Chapter 15
The following day, I go straight back to Bathurst Street as though on a serious mission, and attempt to peer through more windows without looking like some kind of creep.
Just walking Ted Levy’s neighbourhood, and knowing that this is exactly what he sees in the world every day when he leaves his own place, makes me somehow feel even closer to him.
Jodie messages me on Facebook, telling me that there’s an apartment party on next weekend, out in the far reaches of the city.
‘It’ll be cool, promise. Just if you find yourself at a loose end – we could hang out, get some cocktails.
There will be party favours too, so don’t worry about arranging any of that.
’ The message makes the bitter taste about Carrie and Brigitte fade away.
I consider going, figuring that it might be good to meet other people here and round out my brand-new social circle.
Perhaps flirt with a couple of guys. It might not do any harm to have a few friends to introduce to Ted.
Portland? What the hell is he doing there? Jesus wept, he feels further away than ever. Even further, somehow, than he was when I was in London.
The Tedettes are naturally desperate for any kind of information. I am keen to throw them a guppy; less keen to give them the full picture.
‘The hotel is nice,’ I post in a group message. ‘Nice view of downtown, although the trouser press is broken LOL so that’s me fucked if I have any board meetings.’
‘Screw the trouser press,’ Layla writes. ‘What about Levy sightings? Have you been to Bathurst Street?’
‘Not yet.’ Lying is disturbingly easy on here. ‘I’ve met a friend, Jodie. I think she’s in advertising or something.’
‘Is she a TL fan?’
‘It hasn’t come up, to be honest.’ I commend myself on sounding like a person with some level of restraint. ‘I’m just enjoying the city for now. It’s a cool place. Promise I will send a few pics from the Horseshoe and Bathurst as soon as I get there.’
Violet messages me privately. ‘What about Naomi? Have you seen her yet.’
I notice the full stop, and how it reads almost like an order, as opposed to a mere enquiry. ‘No, not yet. I sent her a message and hopefully we’ll meet up soon.’
‘Kay.’ I get the impression that while she is doubtless invested, Violet doesn’t want any of it to happen. She and I both know it – I am somehow rupturing the delicate ecosystem of our little online gang.
‘How’s things with you? How’s Adelaide? How’s your mum?’
‘Well, I’m writing this from the hospice so you tell me.’ She pops me a picture of a tube and dropper resting in a grey kidney dish.
‘Oh, Violet, my God, I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.’
‘’S all right. It’s actually a pretty cool place. She can get her hair done and people help her in and out of the shower, and the food’s better than anything I make at home. Winner winner chicken dinner literally lololol.’
‘Still, Violet,’ I type. ‘That’s a shit buzz. I’m sorry.’ Letting her know about Naomi might lift her spirits, but something tells me to hold back.
‘Just keep me informed!’ she replies. ‘I am living vicariously through you now.’