I Heart New York by Lindsey Kelk
‘Come on, we’re so gonna struggle to get a cab at this time,’ Jenny muttered as the doors slid open, taking my lovely new reflection with them. ‘Were you checking yourself out?’
‘Yes?’
‘Good girl,’ Jenny said catching hold of my arm and dragging me out of my New Favourite Place in the Whole World.
So what if I was now officially broke. Why else did I have an emergency credit card? And I was stylishly broke at least. Plus I was too busy staring up and down Lexington Avenue really to think about it. Everywhere was too busy, too hot and too noisy but it was amazing to me. Looking right, I swam in the endless downtown view afforded by the New York grid system, channels framed by skyscrapers rising high into the sky. To the left, dozens of honking, screeching cabs and searing sunshine contributed to the glowing heat haze rising up and distorting the air. I thought it was beautiful.
‘How far do you think you can walk before you pass out?’ Jenny asked, nudging me out of my daydream.
‘Maybe fifteen minutes?’ I wasn’t sure if it was really a question or a challenge. I really, really didn’t feel like walking.
‘Then we should do as much of this on foot as we can.’ She nodded to the crossing and threw herself into the traffic. ‘Come on, Angie!’
We marched across the road and then down the block, across another road, straight over Park Avenue and ever onwards, crossing Madison. Dragging my precious bags behind me, my fifteen minutes of walking time were quickly wasting away.
‘I just wanted to make it to Fifth,’ Jenny yelled, holding out her arm, as we crossed for the last time. ‘Let’s get a cab.’
If it was humanly possible, the cab ride through Manhattan was even more exciting than the ride into the city. We cruised down Fifth Avenue, whizzing for five blocks then crashing to a stop at a red light, with my bags, my head and my stomach crashing into the partition between us and the driver more than once. Every time we stopped it was outside another landmark. St Patrick’s Cathedral rose up amongst all the shops, so totally out of place, like putting a Brownie hut next to Harvey Nicks, but here in New York, it just seemed to make perfect sense. I couldn’t help but think, as we passed the lions roaring out in front of the huge public library, that if all libraries had giant lions outside, people might read more. Or at least rock up to have their picture taken on their backs.
‘Hey, do you see the Empire State Building?’ Jenny pointed out of my window to an inconspicuous looking building by the side of us. I couldn’t see anything but a huge queue of people, even when I pressed my head right up against the window of the cab and recoiling only when I saw the nasty, greasy marks left by a previous passenger.
‘Oh bugger, I really wanted to see that,’ I said, leaning in slightly and trying not to think about any other stains that might be around.
‘Pretty sure it’ll still be there tomorrow,’ Jenny said as I leaned into the back window, watching the tower go on and on into the sky as we moved further away. Until we came to a sudden halt again and I smashed my chin against the back seat. ‘We’re coming up to the Flatiron in a moment, that’s way cooler.’
She wasn’t wrong, the Flatiron building was incredible, all triangular and pointy but everything we passed was cool. Gorgeous, organized, New Yorky and cool. So incredibly different to London and, if this cab driver didn’t start taking corners with a less cavalier attitude, the last place I would ever see. Fifteen minutes later, we reached the tip of the island and pulled up outside the South Ferry Terminal.
‘We’re going on a ferry?’ I asked. Jenny had been enigmatically and uncharacteristically silent on the journey downtown and I’d been too busy taking in the city and counting the Starbucks to worry about it.
‘You’re so not ready for Staten Island,’ she laughed, passing the driver a twenty and hopping out, taking several of my bags with her. I crawled out with my other bags and trailed behind her. ‘But you’re totally ready to see this.’
We marched along the pavement and down into a busy park, I was so consumed with checking out the various sculptures and lines of people chatting, laughing, eating ice cream, I was almost at the fence before I saw it. When I did, I stopped dead. There it was. The clearest, truest symbol of New York, of America, standing proud and keeping guard across the bay. The Statue of Liberty.
Jenny turned around to look for me, holding her hand over her eyes. ‘Pretty great, huh?’
I nodded, without anything to say and walked slowly towards her. We dropped our bags and leaned over the railings. It was beautiful, my very own movie moment.
‘I was thinking where we should go when you were trying on clothes,’ Jenny said softly. ‘And I figured where better than the first place thousands of people first experienced New York. Cheesy maybe, but who better to officially welcome you to the city than Lady Liberty.’
‘It’s so weird,’ I said, still staring out across the river. ‘I’ve seen it a thousand times on TV and stuff but to actually see it, there, real. Wow.’
‘Yeah,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I remember the first time I saw her, it was the first thing I did when I moved to the city. We never, ever came down here as kids, my mom hates it. But she’s here to look after everyone. New York is made up of millions of different people, Angie, and they all come here looking for something, just like you.’
‘Please, you’re giving me too much credit. I wasn’t looking for something,’ I said, looking across at what I guessed to be Ellis Island. ‘I was running away.’
‘No, you’re not giving yourself enough,’ Jenny said, turning to me. ‘Yeah, so maybe not everyone puts an ocean between themselves and their ex but you’ve got a lot to work through. And that’s not psychobabble, that’s genuine life experience talking. When my ex left me, I fell apart and I mean it. Fell. Apart. And I had no excuse to be so incredibly pathetic, it was all totally my fault and I had the most amazing friends to look after me. If you didn’t feel like your support system was strong enough, then getting yourself out of the situation was the best thing to do. And New York is a great place to do that. It’s a city of new beginnings. People go to LA to “find themselves”, they come to New York to become someone new.’
‘I suppose,’ I said, thinking about everything that had happened. Was it weird that Mark hadn’t even crossed my mind since the Chanel counter? ‘It all just seems so strange and unreal. I feel like I ought to be, I don’t know, feeling more.’
‘So you’re still in shock,’ Jenny said, turning back towards the bay. ‘There are worse places to be in shock than in Bloomingdale’s. Seriously though, you’ve suffered a huge personal trauma, a break-up is the closest thing to a bereavement, you know.’
‘I do feel kind of like that,’ I admitted. I really didn’t want to dwell on it in such a public place. I was English after all, we’re not public criers. ‘One minute I’m like, it’s over, I’m not even going to think about any of it and then the next, I just can’t believe what’s happened. I think I’m doing the right thing by being here at the moment though.’
Before Jenny could back me up or shoot me down, a loud ringing interrupted us. My phone. I pulled it out of my bag, ready to remind my mum how expensive international calls were on a mobile when I saw who it was.
Mark.
I looked at the flashing screen for a split second and wondered what he could possibly be ringing for after our last conversation. Had he changed his mind? Was he feeling awful? Was Tim’s hand so badly damaged he was having it amputated?
Ring ring. Answer me. Answer me.
Without another thought, I threw my phone, as hard as I could over the railings and into the water. And it felt really, really good.
‘Sorry,’ I said, inhaling deeply. Had I really just done that?
‘This city is a good place to deal with trauma, honey, we’ve been through a lot ourselves and we’ve come out of it just fine.’ Jenny pulled a pack of tissues out of her handbag and passed them over as a precautionary measure, completely ignoring the phone missile I’d
‘God, I know,’ I said quickly, taking the tissues. ‘I suppose when you think what everyone has been through here, what they survived, it puts a break-up into perspective.’
‘True, but that’s not what I meant, sweetie,’ Jenny said. ‘I meant that you’ve come to the right place to pull yourself through something that’s difficult and hard and tears your insides out. Whatever that something is, is different for everyone. For me, Century 21 reopening five months after 9/11 was my epiphany. I knew I’d be brave enough to get through anything if they could open their doors and sell me designer shoes at a seventy per cent discount.’ She took my hand. ‘Now I’ve got to get to my evening shift. And you must be completely wiped. Want to head back to the hotel?’
I took one last look out at the statue. Wowsers. I was in New York.
And I was so incredibly tired.
‘Yes please.’
We gathered up all of our bags and flagged down yet another cab. Hmm, a new friend, a new wardrobe and a new city. Compared to Saturday, this hadn’t been a bad day.
CHAPTER SIX
After a nap, a shower and several false starts at international dialling from the hotel room phone I finally did what I had to do.
‘Annette Clark speaking.’
‘Mum, it’s me.’
‘Oh, Angela, thank goodness. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day,’ she breathed out in an overly dramatic gesture. This was going to be quick and easy, then.
‘Well, my phone doesn’t work over here.’ We generally found it easier to rely on white lies, a much healthier mother/daughter relationship, than telling the truth, and I wasn’t ready to have my mental state questioned. Again. ‘I just wanted to let you know I’m safe and I’ve got somewhere to stay and I’ll give you another call when I know what I’m doing.’
‘Somewhere to stay?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, with a friend,’ I said, keen to get off the phone before the conversation turned to a subject I just didn’t want to deal with. ‘Now, can you do me a favour and pick up my stuff from the house? He knows—’
‘Angela, slow down,’ Mum said. I could see her, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, rubbing her cheeks with her palms, just like she always did when she was confused. ‘What do you mean “a friend”? You don’t know anyone in America. Please just come home. Dad has sorted out your room and everyone feels just awful, you know, but no one blames you for what happened at the wedding.’
‘No one blames me!’ I said, my voice getting a tiny bit higher than it needed to be. ‘No one blames me…Right, well, yes, I’ve made a friend. No, I didn’t know I could make a friend in a day but then until Saturday, I didn’t realize the friends I’ve had all my life could lie to me so well, so maybe it’s time to take a chance on new people.’
‘Angela, don’t start, that’s not what I meant,’ she sighed. ‘I just want to know you’re all right. Sod the rest of them.’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I said, catching a glimpse of my new hairdo and beautiful, albeit slightly melted, make-up in the mirror. Damn, I looked pretty bloody good. ‘I really am. Look, I’m staying at a–with my friend Jenny and she’s really nice. I’m going to be here for a while I think, but I’ll call you if I need anything and you can call me on this number for the next couple of days, just 1471 it. Love you.’
‘Love you too, sweetheart,’ she said, sounding slightly mollified. ‘Dad and I will go and get your things from your house. Don’t worry, just come home soon.’
Five minutes after my mother had hung up, I realized I was still gripping the receiver so tightly my knuckles had turned white. Just hearing her mention Mark, the wedding, everything back home had put me in a foul mood. Not a good move when I had to spend the night in by myself. I walked over to the window, looking for somewhere to hide out, people watch and basically listen in on other people’s conversations. A huge, familiar beacon of normality stared back at me.
Starbucks.
Perfect. And there was even an HSBC next door.
Multinational corporations be praised.
I emptied two of the Big Brown Bags onto the bed and found a pair of tiny shorts and some colourful T-shirts. Peeling off my sweaty jeans and old graying T-shirt, I swapped outfits and slipped into my new Havaianas. My handbag looked too formal, too structured and altogether too much like it came from Next to wear with the outfit, so I slipped my room key and cash card into my back pocket and hoped for the best. Sporting a big black pleather handbag with flip-flops and hot pants did seem a bit silly.
Jenny wasn’t on the desk when I passed through reception so I escaped without questioning and, even though it was past seven, the air outside was still balmy and dense. I visited the bank first, struggling for a second with having to put my card in and take it back out again before the buttons would work. Just before I could withdraw some cash, the related accounts link danced in the corner of my eye. The joint account. I pressed the button, just to check. It was looking really, really healthy. Mark and I had always had an agreement that I put in a certain amount each month to cover the mortgage and bills and then he paid them all. From the looks of this, he’d been covering a lot more than half the bills for some time and never mentioned it. For a brief moment, I felt a pang, maybe he wasn’t all bad, he did look after me after all.
And then a devil appeared on my shoulder with a quick reminder of his sweaty, pathetic face. Before I even knew what I’d done, I moved half the cash from the joint account over to my personal account. He was hardly going to miss it, he earned a fortune, and by rights, half of it was allegedly mine. And more importantly, it covered my shopping spree. Result.
Breathing fast and heavy, I withdrew a couple of hundred dollars, not knowing what I’d be doing for the next few days, and dashed into Starbucks with my ill-gotten gains.
‘What can I get you?’ asked the cute assistant. Under normal circumstances, I’d have been flustered and blushing, he was absolutely my crush type. Tall, skinny, floppy brown hair and had the look of a man that new his way around a Stratocaster. The complete opposite of Mark, to be specific. But I was too confused by the coffee menu to take in his messy prettiness.
‘Er, I just want, a, erm,’ this wasn’t me projecting my most confident and beautiful self, as recommended by Jenny, ‘a large coffee?’
‘A regular coffee?’ he asked. ‘Like, a Venti Americano?’
‘Very possibly? And a muffin, blueberry muffin.’
‘Five thirty-five,’ he said, flipping the fringe across his eyes. Now the coffee issue was out of the way, I had a chance to check out just how good-looking he was. And he really was. ‘I’ll bring them over.’
I scooted over to a table for one by the window and tried to relax. Looking at the bank account had actually been even worse than talking to my mum. I felt as if I’d actually taken money out of his wallet. I rested my head on my forearms and breathed deeply. Sod it, he could consider that his Dickhead Tax.
‘Venti Americano and a blueberry muffin.’ Starbucks boy deposited my drink and snack on the table in front of me with a flourish.
‘Thanks,’ I said, suddenly as hungry as Jenny, looking at the giant, berry-studded muffin.
‘So, are you on vacation?’ he asked.
I wasn’t really used to getting into conversations with strangers, let alone fit male ones. Working from home limited my access to the outside world and the people in my local Costa were not chatty. I don’t think they liked me using their place of work as a makeshift office.
‘Sort of, I suppose.’ I didn’t really want to get into the reasons behind my visit to the city with a hot barista. ‘I’m staying here for a while. With a friend.’
‘Cool,’ he nodded. ‘So you’re from England right? I really want to go to London. The music scene there is so cool right now.’
‘I am,’ I nodded back, sipping my bucket of coffee, wishing I’d asked for a decaf and trying to think of something cool to say. ‘It’s really–cool.’
‘Yeah, totally,’ he agreed. ‘If you’re around next month, you should check out my band. We’re playing at the Cake Shop in a couple of weeks.’ He pulled a napkin from under my plate and took a pen out of his pocket. ‘Give me a call and I’ll put you on the guest list. I’m Johnny.’
I took the napkin, turning bright red and not from the sunburn I’d picked up in Battery Park. ‘Thank you,’ I said, tucking it into my pocket and looking hard at my coffee.
‘And, if you’re not doing anything at the weekend, you could give me a call or something. We could, like, go to a show or something,’ he said, flicking his fringe back the other way. ‘Or you know, if you just want some coffee, I’m usually here.’
I gulped my coffee and broke off the edge of the muffin as Johnny sauntered back behind his counter. Had I just been asked out by a cute boy? Since I’d been engaged, I’d assumed (or hoped) I was giving off an ‘I’m taken’ vibe that put off all reasonable men. There had been the odd sleaze who would have a crack at the end of the night, or the dodgy friend whose best mate had already got off with someone, but I really couldn’t remember the last time an actual honest to God, good-looking man had even attempted to have a go.
‘But you’re not engaged any more, you’re single,’ whispered the increasingly irritating devil on my shoulder, who apparently had not done enough damage in the bank. I drained my coffee quickly and nibbled the other edge of my muffin, my appetite gone. Johnny was serving another customer as I left. He gave me a quick wave, I nodded and smiled back shyly.