EZRA
I T STARTS RAINING AROUND MIDDAY , WHICH IS SO HILARIOUSLY on-the-nose that it actually lifts my mood slightly. I watch it come down from the restaurant on the corner of my street, eating dumplings and feeling sorry for myself.
Audrey left without saying goodbye this morning. By the time I woke up it was like room service had come and gone. The bed had been made, the bathroom smelt like bleach – even the spare towels were gone. The only personal touch was the note she left, which I’ve got in my pocket. I reach for it to reassure myself, smoothing it out on the table.
Thank you for everything.
Audrey x
Her handwriting is endearingly untidy, a sloping scrawl. She wrote it on the back of a receipt from the morning we got breakfast together – a small reminder of a good memory. I just wish it didn’t sound so much like a goodbye.
I reach for my phone. I’ve been contemplating messaging her all morning, but I find myself rereading Edie’s message instead – the message I should have replied to yesterday, only what’s there to say? What could she possibly want from me now?
It’s so typical of Edie to reach out just as I’m taking my first steps away from her. I deleted every trace of her from my phone post break-up, anticipating drunken lapses in judgement on my part. Still, my notes app is full of all the sad, sentimental things I had wanted to tell her but couldn’t.
Fuck it – whatever the reasoning, I don’t want this hanging over my head. I quickly draft a response.
thanks edie. heard you’re in new york? ezra
If she thinks I’m ignorant to her being in the city, then this is bound to freak her out. It also reads as kind of terse, but that’s probably for the best. The dynamic between Edie and me has always been skewed in her favour – social hierarchy was a big thing at school, and she was a honeyed blonde with a crisp accent and a flair for tennis. I was the loner American kid with the weird camera – you do the math. Still, I was happy existing in her orbit, and none of that shit mattered when it was just us. It didn’t even bother me that I so obviously loved her more. It was an absolute. Trying to deny it would have been like trying to deny that the sky is blue.
Point being, better that I sound a little cold, now. I decisively hit send, pop the last dumpling in my mouth and lean back in my chair, pondering my next move. The cinema, maybe. Sitting in a dark, air-conditioned room with one of those bucket-sized slushies sounds pretty good right now.
My phone buzzes and I physically start. But the message isn’t from Edie.
Can I see you today? No worries if you’re busy.
Audrey. I exhale, quickly tap out a response.
i’m out right now, but i can meet you somewhere?
Her answer comes back in less than a minute.
Or I’ll come to you?
I reply just as quickly.
i’m at the restaurant on the corner of my street. are you anywhere nearby?
No immediate response. A few minutes pass, then a few more, and I’m wondering if I should have offered more details when I see a flash of pale hair through the window, a streak of brightness in the otherwise grey day. I raise my hand to wave but Audrey doesn’t see me, her head ducked low to avoid the rain. The bell above the door jingles when she steps inside, hair damp, nose pink. She’s wearing her green jacket again, and I wonder then if she’ll be here long enough to need something warmer.
‘Hi.’ She smiles, taking a seat opposite me and placing a brown paper parcel on the table. It’s oblong, speckled with rain.
‘Hey.’ I grin back, not caring if it’s obvious how entirely fucking jazzed I am to see her again. ‘How are you?’
‘Good.’ She nods. ‘Better, I mean. Um – this is for you.’
She nudges the parcel across the table.
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised. ‘Really?’
‘It’s partly a birthday gift,’ she tells me, tugging at her sleeve. ‘Partly an apology. I know I was a total mess last night—’
‘No, you weren’t—’
‘I was. It was stupid and I don’t have an excuse, but you took care of me anyway and I’m really grateful.’
She pushes the parcel a little further towards me, and I abruptly understand. She feels indebted to me and she doesn’t want to be, hence the gift – she’s trying to even the scales. It kills me a little, sure, but I get it. I just wish she knew that it isn’t necessary. That she doesn’t owe me anything – that I wouldn’t want her to.
‘Thank you,’ I say instead. ‘This is really nice.’
I push my empty plate to one side and pick it up. It’s surprisingly heavy, and Audrey watches me closely as I pull the paper back.
‘She was one of the photographers that you mentioned liking,’ she says uncertainly. ‘Right?’
‘Right,’ I echo, stunned. In my hands is a huge, cloth-covered volume of Nan Goldin photography – the exact same book that I discovered on a dusty shelf in the art room at school. I must have leafed through its dog-eared pages a hundred times, totally rapt. It showed New York as a place I’d never known, so far removed from the city of my childhood that it might as well have been a different planet. I trace the embossed lettering with my fingertips, gold and perfect where I remember it dull and worn.
‘You don’t already have it, do you?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Uh – there was actually a copy of this at my school. I coveted it the whole time I was there – I almost took it when I left, but there’s no way they wouldn’t have known it was me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, feeling dazed. ‘Wow. Thank you so much.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘I love it. What a crazy coincidence.’
I glance up at her, smiling. She looks slightly stricken, though, eyes glassy – I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when she quickly turns her head, reaching into her bag.
‘I got you something else,’ she announces. ‘Something you need. Here.’
And then she hands me a wallet. A small, plasticky black wallet with I HEART NY printed on it.
‘Wow,’ I say solemnly. ‘It’s stunning.’
‘Better than a cigarette carton, at least.’
‘Don’t downplay it. I’m going to cherish this fine piece of craftmanship for ever.’
‘A future heirloom, maybe?’
‘Oh yeah. My progeny are going to fight viciously over this one – there’ll probably be a brawl at the will-reading.’
Audrey laughs, just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I tense slightly, knowing it must be Edie this time. But I can’t bring myself to reach for it while I’m here with Audrey. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. But of who, I don’t know.
I don’t think I want to, actually.