And They Had a Great Fall

Chapter Three

chapter three

U nder seventy-two hours later, Kat woke with a start as the plane touched down in Copenhagen. She stretched her legs, took in a deep breath, and ran her fingers through the tangles that had formed in the back of her hair. The eight-hour-and-fifteen-minute flight from New York to Copenhagen had been a special form of drudgery, especially stuck in the middle seat of row 27.

As the plane taxied to the gate, she switched her phone off Airplane Mode. She wasn’t surprised to see texts from Jake. Five, to be exact.

J: Hi!

J: Glad you got on the plane okay. Not sure if you have your phone on? Probably not. Sleeping? Doubt it if you’re in coach (why didn’t you let me book the flight? I would have put you in first class … duh).

J: Anyway … I wish you would let me pick you up (really). I have good disguises. It’s better here than in the US. Less paparazzi fuckers.

J: Shit. I’m going to be late. We have night scenes to shoot tonight. You get in at 7? I’ll be home around 9. My keypad entry is 7302. Text me if you didn’t write down my address.

J: Can’t wait to see you. Might be closer to 10. Not sure.

She let out a laugh at his flurry of texts. He was a lot to take in all at once: brilliant, manic, confident, and unsure, all rolled up in one person. She wouldn’t deny how excited she was to be in the same orbit as Jake, even for just ten short days. After a year of dwindling texts, video chats, phone calls, and any other way of staying connected without actually connecting, she didn’t know how she would feel when she was in the same room as him. Until he’d called, they hadn’t had any contact in over four months. During the flight, she couldn’t stop wondering why Jake was so troubled, and, after all this time, why hers was the number he dialed.

She walked at a brisk pace through the Copenhagen airport and barely looked at her phone as she shot off a quick text to Jake.

K: Just off the plane. No rush. Do what you need to get done. See you at your place later .

Next, she texted Linda, letting her know she’d arrived safely. She reconfirmed Becca’s bedtime. The grandparents indulged Becca far more than Kat did, and Linda let Becca stay up way too late. She could at least remind Linda of the rules and ask her to try to keep Becca on schedule. She glanced at her watch once she was through customs and immigration: 7:35 p.m. She gave herself an internal high five for how fast she could navigate an airport.

She’d prearranged a car to take her to Jake’s temporary apartment. Kat handled all her own logistics for her peace of mind, because although Jake had the best intentions, his schedule was not his own. It didn’t take her long to locate the driver holding up an iPad with her name on it.

He looked surprised. “You were fast!” he said, eyeing her single carry-on suitcase. “Welcome to Copenhagen. Do you need to grab your bags?”

She shook her head. “No, I always carry on. This is it.” She didn’t trust the airlines enough to ever check a bag. Too risky.

The twenty-minute ride from the airport to Jake’s apartment gave her enough time to call Becca. As FaceTime connected, she could overhear Becca’s sweet voice negotiating with Linda to hold the device by herself.

“Hi, Momma!” she said, her face peering into the camera.

Kat waved to Becca with her free hand. “Hi Sweetheart!” she said. “Are you having so much fun at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

Becca nodded with the unbridled enthusiasm of a five-year-old. “We had lunch. It was fun do!”

Kat looked into the phone, scrunching up her nose. “What?” she asked. She heard Linda giggling and saying “fondue” in the background.

“Oh, fondooo,” Becca said, correcting herself. “We ate with fairy forks. I want to use them for every meal,” she said, referring to the fondue skewers. She held one up so close to the camera it took up the entire screen. “This is my favorite. The purple one.” Kat was not surprised. A meal consisting of cheese and bread would appeal to any almost six-year-old, especially her imaginative, sweet girl, who turned skewers into fairy utensils.

Kat felt a twinge of guilt that she was gone. She knew it was entirely self-inflicted, but the twinge was there. It settled Kat to hear her voice and know that Becca was bubbly and happy and any angst about them being apart was solely felt by the mom and not the child. “So, honey, what are you going to do the rest of the day? I mean, the fairy forks sound amazing, not sure your day could get any better,” she teased.

“Mini golf!” Becca exclaimed. “Oh, goodbye Momma, Daisy needs me.” And with that, she thrust the phone to Linda and ran after their dog.

Kat spoke to Linda for a minute and reminded her of the chemical-free sunscreen in Becca’s suitcase. The fall sun could be harsh, and Kat didn’t take any chances. Hitting “end” on her phone, she tucked it in the pocket of her light jacket.

As she rode through the city center, Kat leaned her head back on the soft, leather seats as she gazed out the window. This was not her first time in Copenhagen; she had visited as a stop on her honeymoon with Ben almost seven years ago. Kat had insisted on seeing Copenhagen to visit the birthplace of PathMobile, a company she had just joined and where she wanted to build her career. Nostalgia crept in as she once again saw the vibrant city, the colorful buildings, and the steady stream of bicycles that flowed through the streets.

It was a beautiful autumn evening, and the air had a crispness as the cooler weather of fall was beginning to peek around the corner. The city felt alive and seemed to infuse its inhabitants with its own vibrancy. She was struck by how it directly contrasted with New York City, which was chaotic, tough, and sometimes soul-sucking, giving credence to the idea that “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere,” as if a city was something to be survived. She was taken by how Copenhagen looked clean and sparkling, so different from the raw landscape of Manhattan. The copper spires and cobblestone streets appealed to her in a way that metal and asphalt never had. Kat had wondered if being in Copenhagen on her honeymoon had made her romanticize the city, but even today, she felt the same magic.

The car pulled up to the address Jake had texted her, a bright yellow, three-story building near the Nyhavn canal. It was connected to other buildings, green and blue, and looked like a facade of a movie set. It looked like the kind of place Jake would choose—creative, offbeat, in the thick of the action, but with zero pretension.

She tipped the driver, walked into the building, and realized it was a walk-up with no elevator. She threw on her backpack, picked up her single roller bag, and started climbing the stairs. By the time she got to Jake’s floor, she was thankful she’d packed light. She found 3F at the end of the hall, typed the code in the keypad, and turned the heavy handle to open the door.

She flipped on the lights, and the first thing she noticed was the classic Danish architecture—clean lines, functional, and bright. There was a small kitchen that opened to the living room, which was painted with a bright geometric pattern. In any other place, it might look garish, but here, it added an artistic charm. She rolled her suitcase down the hall and saw the open door to his bedroom, with triangular ceilings mimicking the roofline. Large skylights poured moonlight over his unmade bed.

She let out a sigh and looked around. What she saw gave her an insight into Jake’s life at the moment. His apartment was a disaster. It wasn’t just the disarray, but despite living there for three weeks, it was clear that he hadn’t moved in. A suitcase bursting with clothes sat in the corner of the en-suite bathroom, a mountainous pile of sneakers resided near his closet, take-out containers filled his trash, and books were scattered across the kitchen table. Actually, books and drawings covered most of the tables. She chuckled to herself. It screamed Jake, bursting with light, color, and chaos.

J ake stole a glance at his phone for the tenth time that day. He told himself it was to check the time, but it was really to see if Kat had texted him again. He read her last text: “No rush … see you at your place.…” Kat had a way of making it clear that she didn’t really need him—or anyone, for that matter. Didn’t need him to pick her up, didn’t need him to tell her how to get to his place, didn’t even need him to be there when she arrived in a foreign country. If it were Jake, he would’ve had a whole team to help him. Not Kat. She seems to always have everything under control , he thought.

He still couldn’t figure out how to move through the world with her kind of calm rationality. He felt an overwhelming sense of life coming at him, and it simultaneously terrified and thrilled him.

But today, nothing thrilled him, and he wanted it to be over. They were finishing a list of over-the-shoulder and long-range shots, none of which required any acting. It only required him to stand still or hit a mark, like a prop. He believed Garren was punishing him for his shitty work these past few weeks by making him stay this late and do these shots. A stand-in would do this grunt work, but they had changed the schedule and his stand-in was not available until the following week. Jake’s stomach dropped and his anxiety heightened as he thought about the new shooting schedule.

Garren finally called “cut” for the last time that night. Some of the crew clapped. No one liked the tedious process of pickup and bridging shots, and they’d been at it for hours. Garren called out to say goodbye and that one of the production assistants would send a new schedule in a day or so. He sounded light, but Jake knew enough about filmmaking to know a schedule change was always a big deal.

Shit. It was late. Much later than he’d predicted. Kat was at his apartment, probably pissed. He had asked her to come but hadn’t expected her to actually get on a plane and show up. But she had. And for her first night ever in Copenhagen, he’d made her hang out in his messy apartment. Alone. While he was in the middle of the worst job of his life.

K at looked at the time on her phone. After taking a quick shower and unpacking her things, it was already 11:15. Jake was later than she’d expected. With Jake not home, she was relieved to get some time to concentrate on work. She had a crushing amount of email piled up from the hours she was in flight.

She set her laptop on the kitchen counter and laid eyes on a small bag sitting by the far edge. She pulled off a note with her name on it, written in Jake’s unmistakable scrawl:

Kat,

I remembered you like black licorice (which, btw, I think tastes like day-old coffee grounds left in the trash). It’s a big deal in Denmark. The store said it was called “zoute drop” and it’s salted black licorice (which, btw, sounds worse … like you found aforementioned coffee grounds and accidentally spilled salt on them), but … regardless … enjoy. See you soon.

—Jake

She laughed as she read his note. She could hear his voice giving her a hard time for her love of the often scorned, bitter candy. Kat pulled out a cellophane bag tied with a silver ribbon, opened it, and popped one of the deliciously salty, bitter nibs in her mouth. She took her time chewing the sticky candy, delighting in the extra sharp flavor.

She settled in and opened her laptop. She was ready to wind down, and work was the best way she knew how. She was not embarrassed to admit, while other people might unwind and relax with a book or movie, she enjoyed a good spreadsheet. Numbers were absolute. She understood them. Analyzing numbers to find efficiencies, patterns, and opportunities was her own form of meditation.

It was barely 5:00 p.m. New York time, but since it was a Friday, Kat didn’t want to keep the team for long. They worked through the unit projection spreadsheet from the sales team, and eventually the only person left on the line was Emily.

Kat opened a bottle of wine she had bought at a shop on the corner and poured herself a glass. When she’d first arrived at Jake’s apartment, she’d realized that not only was it a mess, but the only things in the fridge were some condiments and milk, and the pantry only contained various protein powder and bars. She assumed he must be doing some physical transformation for this film. It made her curious about the movie being filmed and the role he was playing. After taking stock, she rushed down to Kihoskh, a wine and convenience store on the corner, before they closed for the evening. This was her routine whenever she was traveling, and this would be no different. She took a sip, forgetting she was on video.

“Ahhh, that looks good!” said Emily still typing. “Oh wait, what time is it there?”

“It’s 11:22 p.m. here. Late. But I haven’t adjusted to the time change. It usually takes me at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before I feel normal.” She leaned back in her chair. “Emily, it’s Friday. Get out of there. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Yes, I’m leaving soon. Hey, looking at your background, where are you staying?” Emily asked. The question was innocuous, and Kat answered jumped in with a quick answer. “A temporary apartment. It’s right off the canal. It’s nice.” She left out the detail of exactly whose apartment it was.

Emily stopped typing and looked into her screen. “Nice. And when do you meet the Denmark team? Will you see them this weekend?” Kat knew Emily was just making friendly conversation, but the questions were beginning to unnerve her.

“I’ll see them on Monday. I’m visiting one of my friends this weekend. They’re working in Copenhagen as well,” Kat said, trying to keep her tone light and casual. She didn’t want to completely lie to Emily, who she counted as one of her few friends, but she also didn’t want to cause more questions.

“Interesting coincidence,” said Emily, raising her eyebrows.

Kat cut her off before she could say more. “Yes. I was going to come in November, post-launch, but I moved it up to observe the Denmark pre-order period. It made it easy to say yes at the last minute. I can work, but I can also see my friend while they’re still here.”

“Interesting pronoun, too, Kat,” Emily said with a wink. “Want to tell me about this ‘they’ mystery person?”

Kat laughed and shook her head. “Go home, Emily. Have a good weekend.” She and Emily were friends, but Kat was still the boss. She never knew how much of herself to reveal and always erred on the side of not sharing at all.

Once the call ended, Kat worked on her final emails and refilled her wine glass. She was just about to text Jake and see if he was okay—he was rarely on time, but this was late, even for him—when she heard the keypad beep. Her stupid stomach fluttered, realizing he had arrived.