Chapter 13
Ethan and I stumbled out of the bar two drinks later.
Jem had headed out with us – totally sober as far as I could tell – and had hugged both of us fondly in farewell before heading to a nearby bar for a poetry slam.
As they embraced me, they whispered in my ear, ‘Hold on for that happy ending,’ before squeezing my shoulder and fading into the Brooklyn night.
Ethan and I began heading in the vague direction of the subway.
‘Jem’s… different?’
‘Yeah, out of all of us, they were the one who was born to be a fine artist, not a cartoonist. But their perspective on world events is so unusual that the angle they can find for quick-turnaround cartoons about current affairs is unparalleled… sorry, am I being really boring?’
‘Of course not! Why would you ask me that?’
‘Your eyes look all glazed.’
‘I’m fucking hammered, Ethan! I’m probably looking in two directions at once. I really should have had some water in there.’
‘Water? I can do water. Follow me.’
He turned up a side street and pulled me into a 7-Eleven-type corner shop, where a group of men sat huddled in a corner playing a card game.
One of them sighed and rose to stand behind the counter so Ethan could pay for a bottle of water and a packet of cookies.
I downed the liquid in one go, then devoured a cookie – I hadn’t eaten dinner, yet my body seemed quite content to sustain itself with alcohol and dopamine for now.
‘Better?’
‘Yeah, thanks. So then. To the subway?’
Careful with that intonation, Flora.
‘To the subway.’
‘It’ll still be running, right?’
‘It’s never not running, dude! It’s only nine o’clock – Brooklyn hasn’t even got started. Frank, Suki and Sonny will be out for hours yet.’
‘Would you have stayed longer if I hadn’t been there?’
‘Maybe for a little while, but after Jem I’m always the next one to leave, before the DJ gets going.’
The subway station was now in view, and I instinctively reached around my back to extract my headphones from my rucksack – which wasn’t there.
‘Fuck! My backpack!’
‘Jeez, I totally forgot. Okay, quick detour.’
This is risky.
We rounded a corner onto the street perpendicular to Ethan’s and my eyes locked onto the letters displayed on a giant lightbox sign above the entranceway of what looked to be an industrial-style music venue.
‘No fucking way.’
‘What is it?’
‘Look who’s playing here tonight!’
The letters had been arranged to spell DAYS COLLIDING – the very band Ethan had been listening to in the coffee shop yesterday. The poster next to the entrance indicated that the band was playing a fifteenth-anniversary show for their debut album, which felt incomprehensible.
‘Woah, that’s spooky,’ Ethan said, wandering over to the poster and peering at it so intensely it looked like he was trying to reveal a Magic Eye image.
‘You seriously didn’t know they were playing round the corner from your place?’
‘Nope, it’s hard to keep up with events in Brooklyn. Plus, I had plans tonight anyway.’ His face suddenly whipped around to look at me. ‘Hey… crazy idea: shall we see if they have any tickets left?’
I looked at my watch, assuming we must have missed the bulk of the show already, but, as the headline act, the band I’d always bopped along to in my teenage bedroom would probably be taking to the stage any minute now.
‘It’ll be sold out, surely?’
‘Only one way to find out!’
‘But… will I be able to get back to Manhattan after?’
‘For sure. In fact, I’ll ride the subway with you once we’ve grabbed your backpack since it’ll be later than we planned. But I can have you back before midnight, Florabella Cinderella.’
I knew this was reckless. But I felt high on life, and I had absolutely nowhere else in the world I needed to be. The sudden strum of an electric guitar from within the bowels of the music venue was the final tipping point.
‘Fuck it, let’s do it!’
The doorman waved us through without us even having to ask about ticket availability, and Ethan paid at a small window in the entranceway.
The band was in full swing by now, and I recognised the song as the opening track from their seminal album – suggesting they’d be playing the tracks in order.
We dropped our coats in the cloakroom and ran into the main room, taking in the scene before us.
The space was busy, but not horrifically so, with the crowd less dense than I was used to in the UK – not that I’d been to a gig recently.
‘This is amazing!’ I shouted, through an open-mouthed grin.
‘I can’t hear you!’ Ethan yelled back, his hand cupped to his ear while his mouth was equally agape with joy.
‘It doesn’t matter!’ And I meant it: nothing else mattered right now beyond the music and making the most of this moment.
With this person.
I grabbed Ethan by the elbow and pulled him into the undulating mass of people, weaving us through it to get closer to the action.
Mum and Anneka had always been mystified by my teenage love of loud music, confused as to why I couldn’t tolerate their incessant chatting yet was more than happy to blare out my favourite indie albums in my bedroom – the louder the better.
To be fair, I couldn’t really explain it either – until I’d met Will at uni.
‘You enjoy predictable sounds,’ he’d said, matter-of-factly, during one of our lengthy conversations that had seeped long into the night during freshers’ week.
He’d always had a logical answer or explanation for everything.
Me, Will, Laurie and Ben had gone to a fair number of gigs and indie club nights together at uni, but after we all moved to London and the reality of work kicked in, we slowly fell out of the habit.
Once Laurie and Ben had moved to Bath, my concert-going dwindled to near-zero, with the exception of occasional stadium shows where Will preferred to sit than stand.
As I allowed my body to move to the beat of the song in whatever way felt right, I realised that this was the first gig I’d been to – let alone danced at – in over a decade. Why had I been denying myself this all-encompassing thrill for so long?
Because Will never loved gigs in the same way I do.
Life with Will had been pleasant and straightforward, and I did miss existing that way. But had life with Will ever been joyful?
I was reluctant to compare Ethan to Will, especially since I was less than a couple of hours away from saying goodbye to Ethan forever, but as I watched his body move in the same uninhibited fashion as mine – his eyes squeezed shut as he belted out the lyrics – I felt more connected to this goofy guy than to any other human being I’d ever met.
Because I knew he was experiencing the same state of self-generated ecstasy.
And, for me, the only feeling that was more powerful than music-induced joy was shared music-induced joy.
Once the band’s first three high-energy songs gave way to a track with a slightly slower tempo, I admitted to myself that I was desperate for a wee.
‘I NEED A BIO brEAK!’ I shouted in Ethan’s ear.
‘I’LL COME WITH YOU!’ he shouted back, gesturing towards the far corner of the warehouse-like space with his thumb to indicate the location of the restrooms just beyond the bar.
He held out his hand and I took it without hesitation, enjoying the way our palms slotted together while trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that zipped up my arm.
Ethan leaned against the wall next to the toilets while I joined the small queue inside the doorway.
I glanced at myself in the mirror as I waited and almost gasped; I looked unrecognisable.
My cheeks were flushed pink with exertion and Mum’s Collection 2000 mascara had smudged all around my upper and lower eyelids, giving me a not-unpleasant smoky-eyed goth vibe.
My entire face glistened with a sweaty sheen that didn’t look massively unlike Tabbi’s ‘glass skin’ whenever she peeled off one of her pricey Korean sheet masks.
But, shiny face aside, I simply looked – and felt – more like me than I had done in… forever?
As I washed my hands and used the excess moisture to tame some flyaway strands of hair, the song finished and the familiar opening strums of This Hush Is New filled the air.
I dashed outside and, without acknowledging him, dragged Ethan straight back into the crowd so we could fully immerse ourselves in the mass appreciation for the song that had been playing when we’d first met.
By the time the chorus dropped, we found ourselves just a few rows from the front, deep among the hardcore fans who were throwing themselves around like the last decade-and-a-half had been a figment of our collective imagination.
Ethan and I clung tightly to each other’s arms so we wouldn’t get separated, his thick hair rising and falling just behind the beat, never able to fully settle thanks to our rhythmic bouncing in time with the crowd of strangers that surrounded us.
But, here and now, none of these people felt like strangers. Instead, we were a single entity of euphoria, united by music, sweat and sheer, unbridled elation.
The second chorus ended and the drums took a breather, the lead guitar trilling and teasing as the song prepared to jump into a whole other gear.
Ethan and I locked eyes; we knew what was coming, and we shifted our arm grips to a finger-interlocking hand-hold, fully aware that the next section of the song would send the already-animated crowd into an absolute frenzy.