Chapter 33
As I approached the building on West Seventeenth Street, I felt my steps growing slower, as if someone had replaced the comfy Air-Ware soles of my boots with concrete. There was so much I wanted to say to Amelie, but I didn’t know how I was going to say it – or whether she’d be willing to listen.
On the corner before my sister’s apartment block was a little arcade of shops and I paused outside them, dithering. There was a florist selling enormous bunches of lilies and peonies, as well as hand-tied bouquets with ferns and all sorts of other things in them as well as the flowers. But I remembered Amelie telling me in the early days of their relationship that Zack had sent flowers to the office where she worked every day for a whole month until the girl who sat next to her’s hayfever got so bad she had to ask him to stop.
I didn’t want to do anything that would remind her of the time when Zack made her so happy she used to sing all the time, out of tune and getting the words wrong, until all the people in her office had literally begged her to stop that too.
Next to the florist was a patisserie, its window filled with a wedding-themed display of pastel-frosted cupcakes and one towering three-tier extravaganza with ombre icing and sugar rosebuds cascading down its side. I definitely didn’t want to remind my sister of her wedding day, either, but when I peered through the glass I saw a counter laden with things that looked more promising.
Ross was taking his father’s old colleagues doughnuts for a treat, so I decided I might as well do the same. They were saving lives and needed calories, but my sister was growing one and would need them just as much.
After careful consideration, I selected four doughnuts: one matcha tea, one vanilla, one chocolate truffle and one raspberry jam, which I figured covered all bases. Clutching them in a paper bag, I pushed open the door to the street, and almost collided with Amelie.
Her eyes were concealed behind huge black sunglasses and the interior of the store was a lot dimmer than the bright day outside, so she didn’t recognise me at first.
‘Excuse m— Oh. It’s you.’
‘It’s me.’ Now that I was face to face with her, my determination to come and see her seemed even more foolish than it had in Brooklyn an hour before. ‘I wanted to… I bought doughnuts.’
The tight line of Amelie’s mouth softened. ‘Is one of them matcha?’
I nodded.
‘Were you planning to eat them all yourself?’
I shook my head.
‘Come on, then. Shall we walk?’
‘Let’s walk.’
I followed her down the street and up onto the disused railway line that had been turned into a park – or rather a kind of ribbon of open space, overlooked by buildings but lush with greenery – which my tourist research had told me was called the High Line.
‘Are you feeling better?’ I ventured. ‘Since you’re out of bed and everything?’
‘A bit,’ she said. ‘I haven’t puked since yesterday and I woke up this morning absolutely starving. So I came out for carbs. Imagine living here and not being able to eat – it’s an absolute piss-take. When are you flying home?’
‘This evening. Unless—’ I stopped. If Amelie had needed me, I’d have stayed longer, but she’d given no indication that she did, and I didn’t want to break whatever tentative truce she had declared by pushing things.
‘God, I can smell those doughnuts from here,’ she said. ‘Shall we sit down?’
We had to walk quite a bit further before we found an unoccupied bench on the shady side of the path, and then we sat. I opened the paper bag and held it out to Amelie.
She took out the top doughnut and turned it carefully in her fingers. ‘This one’s chocolate, I think.’
I removed the next one and inspected it. I could see bit of pale green ganache oozing out of one side.
‘I reckon this is matcha.’ I held it out to her.
She hesitated a moment, as if in the grip of some existential conflict. ‘Are you sure you don’t want it? They’re the best by miles.’
‘I got it for you. I’ll like the chocolate better anyway.’
‘I’ll let you have a bite.’
‘What if I think it’s gross? It’d be a waste.’
‘True.’
So we swapped doughnuts. I wasn’t hungry, but I took a bite of mine anyway and its rich sweetness made me instantly forget how unhungry I was and take another bite and another. Amelie tore into hers as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks, which I supposed she hadn’t.
When she’d finished, I said, ‘Vanilla or raspberry next?’
‘Which do you want?’
‘I don’t think I want another. I had a massive breakfast earlier.’
Although her opaque dark glasses were still covering half her face, I could see that Amelie was rolling her eyes.
‘Fine, I’ll take the vanilla. Bet you eat the jam one anyway.’
‘Bet you I don’t.’
‘Bet you d— actually, maybe not. Not with your rational mind and all.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You. You wouldn’t stuff a doughnut down your neck if you didn’t actually want it. You’d know that if you did you’d feel sick and hate yourself, so you wouldn’t do it.’
‘Why would I hate myself? It’s just a doughnut.’
‘Because – okay, maybe you wouldn’t hate yourself. But you wouldn’t eat it, because you’d know it wasn’t worth it. Like with Kieren.’
‘What on earth has Kieren got to do with doughnuts?’ I asked, bewildered. Actually, I had no idea what he had to do with anything any more, but there was no stopping Amelie when she went off on one of her tangents.
‘You had that thing with him, and you got hurt, so that was it. No more men. Because you didn’t want to risk it happening again.’
Now didn’t seem like the moment to reveal that risking it happening again was exactly what I’d just done – a leap of faith so breathtakingly thrilling and daunting I still couldn’t quite believe I’d taken it.
‘Whereas I…’ Amelie went on, brushing the last doughnut crumbs off her mouth with her sleeve, ‘I make the same mistakes, over and over.’
‘Do you mean with men or with doughnuts?’ I felt it was important to bring some clarity to this conversation.
‘Both. Luce, I know this sounds pathetic, but being the pretty one hasn’t been easy. Not that you’re not pretty – you’re stunning. But the label. It meant I always thought that was it – that was what I was worth. What I looked like to men.’
‘And whether you could eat doughnuts?’ I asked, floundering.
She burst out laughing. ‘See? Logical. But yes. It’s all part of the same thing. So I tried and tried to find someone who’d think I was good enough for them, and who everyone else would think was good enough for me. And then I found Zack.’
I nodded. This still wasn’t really making sense to me, but at least now we were talking about the thing I’d come here to talk about.
‘And Luce, the relief was just— I can’t describe it. No more dates. No more swiping. I had my person. I had a ring on my finger. I could get on with what my life was supposed to be.’
‘And eat doughnuts?’
‘God, no. I mean, maybe now I can blame it on the baby. But you see, if I were to leave Zack, I’d be back where I started. I’d be alone again. I’d be back on the market. And I can’t…’ she sniffed. ‘I just can’t face it.’
‘But you—’ I began, but she carried on.
‘I’m sorry about what I said to you the other night. I was horrible. I believe what you told me about him.’
Relief washed over me, followed immediately by a sense of weary resignation.
‘But you’re still…?’ I asked.
‘I’m still going to stay with him.’ Her voice was calm. ‘We’re married. Once he knows about the baby it’ll stop. It”ll be okay.’
‘Amelie, this is – you don”t have to do that.’
‘I do. This is what I signed up for. I’ve got to make it work. Luce, promise me something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t hate me? Please?’
‘Am,’ I swivelled round on the bench so I could look at her directly, ‘I know I”m meant to be the clever one of us, and we both know that’s not actually true. But right now, I’ve got to tell you, you’re being as thick as mince. Of course I hate what Zack’s done. Right now, if he was standing here, I’d kick him in the balls so hard he’d have to swallow them back down. But you know what? If you forgive him, when you guys move back to London with your baby, I’ll buy that man a Christmas present every single year until I die. Whenever I see him I’ll smile so nicely everyone will think we’re best buddies. I’ll be your baby’s godmother if you ask me and I’ll never say a bad word about its father. Why? Because you’re my sister and I want you to be happy. Got it?’
‘Got it. Maybe say about his balls again – I liked that bit.’
I said it again and Amelie nodded in satisfaction.
‘Thank you, Luce. You’re the best.’
‘I love you, Am.’
‘Love you more.’ She managed a watery smile. ‘I won’t pull the radio silence on you again. I’m feeling better. Facetime as soon as you’re back in London and we’ll chat, okay? I’ll tell you what he says about – you know. Everything.’
‘Okay. As soon as I’m home, I’ll call you.’
‘Speaking of home,’ she said, ‘I should get back. I’m bursting for a wee.’
‘Okay.’ I said again.
We stood up and walked slowly back the way we’d come. The shadows from the buildings that fell across the path were longer now, the benches on the other side of the path in shade also.
As we got near to Amelie’s apartment, her pace increased, but when we reached the entrance she stopped.
‘Luce?’
‘Am?’
‘Are you going to eat that jam doughnut, or can I have it?’
‘Of course you can have it. You’re my sister.’
I passed over the paper bag, bunched and wrinkled at the top where I’d been clutching it in my hand. Amelie took it, then reached out her arms to me and we hugged as if we’d never stop.