Chapter 42
2 February 2024
Brynn’s NYC Missions:
(NB: This one’s the hardest one. I didn’t realise what mine was until long after I’d arrived home. Hint: she was small and brown and beautiful and was the first great love of my life.)
Find the magic in the city. It might not be what you expected it to be.
People are in a typical New York hurry at the airport, despite the fact it’s nine at night. Heels clatter on the shiny floor, kids scream, coffee machines whirr, and every few minutes there’s an announcement over the loudspeaker. I juggle my coffee from hand to hand so I can unhook my backpack and stash it on a chair, then sit down heavily next to it. Sipping my drink, I open Instagram on my phone and post a carousel of pictures of the last few weeks: a bunch of the crew at the Cat’s Meow, Sienna dressed in her feather showgirl outfit, the two of us snuggled in bed, me and Corey in a shoe shop, me and Hilde and Cruz with Robert in the hospital while he gets his chemo. I caption it: ‘Farewell NYC!’
It doesn’t take long before the comments start rolling in.
‘Safe travels sissy. Can’t wait to hug the crap out of you,’ from Dotty back home.
‘Can’t wait to work with you!’ from Robbie Parker.
‘The dogs of Dogue’s will miss you,’ comments Perdita’s mum.
Hilde texts me a picture of herself with a paint roller, covering up the magenta pink wall in my old bedroom in Corey’s apartment: ‘Back home with Corey and Jenny,’ she says and I am so happy that she broke up with Mason at Christmas and immediately came and slept on Jenny until I properly moved out. It felt right that she had moved back in.
I flick back to the Insta comments.
‘Still crying over losing the roommate with the cutest accent ever,’ posts Corey. ‘My intergenerational trauma is lonely with no one to share.’
‘Love you,’ writes Sienna. She also texts me: ‘Miss you more than you’ll ever know.’
She’s promised me that long distance can work and kissed away my tears at the check-in desk, saying over and over, ‘Six months. It’s not that long.’ We are still planning on her coming to Australia when she’s done with her studies.
‘This is not the end,’ she said. ‘It’s just the beginning.’
I slip the phone back into my bag and gather myself, trying to think about all the good things I’ve achieved in the past seven months.
My New York was not the city of fabulous publishing jobs, fancy cocktails at bars every night of the week, and dates with handsome men. My New York was the city of dirty jeans, second-hand boots and minimum wage. It was of late-night-diner disco fries, doughnuts, and bagels. It was a city where I had just the right smell to get the attention of every dog who passed. It was a place with good friends who listened to what I had to say, who gave their opinions but who loved me no matter what. It was weird jobs, casting calls, low wages, and people doing it hard. It was falling in love with a girl named Sienna.
And , I think as I unzip the top of my backpack to run my hand over the tawny Louboutin box from Corey, it was the city where I got an amazing pair of shoes .