Chapter 24
October 1, 2023
**Alert: Severe weather warning for Manhattan. Residents advised that Manhattan is expected to be impacted by heavy flooding across the city. Residents are advised to stay home if possible and avoid flood waters**
My phone rings just as I’m rounding the corner towards daycare, holding my umbrella and coffee. I have to juggle everything to answer it while trying not to slip over in the ever-growing puddles on the sidewalk.
‘Brynn, where are you?’ It’s Corey.
The staccato of raindrops on my umbrella makes it hard to hear. ‘I’m about to go in to work.’
‘You should come home now. They’re saying the rain might cause flooding and you don’t want to get stuck downtown if the subway shuts,’ she says.
‘Are you at home?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, I’m working from here today.’
I keep scampering along the path from awning to awning, covered by the umbrella. ‘I’m already all the way down here.’
I can almost hear Corey shaking her head. ‘I know, honey. But there’s no way a boss like Doug will be in today and he won’t help you if you get stuck. I bet there won’t be any dogs in. Just come home. Don’t even let them know you’re there. Tell them you couldn’t get downtown.’
I sigh heavily and hesitate a few stores away from Dogue’s. She’s probably right. A cab is crawling down the street, its windscreen wipers going flat out, and I can see that the water is starting to pool along the kerb. But then Robert comes rushing out of the store. The doggy van is pulled up out front and five dogs jump out the van as soon as Robert has it open. Even though Robert is one of the best handlers, I can see he’s struggling.
‘Okay, I gotta go.’ I throw my phone into my bag and dash over to him, trying not to spill my coffee. I’m just in time to see Perdita leap from the van. Not too far away, I see someone else realise who the dalmatian is and lift their phone to snap a photo, something that I know Perdi’s humans don’t like.
I manage to intercept Perdita, grabbing her collar and shielding her body from the pawparazzi. She upends my coffee all down my coat in the process.
‘Thanks for that,’ I mutter, dragging Perdita inside as she licks the liquid off my coat.
‘I wonder if Doug will fire me for feeding Perdita coffee?’ I ask Robert, who is grinning at me gratefully.
‘Oh shit, let’s get her inside. The last thing we need is Perdita being any more feral than she already is.’
Together, we manage to get all the dogs safely into daycare without incident. I stand at one of the basins in the little dog room and try to wipe the worst of the mess off my coat.
‘Does the city actually flood?’ I ask Robert while I’m spongeing. ‘And what happens if we get stuck here?’
‘Fuck, I don’t even think about it,’ he says. ‘There’s no food and Doug turns the heat off at eight o’clock. We’re screwed if we do.’
‘We won’t, though, will we? I mean, this is New York.’
Robert snorts, removing his Panama hat and brushing the drops off it. ‘You were just outside, right? Did you see how much water there was around? Also, you know Manhattan is an island, don’t you? Plus the subway is a piece of shit and stops running all the time. It’s underground—where do you reckon the water goes?’
‘I guess I’ll get a cab home later,’ I say, shrugging.
I send Corey a text to let her know I’ve had to stay, put my bag away, and go back to the playroom. Hilde doesn’t show up for her shift, but it doesn’t matter, we end up with the five dogs from the taxi, two who were boarding overnight, and only three walk-ins. We keep all the dogs in the small dog room so that we can watch the shop and, through the window, we can sort of see how bad the weather is.
I send Lucas a text to see if he’s bringing Mulligan in today. He says he’s staying put for now.
‘Okay,’ I reply. ‘Well, if the weather gets any worse I might have to bunk in with you guys.’
He replies with the stressed face emoji. Still, my mind sets off running with romantic fantasies of the rain pouring down outside while he and I, safe and warm in Lucas’ apartment, snuggle on the couch and watch movies. At some point during the day, his apartment magically gets a fireplace and a bearskin rug.
About halfway through the shift Robert leaves me with the dogs while he goes to check on the news. I’m standing by the window, trying to read Robert’s lips as he takes a phone call at the back of the store over near the doggy strollers, when I see Doug come striding into the shop wearing a giant black pufferjacket. I watch him and Robert talk for a moment, noting that both of their body language is tense, Robert gesturing towards the front of the store where I’m sure the rain is still pelting down, and Doug shaking his head. I suddenly wonder if he’s going to make us sleep here in the storm.
There’s a fold-up seat in the back of the room and I retrieve it and sit down near the window. I’m instantly surrounded by all the dogs. A few of them put their paws up on my legs and wag their tails expectantly. We don’t often get a chance to sit while we’re on shift, but when we do the dogs start to expect cuddles and pats. I let a brown poodle jump onto my lap and I scratch between his ears.
‘No offence, little one, but man, I hope I don’t get stuck here with you tonight.’ The poodle only stares into my eyes, tongue lolling to the side as he enjoys my scratches.
‘Okay,’ Robert says, slipping back into the playroom. ‘So we’re leaving. Doug’s going to shut the store.’
I gently push the dog off my lap. ‘Thank god for that,’ I say. ‘Are you going to be okay getting home?’
Robert shrugs and then winces when he looks out the window. ‘Probably not, but I got a buddy I can stay with on this side of the river until the trains are running. How about you? Do you want me to wait with you until we find a cab?’
I might have taken him up on that, but I can see that he looks tired. He has bags under his eyes and his shoulders have rounded. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘But I think I’ll be okay. I ... ah, I might go to Lucas’ place; it’s a bit closer than mine.’ I bet my cheeks get pink as I say his name.
Robert nods, but I can’t read his expression. ‘Well, be careful, okay? I worry about our tropical Aussie floating away out there on the mean NYC streets.’
I squeeze his shoulder and he gives me a soft, sleepy grin.
I text Lucas as I leave and it takes me half an hour to pick my way through the water to his place. Ordinarily, it’s less than a ten-minute walk. My feet are absolutely saturated and very quickly they’re pretty much numb. I keep warm by thinking about how cosy I’ll be in Lucas’ central-heated apartment.
I get into the building without buzzing as someone else is coming in too. The doorman, hunched inside his coat, barely even glances at me. I ride the elevator up to Lucas’ floor and knock at the door, stamping my feet on his doormat while I wait.
The door opens to a pretty woman with perfectly tousled blonde bed hair. She’s wearing one of Lucas’ shirts and not much else, and regards me curiously.
I freeze.
She tilts her head, frowning.
My first instinct is to run, but like the Bridget Jones cliché of a situation that I’ve found myself in, my feet feel glued to the floor. They’ve also started to ache with cold as the feeling creeps back into them.
‘Yes?’ she says, glancing at the enormous coffee stain that the rain hasn’t washed off my olive-green coat. Her nose wrinkles.
‘I ... ah ...’
‘Can I help you?’ she prompts. But before I can stammer any more, I hear Lucas’ voice.
‘Stacey, honey? Who is it?’
Stacey. I wonder if her last name is McGill, because she does kind of look as I’d imagined the sophisticated member of The Baby-Sitters Club would look all grown up. The perfect New York girl.
She raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know,’ she calls out. ‘Some girl.’
The sound of Lucas’ footsteps on the polished wood floorboards sends a shock of energy to my legs. I dash down the hallway and wrench open the fire escape doors—there’s no time to stand in the corridor and wait for the lift to arrive.
By the time I hit the bottom of the building and burst out onto the street, the sidewalk is flooded and I’m sobbing. The tears mingle with the rain on my face as I start the long, humiliating walk from Chelsea up to the Upper East Side.
The three subway stations I pass on my way home are all roped off with police guarding the turnstiles. ‘How am I supposed to get home?’ I sniffle to one of the officers who turns me away.
‘Not my problem,’ he says.
I’m cold and sad, so I just keep shuffling home in defeat. Over and over my phone vibrates, and I resist the urge to throw it into the nearest rubbish bin. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced. But I feel a million more times shitty when I remember how perfect the girl’s hair was and how wet, limp and greasy mine is. She looked gorgeous and slim in his shirt when I look exactly like a fat Aboriginal girl who has been enjoying too much over-portioned American food, wearing a filthy, coffee-stained coat. Not to mention the constant eau-de-Dogue that clings to me. I shouldn’t compare myself to her, though, and I know it’s just the hurt that’s making my mind search for things about me to pick on. It’s not you, it’s him, I remind myself.
A few brave drivers are crawling up Third Avenue and I keep looking back, hoping that a cab will save me, but no one stops. My chest begins to tighten, and I fumble in my bag for my Ventolin, but it gives a few, shallow spurts and then dies and I chide myself for not checking I had a full one.
When I get home, it feels like it takes me an hour to climb up the four narrow flights of stairs. By the time I find the right keys, Corey opens the door.
‘Oh my god! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you.’ She pulls me inside and gives me a hug, but I clutch at my chest and choke out ‘asthma’.
Corey startles a little and leads me into the bathroom. She makes me sit on the toilet lid while she runs to my room. She brings back a brand-new Ventolin and the giant plastic spacer. Through my wheezing, I’m impressed she knows exactly what I need.
While I puff on the spacer and get my breathing under control Corey gets the shower going. Then she helps me out of my coat, Converse, jeans and t-shirt and leaves me sitting there in my underwear.
‘Get in the shower, now,’ she says in a gruff voice. ‘Don’t make me strip you down completely.’
I nod and stand up, pulling the curtain back. She stands there until she’s satisfied that I’ll make it in and then leaves, closing the door behind her. ‘Yell out if you need anything,’ she says.
I stay in the shower until the water runs cold. I keep thinking about how cliché this whole situation is—me, the daggy Australian girl showing up at the cool New York guy’s apartment and running away when I find his more attractive girlfriend there living out my fantasies. I lean my head against the wall and cry until I realise that I’m one second away from necking vodka and singing Celine Dion’s ‘All By Myself’.
I want so much for New York to work out. I want to be able to call back home and brag about my wonderful job, hot boyfriend, and his cute dog. I want to have the funny stories about the couple of months I spent working in doggy daycare. But I do not want this to be my life right now; I’m ready for this part to be over.
‘I think I want to go home,’ I sniffle to Corey as I come out of the bathroom. I’m wrapped in her fluffy blue bathrobe and my hair is coiled into a towel turban.
‘What?’ she’s standing in our tiny kitchen pouring pancake batter onto a hot skillet.
‘I think I need to go back to Australia. I can’t do this anymore.’
‘Oh honey, no,’ she says. ‘Just let me finish this one and we’ll talk.’
I curl up on Jenny and a few minutes later, Corey appears with plates and cutlery and sets our little coffee table with maple syrup and butter. She pours me a huge mug of coffee.
‘Eat something first and then we’ll talk. You’re starving, cold and tired and I don’t think you can think straight until you’ve got some food in your belly.’
I eat a few mouthfuls and then I have a flash of memory of the perfectly toned white legs of that girl at Lucas’ apartment and have to resist the urge to spit my food back onto the plate. I shouldn’t be eating pancakes and maple syrup, I should be doing sit-ups and push-ups and finding some sort of butt- and thigh-toning exercises. I start to cry again.
‘Okay, tell me what happened. It’s more than just the rain storm, right?’ Corey shifts closer on the couch, abandoning her own pancakes to look me in the eyes.
I set my plate down and tell her the whole, sad story and she gives me another hug.
‘You know what,’ she says when we’ve pulled apart. ‘The whole Lucas thing is shit and you have every right to be sad. But don’t be so down on yourself. You are a fun, extremely sexy Bigambul woman who most New Yorkers would give their right arm to have a chance at being with. He doesn’t deserve you, and there’s much better out there for you.’
There’s something so special about her saying the name of my mob—getting that part of my identity right. For months while I’ve been here, I’ve been saying Aussie, Australian, or even Aboriginal, and none of them fit. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
‘There are thousands of people in this city—me included—dating and trying to find the right person,’ she continues. ‘You’ll find someone else nice.’
‘It’s not even just about Lucas,’ I admit. ‘It’s everything. It’s Doug and the way he treats everyone at work. It’s pinning all my hopes on the internship when I’m probably not going to get it. It’s the way I thought Lucas was actually going to help me get a job. I bet he never told the n+1 editor about me.’
I burn with shame at the thought of how I slept with Lucas—I’m such a fool.
I stand up to take my plate into the kitchen. ‘I appreciate your support, Corey. But I just don’t know how much longer I can wait.’
I try to give her a reassuring smile. ‘I’m going to have a nap.’
She remains on Jenny, looking at me with a sad expression on her face. I spend the rest of the day in bed with the covers over my head.