the number of years you've been alive."

I didn't have the best childhood, but I at least had a birthday. It was the one day of the year I was the center of attention. Although I knew it wasn't sincere, it was nice to pretend my dad cared for me. There were presents and cake. I was even allowed to stay up late and watch TV. It wasn't much, but it was something. Nate's had nothing. "Okay, how 'bout this? Today we're gonna celebrate all the birthdays you never had. Today, it's all about you."

"You don't have to do that. Birthdays aren't a big deal."

"Well, I don't know about you, but a day celebrating me is the best day ever. You're gonna learn pretty quickly that I take my birthday pretty seriously."

He smiles. "Hey, if you insist."

"Alright, first stop, the Empire State Building."

I have a connection within the staff, so I pull a few strings and we jump to the front of the line. When we reach the top, Nate gasps as he steps out into the open air. He presses himself up to the fence that keeps people from falling off the roof. "Wow…" he whispers, gazing down at the chaos below him.

"Crazy, huh?" I ask. "It's amazing how many people can live in such a small area of land. They come from every corner of the earth, wanting to make a name for themselves. That's the beauty of New York City."

Nate gives me a funny look. "What, are you a poet?" I laugh. "But I agree. It is amazing." He takes a deep breath of the smoggy air. "You know, I've always wanted to come here. This is like a dream come—oh, Central Park!" He cuts himself off midsentence. "Can we go?"

"Sure, kid, whatever you want."

We take the elevator down and decide to walk to the park. Nate stays slightly ahead of me, bounding with unbridled enthusiasm. We turn a corner and see the huge, golden statue that famously stands before the ice rink in Rockefeller Center. "Can we—"

"Yes, we can ice skate," I reply, guessing his question before he can say it.

We wait in line and I pay the $20 fee for skates. Nate is a lot more confident on the ice than I am. He pushes out with long strides, not caring that he keeps slipping and falling. I stick near the wall, using it as a crutch. The first time my feet slip out from under me, Nate slides up next to me, doubled over with laughter. This must have thrown his balance off, because he falls over, too. "What are you laughing at, Mr. Two-Left-Feet?" I ask with a smile. People cast weird glances our way as they go around us.

"At least I don't look like a crotchety old man holding onto the wall for dear life."

"Ouch, is that a challenge?"

"First one to fall loses."

"Are we allowed to touch the wall?"

"Absolutely not. That's cheating."

"What's the prize? Ice cream?"

"Yeah, ice cream."

"Alright, let's make it official." I spit on my hand and hold it out to Nate.

"Ew." He makes a face, but he follows suit. We shake hands, then help each other to our feet.

We start off in silence. Things get serious when ice cream's at stake. I gently bump Nate's arm teasingly. "Hey, no bumping!" he protests.

"That wasn't in the rules." I nudge him again a bit harder.

Nate laughs and pushes me back. We keep shoving each other and we eventually both lose our balance. We grab onto each other, but this doesn't save us and we take a tumble. "This doesn't count," Nate says as we lay on the ice.

I blow a warm breath into my hands. "You know what? It's time to go. I'm freezing my damn ass off."

"So, it was a tie?"

"Yes, a tie. We both get ice cream."

He shrugs. "Fair enough. But I want a rematch."

"Oh, trust me. We'll find something suitable for a competition of such high caliber soon enough, kid."

I sit on the roof of the apartment building, looking at the city all lit up. I can see my breath in the winter air. It's still freezing with my thick coat on, but I don't care. In a few minutes, I'll be 18 years old, a legal citizen of the United States. Well, legal if my birth certificate wasn't forged and I had a legitimate passport.

I hear clanging coming from the fire escape. A few seconds later, Sully climbs over the small wall and sits next to me. He's carrying a wrapped box and two glasses. "Goddamn, it's freezing out here," he says.

"Well, it is the middle of winter," I respond.

"Mm hm." He hands me a glass. "Here. It's champagne."

Surprised, I take the glass and ask, "Apple cider champagne or champagne champagne?"

"It's the real deal, kid."

"Sully, I'm turning 18, not 21."

"I know, but you only turn 18 once. Besides, it's New Year's Eve. We should celebrate."

"Okay, cool." I place the glass on the ground and sigh. "I can't believe I'm gonna be 18. I never thought I'd even make it to being a teenager."

"Life holds many surprises, kid."

"Like… birthday surprises?" I ask, referring to the wrapped box.

"Alright, here." Sully gives me the gift. "It's not technically your birthday yet, but I'll make an exception." I carefully pick the tape off the wrapping paper and unfold it to reveal a cardboard box underneath. Sully scoffs at my cautiousness. "You know, I have yet to meet someone who unwraps things like you do. Normal people just rip it off."

I roll my eyes and open the box's flaps. I gasp at its contents. My face splits into a smile as I lift the watch from the velvet it's resting on. It has a thick leather cuff that spans the diameter of the watch face. "Oh my god," I whisper. "Sully, this is awesome."

"Well, my father gave me a watch on my eighteenth birthday and my grandfather gave one to him on his eighteenth birthday and so on. It's sort of a tradition."

Sully helps me strap it on my wrist. It's kind of difficult to do in the dark of night. "Thank you," I say, admiring it in the dim starlight.

"You're welcome, kid."

Suddenly, we hear people counting down from ten. When they get to one, everyone cheers as fireworks crackle and fizz into existence. I raise my glass and say, "Happy New Year's, Sully."

He taps his glass onto mine. "Happy birthday, Nate."

We drink our champagne. I make a face at the taste. "Ack, gross!"

Sully chuckles. "Not quite what you were expecting, huh?"

I shake my head no. "You'd think it'd taste better since it costs so much."

"It's an acquired taste. You'll get used to it."

I shrug my shoulders and take another sip. I almost spit it out again. "It's not getting any better."

"That's not how it works, kid." He laughs and ruffles my hair. "Before we go inside, I've got another surprise for you."

"Awesome!" He pulls an envelope out from under his jacket. Careful not to rip it, I break the seal. I take extra long just to get on Sully's nerves. Inside is a check.

For $113,863.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I look at Sully in disbelief. My mouth and brain refuse to work together to form words. "It's okay, take your time," Sully smiles.

"I can't accept this," I say. "I mean… it's super cool and everything, but… it's… it's too much. I'm not worth this much."

"Nate, it's yours. Every job we've done, I've taken your share of the money and put it away. I was going to give it to you when you were old enough to use it. And well…" He shrugs. "Here we are."

Fireworks boom around us, seemingly outnumbering the stars. Shadows dance across the floor, making strange patterns and shapes. "That's… I mean, that's…" I take a deep breath, attempting to corral my thoughts. "Nobody's ever… God, why is this so hard?"

"You don't need to say anything."

"I do, actually." I wrap my arms around Sully and he grunts in surprise. "Thank you so much," I whisper.

After he recovers from his shock, he returns the gesture in kind. "Don't thank me, kid. Thank yourself. You earned it."

I pull back and look him in eye to make sure he knows I mean it. "No, thank you for everything you've done. You took me in, gave me a home, fed me, tolerated me and my stupidity, and… and everything in between. I don't know where I'd be right now without you. Actually I do know. I'd probably be six feet under somewhere-"

"Nate," Sully interrupts, "I get it. You're grateful."

"Yeah. Sorry, was I rambling again?"

"A little, but it's appreciated. Now, let's get inside. The firework show is over and it's freezing out here."

"Agreed." We climb back down the fire escape and into my room. I take off my coat and hang it in my closet. Yawning, I flop onto my bed, not bothering with the covers. "Goodnight, Sully," I call after him.

"Goodnight, kid," he says, drawing the door closed behind him.

"Oh, don't forget to-"

"I know, I know. Leave the door cracked. How could I forget?"

"You always forget," I mumble.

"I don't forget. I do it on purpose to get you riled up."

"Why?"

"Because it's funny."

"Asshole."

"Asshole," he mimics me in a high pitched voice.

"You're such a five-year-old."

"You're not much better, Mr. Eats-Ice-Cream-For-Breakfast."

"That was one time!"

"One time I'll never let you forget."

"Oh, like that one time that hooker slapped you in the hotel lobby in front of our client?"

"Shut up and go to sleep," Sully grumbles, smiling in spite of himself. He then gently closes the door behind him.

I take a moment to settle under the covers, then I call, "Sully?"

The door opens far enough for Sully to poke his head through. His gaze is steady and warm. Well, as warm as his grey eyes can get. I'm not very good at reading Sully sometimes, but I would say that look means he's prepared to do anything I ask of him. And for once, that doesn't make me want to turn tail and run. "Yeah, kid?" he asks.

"Leave the door cracked." I snicker at Sully's annoyed huffing and eye rolling. Sometimes it seems like he's the teenager.