Chapter 10
August 7, 2023
From: Brynn Wallace [email protected]
To: [email protected]; [email protected]
Subject: n+1 fall internship application: Brynn Wallace
Dear Mark and Dayna,
My name is Brynn Wallace and I am a Bigambul Aboriginal woman from Australia currently living in New York under a working holiday program. I am writing to submit my application for the n+1 Fall Internship Program.
I recently completed my Master’s degree in Writing, Editing, and Publishing at the University of Queensland, where my research focused on the impact of literary journals on the broader publishing industry, with a specific emphasis on the representation of Indigenous voices.
I am particularly drawn to n+1 magazine due to its reputation as one of the most significant literary journals globally, and I am eager to contribute to its mission of fostering critical dialogue and diverse voices.
Thank you for considering my application.
Yours sincerely,
Brynn Wallace
I’m five steps from the vet’s office with Perdita, the TikTok famous dalmatian, when she stops leading the way and hangs back, forcing me to drag her along. Her twenty-something kilos mean that this isn’t an easy task. By the time I’ve wrenched her inside, I’m sweaty and hot which brings out the stink of dog from my clothes. Fashionista indeed.
The nurse at the counter smiles. ‘Perdita’s never happy to visit us,’ she says in a lovely drawling Southern accent, coming out from behind the desk. She offers Perdi a liver treat, and Perdi sits with a half-hearted wag of her tail.
‘Hey, I’m Sienna,’ the nurse says. ‘I got the heads up that you were on your way. Doesn’t sound—or look—too bad. But I heard it was a little chaotic over there.’
Chaotic is a good way to put it. At Dogue’s today, Spike cemented his reputation in my eyes as a bully. The big, vicious brindle-coloured Boxer, who hates everyone, got into a scuffle with Perdita and left her with a gash on her ear. And Perdita left me with a nip in my hand when I tried to separate them. I was tasked with whisking Perdi to the vet while poor Cruz and Hilde had to deal with Spike and telling Doug what had happened.
The nurse grins up at me and her smile is so genuine that I struggle to think of what to say for a second. ‘Brynn,’ I finally choke out. ‘Nice to meet you.’ I smile back at her. I’ve been by the vet a few times since I started at Dogue’s and I don’t remember seeing Sienna here, but there’s something familiar about her face. She’s around my height, fat and fair-skinned, with bright sparkling blue eyes and a pretty, doll-like face that’s framed by bouncy blonde curls. She’s what I would picture a perfect Southern Belle to look like. Talk about stereotyping , I think.
‘You’ll be okay, hey, Perdita?’ she coos at the dalmatian.
‘Hope you’re right. Either way, I’m not looking forward to getting back there,’ I groan.
Sienna gives me a sympathetic look. ‘I’ve heard it’s an interesting place to work.’
Everyone’s heard about Doug , I think.
‘Well, you just relax here for a minute,’ Sienna says. ‘I’ll take the patient out back.’ She holds her hand out for Perdita’s leash and hauls the reluctant dog off towards a door to the surgery.
There’s a big board with client photos over the reception desk, and I wander over to look. I recognise about five dogs from Dogue’s. When I catch sight of Mulligan the Westie, there’s a pang of homesickness in my chest.
I’ve thought about chucking in the Dogue’s job so many times in the last fortnight. It has not been easy. The dog fights and negotiating Doug’s strange and strict behaviour have been exhausting. Not to mention the fact that even if I work six or seven days straight, the pay doesn’t cover my rent. For the most part, the dogs are great. They just want affection and someone to play with. I’m not bothered about having to pick up poo, or mop the floor when they pee, and I don’t care about being licked or jumped on. But work isn’t helping with my homesickness at all. At the end of each shift I walk down the street and get on the subway alone. I miss the Cardigan Bar, where I could walk in any night of the week and find Dotty mixing cocktails and sorting out the open mic night. I miss walking into my house and finding it full of family: Chris, Matty, and Henry; Aunty Barb, Bridie and her little brothers. I miss Nan and Uncle Rusty, Chris’s sisters and Aunties and Uncles. I even miss being summoned to make endless cups of tea, no matter what I was doing. Most of all, I miss being able to snuggle up to my mum and tell her all about my day.
Sienna emerges from the back room and slips behind the reception desk. ‘So, Perdita’s going to be fine, and the cut won’t ruin her social media career,’ she says. ‘Can I get you to sign the release forms?’
I step up to the counter. ‘Just show me where.’
She points at a spot on the page, and I fill in my details.
‘So, you’re Australian?’
I gape at her for a moment, surprised that she didn’t guess English. ‘Yeah, I am.’
She grins. ‘I love your accent. I’d love to go to Australia someday. Is it always warm and lovely there?’
Her Southern accent is thick and even though I’ve never been to the South and worry I wouldn’t have the greatest time there, I find it somehow comforting.
I grin at her. ‘I love your accent. And no, it’s not always warm there. Though in Queensland, where I’m from, we don’t have a proper winter. Well, not by New York standards, with snow and stuff.’
I pass the forms back and wait while she checks them over.
‘Queens-land,’ she repeats, drawing out the two parts of the word. ‘So, what are you doing here? I mean, if you come from a place with no real winter, then why would you want to be here in New York?’
‘Oh, but New York in the winter-time is the best. At least, I think it will be,’ I answer, my love for New York pushing aside any of the worries I have about work, jobs, money and all of that. ‘Ice-skating, warm pretzels, the Rockettes, the Rockefeller Centre Christmas tree, hot chocolate and cake at Serendipity3, and Central Park all covered in snow.’
‘And black ice and subway closures because of frozen tracks and apartments where the heat doesn’t work,’ Sienna says, shaking her head. Her curls bounce and part of me really wants to reach out and touch them.
‘For someone with a Southern accent, you’re sure doing a good job of sounding like a jaded New Yorker,’ I joke.
‘I’ve been here for a while,’ she says. ‘And I love it, I do. It’s much more liberal than my hometown, which is nice. But some of the sheen sort of wears off, you know? Especially after spending the better part of two years trapped inside my apartment during COVID. But it’s nice to hear you so excited. How long’ve you been here?’
‘Since July,’ I answer. ‘Not quite long enough to be jaded. But maybe heading that way.’
‘If you ever want to hang out with a jaded non-native New Yorker, give me a call.’ She scribbles her number on a Post-it and hands it to me with a wink.
‘That’d be great,’ I answer, sticking the paper in my pocket without looking at it. ‘I should be getting back. Doug will be wondering where I’ve got to.’
‘Can’t have that now,’ she says, frowning. ‘But seriously, give me a call sometime. We’ll have coffee or something. You can tell me about Queens-land and I’ll try and make you sound a bit more jaded.’ She smiles and I find myself staring at her lips. What the heck, Brynn?
I shake the weird feeling away, thank her again and head off down the street with my famous charge trotting along beside me. Today I applied for an internship at n+1, the second most famous literary journal in New York, which I’m sure I have a good chance of getting. I may still have my feet clad in dirty sneakers instead of Louboutins, and still work at doggy daycare, but I’m feeling buzzed and happy at the fact I’ve managed to make a lovely new friend without Corey’s help. Things are looking up.