Chapter 9 #2
So that had been that. I’d had no choice but to accept that my dad was out there, somewhere, living his life completely unaware that he had a daughter.
Tracking him down was nigh on impossible, and I wasn’t willing to put my DNA into an unknown system on the off-chance he’d been silly enough to do the same.
Will and I had bonded over our wonky parental situations the very first day we’d met.
He’d told me matter-of-factly that his parents had been killed in a car accident when he was six, and I’d shared in return that I was half-parentless.
Will had sketchy memories of his mum and dad at best, and of course I had no memories of Paul at all, so we had cathartic conversations about our complicated feelings of grief for people we’d never known – but without whom we wouldn’t exist. Being able to talk so openly about a subject that had, for the rest of my life up until that point, been out of bounds had felt like a release.
And, over time, the intimacy of our chats evolved into something more.
The foundations of our relationship had been built on intensity and instability, and we’d clung to each other in those early years like two saplings growing on a cliff face – it felt like we had a better chance of laying down sturdy roots if we teamed up.
‘You can write in shorthand?’ Ethan’s question brought me back to the here and now, tapping my notepad with his index finger and only just missing contact with my wrist.
‘Yeah, the plan was to be an investigative journalist – or a detective – before I realised both options would involve actual deception. Plus way too many phone calls for my liking.’
‘Ha, phone calls are the worst. Going undercover doesn’t appeal, then?’
‘I’ve been told I have a face that gives everything away.’
‘That’s useful to know.’
I blushed, but I didn’t know why.
‘You and your brother get on okay? Nothing we need to tread carefully around?’ I asked.
‘No, he’s my best friend.’
‘That must be nice.’
As I turned to a fresh page on my pad, the previous page detached from the inadequate glue binding, floating to the floor. Ethan reached down and picked it up.
‘Sorry, but what is this piece of shit notepad?’
‘Yeah, it’s crap. It’s from the place I’m staying at.’
Ethan rubbed the paper between his thumb and middle finger, shuddering before he handed it back to me.
‘The low GSM in this paper is making me feel physical pain. But, hey, there’s an epic stationery store a few doors down; wanna check it out and find a better pad?
My treat as a thank-you for helping me out.
I was planning on going in there today anyway for some new pencils. ’
‘Er, now?’
‘Sure! The sooner we go, the sooner you can stop writing on single-ply tissue paper. We can grab this stuff to go?’
‘Go on, then.’
I made quick work of the remaining croissant, then we decanted our drinks into a couple of takeaway cups that featured Ethan’s distinctive coffee characters, gathered up our stuff and ventured outside.
Yesterday morning’s blue skies were still nowhere to be seen, with an increasingly thick duvet of undulating grey having taken its place.
‘It’s so much colder today, isn’t it?’ I mused, taking a sip of coffee to warm myself from within as we turned left up the street.
‘Yeah, are you all set for tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Oh, you don’t know? There’s a big snowstorm forecast – looks likely to be some of the heaviest snow the city has seen for at least a couple of years.’
I took a mental note to look it up later and tell Mum and Anneka – they adored snow and would no doubt find us some mass snowball fight to join in with. Who was I kidding – they’d probably be the ones to instigate it.
‘Oh, blimey. Thanks for the heads-up – no, I didn’t know that.’
‘Blimey,’ he repeated, attempting to mimic my accent. I assumed he was going for British but he ended up somewhere closer to Brisbane.
I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but closed it again.
‘You were about to make a comment about my British accent, weren’t you?’
Can this guy see inside my brain or something?
‘Well, it is extremely bad.’
‘Fair. Right, here we are.’
He opened an unassuming doorway next to a window that featured a simple display of pens and envelopes. The words Paper it could send new customers their way!
Ethan could deliver me coffee and croissants each morning on his way to the office, and empty my chamber pot.
Actually, maybe I’d employ someone else for that job.
One thing was for sure: I’d get more sleep in it than I was getting in my current bathtub arrangement.
Focus, Flora. Choose a damn notebook.
I picked one up at random and sniffed its pages with my eyes closed, before picking up another one for good measure.
I made my way over to the pen section, admiring the stunningly curated selection of greeting cards, paperweights, desk lamps and houseplants along the way.
My notebook igloo would surely be the finest, most tastefully furnished notebook igloo in the world.
I spotted Ethan, who was standing among rows upon rows of writing and drawing implements, which appeared to be organised according to a numbered grid system much like the streets of Manhattan.
‘I could live here,’ I mused, as I scanned through the store’s range of shiny fountain pens.
‘In New York?’
‘Ha, no, in this shop.’ I left out the igloo part. ‘But, from what I’ve seen so far, New York isn’t half bad, either.’
I selected a tester fountain pen from a shelf and contemplated the weight of it. A little heavy.
‘It’s your first visit, then?’
I picked up another pen. Still nicely chunky but more lightweight.
The slightly rubbery hexagonal shaft felt good in my hand.
The lid made a satisfying sound as I removed it, the rich, royal-blue ink gliding and swooping delightfully on one of the many lengths of paper that had been rolled out across the entire surface of the shelving unit for exactly this purpose.
I wrote a single word in my best amateur calligraphy, ripped off the segment of paper in question and held it aloft:
YES
Ethan grinned. ‘Not bad.’
I placed the tester pen back down on its perch and glanced at the price label next to a stack of packaged ones.
‘Aha, I see what you mean about that giveaway face of yours,’ he said, chuckling.
‘Hmm?’
‘That was a grimace, if ever I saw one.’
‘Yeah, it’s a bit out of my price range. Have you got what you need?’
He wiggled a substantial bouquet of identical pencils, grinning.
‘Are you sure that’s enough?!’
‘Honestly? Probably not! I go through so many, and I’m always losing them.’
‘Can’t you just buy them online?’
Ethan shrugged. ‘I mean, I guess, but that would be nowhere near as fun. Coming here once a week is my little Monday morning ritual. I’ve just done it on Saturday this week instead.’
‘You enjoy your routines, don’t you?’
‘Sure do.’
Despite my protests, Ethan insisted on buying me both of my notebooks.
‘This will get me some extra ink blots!’
I frowned, but my confusion lifted when he showed me his loyalty card for the store: a credit-card-sized piece of blotting paper marked with various shades of absorbed dots of ink from the shop assistant’s artisanal nib.
‘What do you get once it’s full?’
‘Ink!’
Ethan zipped his pencils away in his backpack and the smiling assistant handed me a branded paper bag containing my notebooks.
We walked back to the coffee shop and peered through the window.
The table we’d been sitting at moments earlier was no longer free, and it looked like every other table was also occupied.
‘Hmm, where to go…’ Ethan took out his phone and slipped his glasses down from his head to look at his map. ‘There’s a decent brunch spot that isn’t too far away if you’re happy to walk and talk?’
I looked at the time – it was approaching ten a.m., which meant Mum and Anneka would be brushing up against consciousness any moment now.
‘Shit, sorry, is this taking too long?’ he asked, suddenly looking worried.
‘No! Not at all, I just need to check something, hang on.’
Neither Mum nor Flora had told me anything about today’s schedule beyond their intended lie-in, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any plans.
In fact, the lack of information probably made it more likely that they had something ludicrous up their sleeves.
Perhaps we’d be diving for pearls in the Hudson River?
My device had automatically reconnected to the coffee shop’s Wi-Fi now we were outside it, so I tapped out a quick message to the Bell Belles WhatsApp group.
Flora:
I’m out on a walk. Do I need to be back by a certain time?