Chapter 34
34
My dreams were inspired by a jumble of New York memories. Like the time Margaret came to visit, claiming she needed to buy “discounted boots in Woodbury Commons.”
Two Martini Sours later, the real reason emerged.
“You should buy an apartment,” she said. “It’s what we all think. This is a great time to get a mortgage. Interest rates are blah-dee-blah…” I watched her mouth moving; the occasional word fell out—“property prices,” “financial crash”—but couldn’t find a landing place in me.
“You could just about do it financially,” she insisted. “All you spend money on is rent, airfares to Ireland and trains to Boston to see Aidan’s family. Look, Anna, losing Aidan is one of the worst things anyone will have to live through. But your life isn’t over.”
It was, though. I was still walking around feeling as if a thick pane of glass separated me from the world.
“Is it this apartment?” My home with Aidan. “Do you feel if you leave, you’ll be abandoning him?”
“No.” Aidan was everywhere but nowhere. “I don’t think I’ll renew the lease here when it’s next up—”
“—so you need to buy a place!”
“I could just move in with Jacqui and Trea. I’m there a lot anyway.” More and more so, as Joey’s flakiness had worsened.
“That might change.”
“How would it change? Look, if I was going to buy a place, I’d do it with Jacqui. For me, her and Trea—”
“Don’t do that!” She looked worried. “You’re not always going to feel the way you do now. You won’t want to box yourself in…” She checked herself. “You’ll still see Jacqui all the time. But buy a place by yourself.”
She promptly signed me up with every realtor in Manhattan so I was bombarded with emails and calls inviting me to view my “dream home.” I’d have ignored them all, except that Margaret rang with regular motivational speeches, along the lines of: Future Anna will thank Current Anna if she buys her a beautiful apartment.
Over the hubbub of noisy, fashionable New York arty types, I heard, “Hey, Anna.”
I turned. “Hey!” It was Rachel’s friend, Angelo. Who had sort of become my friend too, over the previous few years.
We hugged. “Congratulations.” I was unsure of the etiquette when a person had organized an art expo to showcase their clients. “Great turnout. Really beautiful pieces.”
With his tattoos, dark clothes and gaunt face, Angelo looked like trouble and torment. But he was compassionate, optimistic and fun.
Sexy too, I was beginning to understand. In the two and a half years since Aidan, I’d been entirely numb, but I could see how others reacted. At first glance, they were all, Not a chance . Two seconds later, they’d go, Waaaait a minute . And before you knew it, they’d be full-on, Right! I get it! Hot in an ugly-beautiful way!
Today’s exhibition was in an ungentrified but safe part of the Lower East Side, in which the rich guests could savor a sneaky thrill at their own edginess.
“Seen any pieces that speak to you?” he asked.
“Um. Actually, yes . A painting, but made of glass? Under the sea?”
“Parsla Koskinen. Let’s go take a look.”
We slipped through skinny women and boomy-voiced men, carefully skirting the central exhibit, a huge bull made entirely of cutlery.
Angelo stopped before a large colorful rectangle. “This?”
The piece was patterned with tendrils of glass in a hundred vivid greens, like seaweed in bright blue water. The skill with which they’d been woven in and out of each other made it seem as if they were swaying. Rising towards the surface, balls of clear glass were layered on the seaweed—water bubbles. A line of gritty gold—sand, obviously—lay at the base of the piece.
“I could look at it forever,” I said. “Go on, break my heart and tell me the price.”
He said a number and while it was a lot, it wasn’t entirely ridiculous.
…But I needed all my money to buy an apartment, didn’t I? I’d never before acknowledged it as a reality.
Dolefully I shook my head. “I’m wondering how hard life would be with just one kidney? Then again, this would be a literal heirloom. Something for my grandkids to fight over.” I stopped. “I don’t know why I even said that. There won’t be grandkids. Because there won’t be kids.”
“…Maybe I’m overstepping boundaries but can I ask why?”
I couldn’t help smiling. He was charming and lovely, a total Mr Sensitive. Tone-perfect always.
“Please don’t judge.” But he was the least judgy person I’d ever met. “Since as far as I can remember, I never wanted to be trapped. Especially with people I’m afraid of. It’s my idea of hell.”
“Uh-uh.”
“I love my sisters. Like, I really love them. But they’re huge personalities. I’m not like them. Growing up, there was a lot of yelling…I couldn’t deal—”
“Why can’t we all just get along?” he interjected.
I laughed. “That’s genuinely how I feel.”
“Me too. I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
It was so nice being with a person who got it. “What if my kids were like my family? Because if they were my kids, I couldn’t just run away.”
“Yep.” He was solemn.
“The only time kids seemed possible was with Aidan. But without him…” I shrugged. “What about you?”
“Lots of reasons. Already too many of us on the planet. But I totally get the family thing. Mine was messy.”
I knew some details: his mom was an addict and his dad a sporadic presence. His first fifteen years were chaos.
“They weren’t bad people but they did damage. I got out. Got better. Today, it’s all good, but it takes work. So yeah, I’m scared that having kids would mean the return of anarchy. If that makes me selfish, then I’m selfish.”
“You’re honest and…and you’ve found a way to live life with your stuff. That’s good.”
“Thank you, Anna.”
“For nothing. Just telling you the truth.”
Silence fell between us. It went on a little too long. One of us needed to speak.
“So!” Angelo cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing. Parsla’s having a solo show in ten days. There are three more pieces like this, but smaller. Meaning they cost less. The dealer’s this really cool guy, he could be persuaded to skip his commission.”
I had to check. “The dealer is you?”
He flashed a smile. “Just come to the opening. See if you like anything.”
“Will you be there?” It was a stupid question: of course he’d be there. But it wasn’t what I’d meant.
Some small shift had taken place deep down in me. I felt dizzy. Then hot with guilt.
My phone rang. Jacqui. My heart slid into my boots.
—
Something has to change here. The thought shocked me.
“He’s in an actual fucking bar, I could hear it.” Jacqui was in tears. “Says he doesn’t know when he’ll get here.”
I swallowed back my feelings. “On my way.”
First I had to make a call. “Angelo? So sorry but I have to bail tonight.”
After a moment’s silence, he asked, “Watching Trea? Hey, don’t worry. If any of Parsla’s seascapes don’t sell, I’ll message you.”
I was barely in the door when Jacqui flung herself into my arms. “He’s a dick. He’s ruined my life.”
“Shush!” I was terrified Trea would hear. Only sixteen months old, but I sensed she understood plenty.
“I get it.” I spoke quietly. Jacqui’s life used to be fun and carefree. Now she was always tired and always angry. “Oh, hi, sweetie.” Trea had toddled in, kitted out in a sparkly fairy costume. “Don’t you look delicious!”
“Flammable shite,” Jacqui said. “Courtesy of her useless dad. Thinking he can just buy her love. If only I never had to see him. The constant disappointment, not just for me, but for…” She flicked her eyes at Trea.
Trea stared back.
“Jacqui.” I decided to take a risk. “I don’t think Joey’s going to change. He’s not going to become the man you want him to be.”
“Yeah.” She bent to kiss Trea. “Be good for Anna. Your dad might be here later. But he might not. I’m sorry, baby.” Her voice wobbled. “He’s a flake.”
“Jacqui…”
“Sorry. I know.” She wiped away tears. Poor Jacqui was going insane from this. I’d suggested she see her doctor but she insisted that nothing was wrong with her , the only person who needed to change was Joey.
“ Any way.” She sniffed. “Gotta go. Table’s booked for eight o’clock.”
Wait. What? “Which celeb is it tonight?”
“Not work. Karl.”
She was going on a date . Meanwhile I’d canceled something I’d wanted to do, in order to mind her little girl?
But how could I feel resentful when I’d assured her again and again she could depend on me?
Off she went. I’d coaxed Trea into her little white wooden bed when I thought I heard the front door. I went out to check and there was Joey.
“Anna, I know.” He spoke quickly. “I’m late. But three days ago, I told Jacqui I couldn’t commit to the time she wanted tonight.”
Stonily, I looked at him.
“She set me up to fail. Not for the first time.”
He was beyond contempt. Messing us all around and maligning Jacqui.
“She asleep?” He cast glances at Trea’s bedroom. “Can I check on her? Then can you and I talk?”
About what? But he was gone. I didn’t know if this was just a flying visit so I had to wait.
Judging by his murmured cadences, he was reading a story. After a while the plinky-plonky lullaby started, then he came out and softly closed the door.
He sighed. “So cute when she’s asleep.”
“You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for doing this to you yet again. You having to bail me out.”
“You were in a bar when she called.”
“A restaurant, actually. Because I was working. Trying to pull this thing together so I can buy Jacqui her own apartment.”
I had only the vaguest idea of what his job was—something on the lower rungs in finance. “What ‘thing’ were you trying to pull together?”
“A business deal. Didn’t Jacqui tell you? No?” He clenched his jaw, then sighed. “I can explain. If you want? Simplest terms, there are rich guys in this city with money to invest. I’ve a knack for seeing struggling businesses with potential. I do my research, run numbers on potential outcomes, then go to the money men with a proposal. If they invest their cash into something that becomes a success, I get a cut.”
“Is somebody backing you?”
“Just me.”
“So…where do you meet these rich men?”
His tone was weary. “That’s the hard part. Even harder is persuading them you’re not a grifter who’ll lose their investment. But if you get one of them to trust you, it gives you a foot in the door. If you make them a profit, even better.
“I know that whenever Jacqui rings, it sounds like I’m in a bar or restaurant. Because often I am. Trying to make these guys trust me. And yeah, it’s always guys.”
It was exactly what I did in my job: convince people that I was for real. But, there was one big difference between his job and mine: I had a company credit card. “ You’re the one paying for the wine and dinner, without knowing if anything will come of it?”
“Yeah.” He looked gray with exhaustion. “She tells me I’m the world’s worst dad. But I’m working my butt off for Trea. Maybe you don’t know but I pay the rent for this place.” He indicated Jacqui’s beautiful apartment. “And I’m in a shitty one-bed, sharing with Gaz.” Quickly he said, “Not complaining. Just saying I’m not a terrible dad.
“Anna.” He paused. “I hate admitting this now but I didn’t want a kid. I knew nothing about them, all I had was one older brother, so when I got Jacqui pregnant I freaked out. But now Trea’s in the world, I love her. Like, I love her so much and I want her to have everything.”
I believed he loved her. The previous weekend, I’d met them both at a picnic with Rachel, Luke and various Real Men. It was obvious that they were mad about each other. But equally clear was that Joey’s version of responsible parenthood was “To provide.”
“Jacqui just wants you to spend more time with Trea,” I said.
“Yeah, but—I can’t do both. Not right now. This thing I’m doing, it’s not nine to five. My first really big deal is maybe about to happen. Three different investors are buying an ex-cargo liner to convert to a luxury cruiser. But all this last-minute legalese has blown up and I’m running around putting out fires, shit-scared it’ll all fall apart.”
“Where did you learn how to do this?” I wouldn’t have known where to start. “Did you go to school?”
“Nah.” His laugh was tight. “I come from a family of entrepreneurs.”
“What sort of business?”
“They can turn their hand to pretty much everything. So, Anna, I’m here now. You can go.” With an attempt at humor, he said, “You and me, it’s like we’re trapped in one of those movies.” He waved his hand. “Groundhog night. Me saying, again and again, ‘Sorry for ruining your evening but I’m here now.’?”
It was probably too late to get to the gallery to see Angelo. “Joey, you look really tired. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”
“No. I’m good. Thanks again. See ya next time.”
—
A few weeks later, I woke one morning at Jacqui’s and found Joey in the kitchen, suited-up, smelling fresh and making coffee. It was very early, barely 6 a.m., and for a confused moment, I thought he’d just arrived.
“Anna, hey.” He smiled, giving off the energy of a man about to embark on a day of successful wheeler-dealing. Then I stumbled into the truth: last night Joey had come home with Jacqui.
No need to ask where he’d slept.
Perhaps this was the start of their reunion? A vision appeared, of a future where Joey, Jacqui and Trea were a happy, cohabitating family—followed by a head rush of relief which kept me in great form for the rest of the day.