Chapter 10
It’s no wonder Cash has always wanted to live in New York.
The city seems to have a costume change for every season.
When we daytripped to the West Village for Pride in June, it was in its summer best—brownstones with flower boxes bursting with lilacs, city dwellers strolling with iced coffees, rooftop fairy lights visible from street level.
And now, even though pumpkins linger on a few stoops, it’s obvious that Brooklyn is solidly in its Christmas era.
There are bows on wrought iron railings and lawn ornaments even where there are no actual lawns (Naomi would approve).
Strings of bulbs on the trees line the streets, and though they aren’t turned on yet, a vision of how this will look all lit up later dances in my head.
There are no humans to film right now, but the whole scene is thrumming with heart and holiday spirit, not the trappings themselves but the little personal touches that went into creating this Yuletide vignette just like back home.
There’s something unique about this feeling—this place being totally new, yet a touch familiar. Like Christmas helps you find a little bit of home anywhere.
There’s a life-sized animatronic Grinch in someone’s window. I must point this out to Cash, but when I turn to grab his arm, he’s busy having a sort of party of his own, bouncing around sideways.
“Dude, what’s happening south of your knees?” Diya asks, clocking it at the same time.
Cash looks like he’s just been caught swiping the last seasonal Oreo. He starts violently making a slashing gesture to the two of us behind his boyfriend’s back, but it’s too late.
“Oh, babe, you didn’t. How did I not see this before?” Izaac says, pressing his fingers to his temples and shaking his head as his eyes dart between Cash’s feet and his face. Diya and I trade perplexed glances. “You seriously wore a brand - new pair of boots into the city?”
“Not again ,” Diya says, and throws her hands up.
“Oh, Cash ,” I groan, and when he says nothing, I put a hand on his shoulder and add, “I don’t mean to pile on, buddy, but should we be concerned about a repeat performance?”
This is not our first rodeo when it comes to Cash prioritizing fashion over function.
Two years ago when we took a road trip to the Big E—a sprawling New England county fair—he wore a pair of cowboy boots he insisted were made for the occasion.
But what he didn’t tell us until we were halfway through our thirty thousand steps was that they were cutting into his heels.
It was so bad that we had to get one of those little motorized scooters to get him through the rest of the day.
Naomi called him “Scoots” for a month when she heard the story.
“I blame myself,” Izaac says. “I should have inspected your entire outfit.”
“Come on, I’m having such a PHD today,” Cash argues with a bit of a whine. “I needed footwear that could live up!”
“PHD?” Diya asks me under her breath.
“Perfect Hair Day,” I say back.
I get it, sort of. Cash has never exactly fit in. Between the farm and Ripton High he doesn’t have many chances to show off.
“I can’t right now.” Izaac rubs his temples.
“Come on, let the man have a moment with his boots,” I say in an attempt to defend Cash.
But Diya starts in on a lecture. This boot offense violates her laws about interacting with nature, and she has less than zero patience for that.
“Have you learned nothing working on a farm? You do not break in shoes when you’re not close to home. Blisters equal death .”
“Death is a touch dramatic, mayhaps, but point taken,” Cash tells her. “I’m fine, y’all.”
“You’re going to have to inform us if it gets bad,” Izaac says, his voice strained. “And even then, I can’t promise we won’t abandon your stylish ass.”
They turn together in disapproval and start to walk away ahead of us, while Cash lowers his voice to say only to me, “They begged to come, B. I couldn’t say no—just look at them.”
“I know, buddy,” I say. I can’t help but smile, and I flip my camera on his feet. “Okay, run those moves back for me.”
“It’s right up here,” Izaac announces when we turn off a brownstone-lined street, and onto a more commercial one.
He points to a string of buildings with retail on the street level.
There’s a dry cleaner, a deli, a Greek restaurant, another dry cleaner (now my offer to launder Eve’s coat seems very unnecessary), and finally—as promised—a pizzeria.
“We had the most killer pizza here together last fall,” he says. “I can’t wait for you guys to try it.”
His mood has improved since Bootgate. He may be nervous about surprising Audra, but he seems pretty stoked to share some Brooklyn knowledge with us for now.
There are multicolored strings of lights around the windows, the entrance, and the fire escape that zigzags up the front of the building. It sparkles absolutely everywhere.
Izaac steps up to the door, where there’s a box with last names handwritten in little windows next to buttons, but when I look, I don’t see Audra Evans on any of them.
“Where’s your sister’s name?” I ask.
“Eh, it’s probably under her roommate,” Izaac says, but he looks a little unsure to me.
He presses the button, and as we wait, I look at the sky, which is starting to seem a little threatening. I wonder if New York weather is as unpredictable as New England’s.
As the silence extends, Izaac taps his foot. Then he buzzes again.
“More vegetation?” I ask Diya, who is taking a serious interest in some sidewalk plants. “ Quite the horticultural gold mine, this Brooklyn. Don’t you concur?”
She squints up at me skeptically.
“Bosley, what are you rambling about?”
“Just saying! I find it fascinating… So much to explore here. It could keep one very occupied for four years or so.”
She ignores me this time, so I turn to Cash for backup but he is fiddling with his phone yet again.
I’m tempted to throw the thing in the sewer.
I love the guy but it’s just like our traditions—it’s been so hard to keep us together and present.
It’s surprising coming from a dude who used to make us all put our phones in a basket at Pag’s.
(“It ruins a good look,” he always said.)
I turn away and shiver, willing Audra to open up soon, because it is cold .
Very, very cold. It makes me miss our cozy living room and Marley back home.
But then I frown. Did Naomi even notice Marley before she went to work?
That question ruins the scene, so while Izaac buzzes again, I focus on filming what’s in front of me.
I train the camera on a very fat pigeon perched on the sidewalk. He’s pretty freaking adorable and will make for fun B-roll. Of course, the moment I zoom in is when he chooses to… relieve himself. Diya appears over my shoulder.
“That’s good luck, you know,” she says. “Definitely material.”
“All right, get outta here,” I say, and she pats me on the head.
“Wait! Here we go.” I call her back to the scene, because thankfully I spot a couple coming down the street wearing matching Christmas sweaters embroidered with a grinning Rudolph—one red, one green—having a very animated conversation.
My heart skips. Now here are people who really get the holiday spirit.
I redirect the camera their way and imagine their backstory as they approach.
Maybe they’re in the midst of their favorite Christmas Eve Eve tradition—wearing the sweaters a relative knitted just for them, and are headed to this pizzeria.
Maybe they’re debating how best to decorate their tree or which rendition of “Santa Baby” is best.
But as they come into earshot, I start to pick up the actual conversation.
“I told you, I hate this sweater,” the girl says. “Why can’t we just dress like normal people?”
“I don’t know. It’s Rachel’s thing,” her partner replies. “You know she’s obsessed with all this commercial Christmas nonsense.”
“Next year I’m not doing this.”
“You say that every year.”
“I mean it this time!”
They look up and catch me filming and I pivot as quickly as possible on my heel, back to the door. I can’t handle another dirty look on camera, when I’m actively trying to find human bright spots.
Diya pats me on the shoulder.
“Gives the film some drama,” she says. I nod.
“Thanks for that reframe.”
It’s not that I think Diya is right that this might be a depressing project, but it’s turning out to be a lot harder than I thought.
“So, maybe she’s not home?” Diya says finally as I head back to the group.
I didn’t want to shatter Izaac’s ornaments, so I’m glad she’s jumping in before we all get hypothermia.
He looks a little embarrassed, like he should know where his sister is.
He purses his lips, and I think he’s about to reluctantly give in when finally, there’s a crackle from the intercom.
“Breaker breaker one two,” comes a dude’s voice on the other side.
“Um, hello?” Izaac says, clearly confused by the response.
“Hi!” the voice says.
“Hi,” Izaac returns, then gets to the point. “I’m here for Audra. This is her brother, Izaac.”
“Sorry, dude, can’t hear. Speaker’s kinda busted.”
The voice is loud and clear, but maybe the busted part is on the other end.
“I’m here for Audra!” Izaac raises his voice.
“Can’t! Hear! You!”
Izaac huffs and rolls his head around on his neck in frustration.
“IT’S IZAAC FOR AUDRA,” he shouts, but before he repeats that he is Audra’s brother, the door opens, sending him stumbling back.
A scrawny white dude in sweatpants appears, a giant halo of blond curls sitting on top of his head like a labradoodle.
“Izaa-aac!” he says finally, and pulls Izaac in for a bro hug. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, uh, likewise,” Izaac says, smoothing out his overcoat. “So, is Audra home?”
“Audra!” the bro says, as if he needs to shout every name he hears or it isn’t real. “Great girl,” he says.
Diya, Cash, and I exchange looks. Izaac nods and waits.
“Oh, right! No, sorry, bro.” Then he laughs. “Oh, seriously—you are a bro! Like, a brother—Audra’s actual brother! That never happens. Well, almost never.”
Izaac is unimpressed.
“Do you know when she’s going to be home?” Izaac’s patience is wearing thin.
“Totally! Never. I mean, not here, anyway. I’m sure she’ll go to her home eventually. Maybe she’s even there now. But she doesn’t live here anymore.”
Now Izaac looks really thrown. He glances back at us almost like he’s hoping we didn’t hear that.
“Although, where do any of us really live… ya know?” the dude continues.
“That’s impossible,” Izaac says, ignoring this question and lowering his voice. “I just visited…” He trails off, obviously realizing it actually has been a while, and it’s totally possible she could have moved in the time since he was in town. “Well, can you at least tell me where she might be?”
The dude sighs. “Wish I could. That girl… such a mystery.” He stares into space for a moment, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.
“So you don’t know where she moved, or maybe where she works or anything?” Izaac asks. It’s unclear whether this guy is ever going to say more.
“Oh, that? Yeah, for sure. She’s bartending at Arturo’s. Works Monday and Wednesday. I know because she still hooks me up.” The dude winks. I imagine the only way this guy retains any information is when it has to do with getting something hooked up. “Oh, and Sunday, too! Their brunch slays .”
Izaac raises an eyebrow. “So, like, now?”
“Is today Monday, Wednesday, or Sunday?”
“It is,” Izaac says, clearly suppressing the urge to strangle him.
“Then yeah!”
“Great,” Izaac says. “Thank you.”
“Oh, if you go, tell her I cracked the code !” Then he cups a hand over his mouth and whisper-shouts, “She’ll know what it means.”
“Sure thing,” Izaac says, then turns to go.
“Oh, and make sure you get an order of the bangin’ shrimp. Those suckers are actually bangin’,” the guy calls after us. Inexplicably, he winks again.
We all wave at the dude, who heads back inside.
“She moved?” Cash asks.
“Apparently,” Izaac says flatly. “Anyway, we tried.”
“Wait, what? Why can’t we just go to wherever she is?” I ask.
“I’m not trying to take us all over creation to find her. It was only if it was convenient, and it’s not,” Izaac says, and turns his phone and shows us Google Maps. “Because apparently, she works in Williamsburg.”
“Riiiight,” I say, and Diya gives me a smile and a headshake because she knows I don’t have a clue what that means. I have a lot of studying to do if I’m going to be fluent in New York. “Which means…”
Cash pauses again to adjust his boot and Izaac gives him a pointed look, but Cash holds up a hand. There may be a limit on how long he can handle the pain, but he’s not ready to admit defeat just yet.
“It’s a thirty-minute subway,” Diya says, showing me her phone.
“Oh, we totally have time!” I say. It’s 12:50 so it seems possible.
He probably just doesn’t want to tell us how important this is to him. If my sister were healthy and just a thirty-minute train ride away, I’d be there in a heartbeat. Besides, Izaac has been cheerleading my mission all morning. It’s time to return the favor.
Diya nods. “She’s actually not wrong,” she says to Izaac.
“A little backhanded with the actually , but I’ll take it. And it’s not like we have to be at the bakery right at three,” I add before Izaac can object. “Besides, it won’t take long for Eve to shut me down.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, B,” Diya says. “She’s gonna be obsessed with you.”
“You guys are sure you’re up for it?” Izaac asks, eyeing Cash and his boots.
“Literal wild horses would have to kick me in the face to stop me,” Cash says.
“Aggressive, dude,” I say, “but let’s go!”