AUDREY
M Y FIRST NIGHT IN N EW Y ORK , I WAS WANDERING AROUND NEAR the apartment, looking for somewhere to get food when I looked up to see a rooftop party. Or the periphery of it, at least – a few stragglers leaning against the edge of the terrace with drinks in hand, backlit by the fairy lights strung around them. I remember thinking what cool, beautiful lives they must all lead. Only now I’m on a similar rooftop at a similar party, and no cooler or more beautiful for being here. I’m just … here. And tomorrow I’ll be elsewhere.
‘Wow,’ Nicole says, appearing at my side in a fringed, sparkling cape and matching eyeshadow. ‘Audrey, you look stunning .’
‘Oh – you too.’ I beam, awkwardly adjusting the strap of my dress. It’s the one I wore the night I met Ezra – Marika gifted it to me while we were packing and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’m glad that she insisted. It feels like I have a tangible grasp on those memories now.
‘Aw, thanks.’ She smiles back. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Great. This party is amazing , Nicole. Really.’
Amazing feels like an understatement. Nicole pulled this together in less than twenty-four hours, according to Marika, and the décor is a wild mishmash of every conceivable theme. It looks like someone ran through a party store blindfolded – there’s a pumpkin-shaped punch bowl on a table draped with princess-patterned cloth, a blow-up cactus wrapped in tinsel stationed beside it. It’s deranged, and I absolutely love it.
‘Well, I had to give you two a fitting sendoff.’ She grins. ‘My apartment may be the size of a shoebox but this rooftop makes it all worth it.’
‘You get to throw parties up here whenever you want?’
‘After Irene okays it. She owns the building – she’s over there, actually.’
Nicole points and I turn to see a wiry, white-haired woman wearing a paisley kaftan, twirling slowly on the makeshift dancefloor while an ABBA song plays.
‘She’s my muse,’ Nicole says reverently. ‘Honestly – if you get a chance to talk to her tonight, take it. She has some unbelievable stories – she’s a true New Yorker.’
‘Do you have to be born here to be a New Yorker?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s kind of intangible. A vibe. An attitude.’
‘Sounds like Marika.’
‘Yeah, she’s got it.’ Nicole smiles. ‘But she might find another city that suits her better.’
I glance over at Marika; she’s in an iridescent lilac dress, standing next to a polystyrene snowman and talking to a girl I vaguely recognise. But her eyes keep drifting back towards us – towards Nicole, specifically.
‘I don’t think so,’ I say mildly. ‘I think this might be the one, for her.’
‘What about you?’ Nicole smiles. ‘Tempted to come back someday?’
‘Someday,’ I nod. ‘For now, I need to spend some time at home.’
‘Right,’ Nicole says, her eyes softening. ‘Marika told me that things didn’t work out with you and that Ezra guy.’
‘Oh. Yeah, uh – I’d forgotten you two had met.’
‘Uh-huh. I liked him, actually. But if he screwed you over then I hate his guts and I’ll help you egg his apartment.’
‘No.’ I laugh. ‘No, I – it was a mutual clusterfuck, unfortunately,’ I say, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. I noticed quite a lot of brown peeking in at the roots when I was getting ready tonight, which’ll probably be obvious before long. But I’m sort of used to the blonde now. I’ve stopped associating it with Julian. It’s just my hair.
‘Well, time heals most wounds,’ Nicole says easily. ‘Promise me you’ll get in touch if you find yourself back here? We can grab dinner or something.’
‘I will.’ I smile. ‘Thanks.’
Nicole grins back, squeezing my arm before moving away to rejoin the party. I’ll follow her in a moment. But for now, I stay where I am and gaze up at the sky. There’re no stars, obviously. They don’t stand a chance against this city, so I put my drink down and lean against the edge of the building to look down at the street below. We’re not particularly high up. I think I could recognise Ezra if he passed by, though of course he won’t. The universe doesn’t owe me any more favours.
For days I’ve been telling myself that it’s too late to reach out. But now that it almost definitely is, it’s all I can think about. I take out my phone, pulling up his number. He never reached out , I remind myself. But neither did I, and I’m the one who left. I was so angry, in that moment – I thought I hated him, and what if he saw that? What if …
Fuck it , I think impulsively, and hit call, raising the phone to my ear. My mouth is dry and I have no idea what I’m going to say, too focused on bracing myself for the sound of his voice as the phone rings, and rings, and—
‘ I’m sorry, the number you have called is currently unavailable. Please leave a message or try again. ’
Oh. Well – that’s anti-climactic. And slightly devastating, actually, because as much as I’d like to believe that he’s busy, it’s just as probable that he saw my name and deliberately ignored the call. I quickly hang up, resting my elbows on the ledge of the terrace and pressing my phone to my forehead.
Maybe it’s for the best – I probably would have made some stupid, dramatic declaration and humiliated myself. But I’m embarrassingly close to tears all the same, and I shut my eyes tight to keep them at bay. I refuse to cry tonight. All I need is a moment to pull myself together, and then I’m going to finish my drink, find Marika and drag her to the dancefloor. I’m going to enjoy my last night in this city. I’m—
And then my phone buzzes to life in my hands. I blink away my tears, heart leaping as I see Ezra’s name. I fumble to answer – I fumble , and there’s an awful moment of clarity when I realise what’s happening. But my brain is quicker than my body, and before I can react, my hands are empty. And then I hear a dull, distant thwack from the street below.
I gasp, craning my neck. No pedestrians in sight, which – thank fuck, but also – fuck. I race through the party and down the stairwell, praying for a miracle. But when I finally reach my phone, it’s painfully obvious that it’s a goner. The screen is still valiantly flickering with light but it’s obliterated, shards falling away as I gingerly pick it up from the pavement.
I have no way of calling Ezra back, now. But he called me .
He called me, and suddenly I’m walking, fast, because he’s out there and he called me, and that means that he wants to talk to me. To say what, I have no idea, but I also have no intention of not finding out.
Marika invited Mac to the party, tonight – he said he’d come by after work, which means that Ezra could be working too. And if he’s not, then Mac will know where he is. And if he doesn’t, then … then I’ll figure it out. Ezra’s out there somewhere, and he wants to talk to me. It’s all that matters.
I break into a run before I’ve even reached the end of the street.