Chapter 15
‘Mum’s in the bath. Tell me everything.’
After the best shower of my life, which required another solo shower afterwards, Ethan had admitted that he really ought to crack on with the cartoons to accompany his speech, and hailed a cab for me like some kind of New York rom-com hero.
There’d been no emotional farewell; even though I hadn’t confirmed anything, we both knew there was a decent chance I’d end up going to Rick and Sinead’s wedding on Tuesday.
Ethan waved me off after insisting he pre-paid the cab fare, the taxi driver navigating the slushy streets with caution until we arrived in the winter wonderland that was a snow-covered Manhattan.
The Sunday traffic was eerily non-existent, but the streets themselves were bustling with wrapped-up tourists and New Yorkers alike, many of whom were gravitating towards the nearest green-but-now-white spaces.
One of which, of course, was Washington Square Park.
I asked the driver to drop me off at the arch, the magnificent Christmas tree looking extra-festive against its snowy backdrop.
I took a series of photos for Instagram as I strolled cautiously through the park – taking care not to re-soak my Converse, which Ethan had dried for me next to one of his heaters overnight.
I smiled at all the kids – and adults – building snow people and other sculptures, and sleepy parents dragging delighted toddlers along on sleds.
At one point, a snowball hit me on the arse, and I turned to see a teenage skater raise his hand in apology before receiving a snowball in his own face from an unexpected direction.
He ran towards his assailant clutching a fresh fistful of snow to wreak his revenge.
A wave of pure happiness rolled over me.
This is one of my favourite places in the world.
I waved hi to the receptionist as I floated through the lobby with a dopey grin on my face – this was no walk of shame, but a glide of pride. Beeping myself into the room, I found Anneka sat at the desk doing her make-up, with splishy-sploshy noises from the bathroom confirming Mum’s location.
I peeled off my shoes and dumped my backpack down on top of the mass of clothes that covered every inch of floor space. Throwing myself on the bed, I spread my limbs out like a snow angel and stared at the ceiling.
‘I… I think I just had the best night of my life.’
‘Out of ten?’
I lifted my head off the bed and squinted at Anneka. ‘What exactly are you asking me to rate?’
‘What do you think?!’
‘Anneka!’
‘C’mon! Apart from pizza and McGriddle runs, I’ve been trapped in this room for the best part of twenty-four hours. What’s the point in having a sister if she doesn’t kiss and tell?’
‘Fine, I’ll tell you this: yes, there was kissing.
And other stuff. But the main thing you need to know is that I feel like a different person to the one you dragged out of her flat two-and-a-half days ago.
So, I suppose that would be a rating of ten out of ten. And I also guess I should thank you.’
Anneka smiled briefly, dabbing cream bronzer on her face and blending it with the biggest make-up brush I’d ever seen. ‘It’s Mum you need to thank, not me. I took quite some convincing, you know.’
I scoffed – Anneka being ‘convinced’ by Mum to do anything was the equivalent of me accepting a barista’s offer of whipped cream on top of a hot chocolate.
‘Well, she was right. Against every single odd that’s ever existed, this trip was exactly what I needed.’
‘Sounds like it CAME along at just the right moment.’ Anneka tittered at her pun.
I responded by throwing a pillow at her. I swung my legs off the bed, and knocked gently on the bathroom door.
‘Can I come in, Mum? I really need a wee.’
The sound of a huge splash of water was the only response I got.
‘Just go in, Flo,’ Anneka said absentmindedly from the desk.
I sighed and pushed the door open tentatively. Water sloshed over the side of the bath as Mum sat bolt upright in surprise, clutching her chest in the first display of modesty I’d ever witnessed from her.
‘Jesus F. Christ, bloody knock next time would you, Flo?! You scared the living daylights out of me!’
‘I did knock! You must have had your head underwater. Also, since when have you ever knocked before bursting in on us in the bathroom?’
‘I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Anyway, from the very little I’ve managed to learn from your sister, it sounds like you had a good day… and night… yesterday?’
I should have known Anneka wouldn’t have been able to keep this to herself. Strangely, I didn’t mind.
‘I did. Very much so. Thank you for bringing me on this trip, Mum.’
Mum rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively, spraying water over me in the process. ‘What’re you thanking me for? I slept through the whole bloody day like an absolute twat – and I missed the snowstorm! What a waste!’
‘It’s still pretty special out there. Just… maybe ease up on the day drinking, hmm?’
Mum grunted in response, scooping up a handful of water and splashing it on her face.
‘Your body must’ve needed the rest, Mum.’
‘Whatever. But you’re having fun, Flo – right?’
‘I can’t believe I’m actually saying this but – yes, the most fun I’ve ever had.’
‘That’s great, Flo-jo. Really great. Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving me for a few minutes while I finish up in here…?’
‘Oh! Sure, of course.’
I pulled the flush and shut the bathroom door behind me after I’d washed my hands, resuming my bed-angel position. ‘Hey, is Mum okay?’
Anneka turned to me quickly. ‘Why? What did she say?’
‘Oh, nothing. She just seemed a bit jumpy.’
She turned back to the mirror and resumed adjusting her false eyelashes. ‘Yeah, I think the jetlag is affecting her way more than she’d like to admit. This is the furthest she’s ever travelled, y’know?’
That made sense. I’d been on a few international work trips over the years, and Anneka had travelled all over the place with various friends and exes, but Mum had never been further than Europe from what I knew.
‘I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. So then – what’s the plan for today? And please don’t tell me we’re going glassblowing in the Bronx or something.’
‘That’s tomorrow. Today, we were meant to be going on a boat trip to Staten Island.
But they’re running a reduced schedule because of the weather.
So, we thought we’d go full New York in December and…
’ She started tapping the table in a drumroll-like fashion.
‘…go ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center!’
‘Ooh, awesome!’ For once, I wasn’t horrified by one of Anneka’s suggestions.
I began rifling through what had now become our collective floordrobe for a change of clothes that would sufficiently protect me from skating-relating injuries. Eventually I found my thickest corduroy dungarees and a soft, vintage denim shirt that, appropriately, had leather patches on the elbows.
‘I’m presuming nothing’s booked?’ I asked, as I began to get changed, thankful that I’d already showered.
‘Bingo.’
‘Ha, okay, let me have a look before we set off.’ I googled the relevant info and selected today’s date. ‘We’re in luck! Shall we go for… eleven thirty, and then we can grab lunch somewhere?’
‘Sounds good, Flo-zo.’
I hovered my finger above the confirmation button but paused, choosing to address something first. ‘Hey, do you reckon you could stop calling me that?’
‘Flo-no?’
‘Yeah, and the rest. It’s bloody annoying and makes me feel like I’m about six years old. “Flo” on its own is okay. Or just “Flora”.’
Anneka tilted her head to one side and considered me for a moment, before nodding once. ‘Sure.’
‘And can you ask Mum to do the same?’
‘I’ll address it when the next opportunity arises.’
I booked the ice-skating tickets and scrolled Instagram for a while, posting my latest photos. Ethan liked them within seconds.
I sent him a DM:
Flora:
Oi, you’re meant to be drawing, Mr Carmy.
Ethan:
Busted. Chat later, Flora B.
I rested the phone screen-down on my chest and sighed, remembering the events of last night. Mum’s emergence from the bathroom interrupted my inappropriate thoughts. She looked pale and miserable, and her teeth were chattering.
‘Mum, are you okay?’ I asked, sitting upright, and putting my hand on her forehead – thankfully she didn’t feel feverish. Anneka turned to face us, her mouth turned downward with concern – although she didn’t seem entirely surprised.
‘Still feeling rough, Mum?’ she asked.
Mum nodded grimly.
‘Wait, I thought this was just a hangover and jetlag?’
‘We hoped it was, didn’t we, Mum?’ Anneka said, squeezing the excess moisture out of Mum’s dripping hair with a damp towel from the back of the chair.
‘Yeah. But now I’m thinking I’ve come down with something – I feel all wobbly and pathetic. I’m so sorry, girls.’
‘You’re not pathetic, Mum, you’re ill!’ I said, budging up in the bed. ‘Here, get in.’ I patted my vacated mattress spot, but she shook her head.
‘My hair’s all wet.’
Anneka guided Mum to the desk, kicking clothes out of the way to create a path through the chaos. ‘Sit down and we’ll get you nice and dry. Then you can get back into bed and we can figure out a plan.’
Anneka directed the hot air at Mum’s hair while I brushed it to speed up the drying process. I couldn’t recall ever brushing Mum’s hair before. It felt much more fragile than I’d imagined.
‘I can tell you the plan already,’ Mum shouted over the hairdryer. ‘You two will go out and enjoy yourselves, and I’ll stay here. End of.’
Anneka and I locked eyes while Mum stared at herself in the mirror, her mouth set in a straight line. I got the sense that the last twenty-four hours had been much tougher for Mum – and Anneka – than I’d been led to believe.
‘We can’t just leave you here by yourse—’ I began, but Mum wouldn’t let me finish.
‘I said, END. OF.’ Mum grabbed the hairdryer and hairbrush from our hands and completed the job herself.
‘At the very least we need to get you some medicine,’ I said.
‘I did that yesterday,’ Anneka said, opening a bedside drawer to reveal an impressive array of remedies inside.
‘Oh, nice one.’
‘See?’ Mum said, climbing into bed, popping a random pill and washing it down with a swig of Pepsi. ‘I’m all set.’
I sighed, and looked at Anneka. But she just shrugged. ‘She’s no worse than she was yesterday. I say we head out ice skating, then find somewhere with Wi-Fi so we can check in with her…’
‘Who’s “her”, the cat’s bloody mother?’ Mum said, already curled up under the covers. ‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here. I’ve still got my faculties about me, you know.’
Anneka growled in frustration. ‘Jesus. Fine, Mum, we’ll check in with you after we’re done ice skating. Leave your phone on, yeah? Here – I’ve plugged it in so it won’t run out of battery.’
‘And if you don’t pick up, we’ll head straight back – right, Anneka?’
Anneka smiled at me – gratefully? – and nodded. ‘Right. Got that, Mum?’
‘Yes, if I don’t answer the phone you’ll assume I’ve croaked it and call the authorities. Understood.’
After I had a shot of instant coffee and brushed my teeth, we left Mum – already snoring – to it.
‘Have you been out in the snow yet?’ I asked, as we waited for the lift.
‘Nope, not been out since early evening yesterday. Although I imagine most of it’s gone by now?’
‘Absolutely not. You really ought to wrap yourself up.’
To appease me, Anneka did up the top button of her inappropriate longline coat. ‘I’m all set.’
‘Yep, you’re totally ready to scale Everest. You should’ve told me Mum was poorly, by the way – I would’ve come back yesterday to help out.’
‘By doing what, exactly? Listening to Mum moan and mope about? Or would you have just lain down in the empty bathtub all day?’
‘I—’
‘I know you’ve been sleeping in there, you idiot. But, hey, at least you got to sleep in an actual bed last night, eh?’
‘I mean, not that much sleep was had…’
‘Oi, oi!’ Anneka winked, and linked arms with me as we exited the lift and headed towards the revolving doors. But our limbs weren’t entwined for long, because – as soon as Anneka saw the magnitude of the white-out – she was running off into the park, yelping like one of the sledding toddlers.
‘This is like a movie set!’ she shouted, as she climbed onto a bench and jumped feet-first into one of the untouched patches of snow. The bottom half of her legs disappeared into the frozen powder.
‘Good job I’m wearing my knee-highs!’ she said, wading out of the drift, the tail of her coat dragging across the snow’s surface like a bridal train.
A mini photoshoot ensued, with Anneka instructing me to capture her various poses and leaps so she could update her ‘portfolio’.
We weren’t the only people trying to immortalise the picture-perfect scene, with increasing numbers of selfie-stick-clutching TikTokers descending on the park from all directions, like some kind of zombie swarm.
‘Right, shall we head up to the Rockefeller Center?’ Anneka asked, brushing off the snowflakes from her inexplicably pristine clothes as if they were breadcrumbs. I hadn’t waded through any snowbanks, yet my clothes already felt like they were approaching the sodden stage.
‘Sure, I think I’ve figured out a route there on the subway. But can we make a quick pit-stop, first? I hardly ate anything yesterday and my stomach is crying out for one of those McGriddly things.’
‘Now you’re speaking my language. I can take you there, sure – but on one condition.’
‘What’s that, then?’ As if I didn’t already know.
‘Tell. Me. Everything. And properly, this time. Starting with this: how the hell did you meet this Ethan guy? He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would need a speechwriter.’
She linked arms with me again as we headed north.
As we exited the park next to the arch, I decided I had nothing to lose by telling her the full story.
Anneka and I had never had a regular sisterly relationship, given our age gap, and having one-on-one time with her had become a rarity in recent years.
This enforced closeness was feeling more like something to cherish, rather than a chore.
‘So, I started following this random cartoonist called Ethan Carmichael on Instagram a couple of years ago…’