Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Text from Olive to Colin: NYC is raining, sadly. Hope it’s still sunny there in OZ. I like head massages, sounds like a good idea for our indoor date ;) Now it’s my turn to ask you a question. What makes you laugh? X

Text from Colin: Still sunny here! About to have a BBQ. Put another shrimp on the barbie! Haha. What makes me laugh… hmmm. I really enjoy The Lad Bible. Do you know it? It’s a meme site. I love memes. All kinds of memes!

On the walkback to the flat, Birdie FaceTimesme.

My stomach lurches. Do I need to tell her about the lost letter? I mean, is it worth stressing her out if I’m just going to get it back from the sorting office tomorrow? I decide to tell her the truth. She must be desperate to hear my updates regarding Chuck.

I press answer. And I find out that Chuck appears to be the furthest thing from hermind.

‘WATCH ME PIDDLE!’ she yells into the screen in a stupid voice. ‘Waaaaatch meeeeee!’

‘You saw it!’ I hiss into the screen. ‘Nooooooo!’

Birdie laughs. ‘Seems you omitted to tell me a little something about your flight to New York. Why the hell are you being impersonated on Sunday Night Live? And why didn’t you tellme?’

With a very red face and over the sound of her squealing laughter, I tell her about Seth and the misunderstanding on the plane. And then I tell her about people recognising me in the street, how I accidentally posted the letter, how Seth was right there in the street and how he’s coming to the sorting office with me tomorrow and that I will absolutely get it back and that she mustn’t worry. I expect her to be at least slightly upset about the letter, but she’s far more interested in that damn Sunday Night Livesketch.

‘I was hoping it wouldn’t make its way to the UK,’ I say, approaching Riverside Drive and walking by CentralPark.

‘It showed up on my Facebook feed this morning.’

‘Noooo! I am mortified.’

‘It’s badass!’

‘What?’

‘Who can say that they got impersonated on an American institution of a TV show? You must have made quite an impression on this writerguy.’

‘Yeah, peeing in front of someone will dothat.’

Looking up and noticing that the grey clouds above have cleared a little, I take a seat on a wooden bench by thepark.

‘I hoped that you might have had a little adventure in Manhattan, but this is insane.’

‘I know. I’ve only been here two days and it’s been completely mental.’

‘Well it’s cheering me up noend!’

‘My misery is cheering you up noend?’

Birdie rolls her eyes. ‘Are you really fed up? More miserable than you are most of the time athome?’

I’m about to protest that I’m not at all miserable at home. But I bite the inside of my cheek and think about Birdie’s words.

Hmmm. I’m het up, and a bit panicked, embarrassed and having a complete rollercoaster of emotions right now. But I’m certainly not bored. And that’s the thing about home. I’m happy enough there, I’m not miserable, not at all, but maybe… I don’t know, I’m a little bored?

No. I can’t be. I like my life. Everything is simple and easy in Saddleworth. These past two days have been the opposite of simple and easy. They have been crazy and non-stop. That’s not my goal state.

I shrug. ‘It’s certainly entertaininghere.’

‘So what are you doing tonight?’ Birdieasks.

‘There’s a new Aziz Ansari stand-up special on Netflix. I might order a pizza. It’s an early morning tomorrow.’

Birdie pulls a face and mimes hanging herself with arope.

‘Oi!’ I tell her off. ‘Netflix and chill! What’s wrong withthat?’

‘Netflix and chill is a millennial euphemism for sex, youknow?’

‘Is it?’ My eyebrows shoot up. ‘I don’t getit?’

‘Me either.’ She shrugs. ‘But I’d be more than happy if you plan to Netflix and Chill in that way. Might be a good method to work off some of those high-octane emotions you’re experiencing.’

She stands up and starts thrusting saucily at her hospitalbed.

‘Stop!’ I laugh. ‘You’re gross!’

‘Ooh Colin!’ she yells. ‘Make me feel like a woman, Colin.’

‘I’m hangingup.’

‘Noooo!’

She picks up a pillow and starts pretending to snog it. ‘Colin! Oh Colin! Watch me piddle, Colin.’

Getting cross with her, I lean right into the phone camera.

‘Dr BJ! Ooh Bruce Jim! Your name is so cool! What a turn-on! Ooh, can I interest you in a pleasant BJ, Dr BJ.’ Birdie snorts with laughter and it’s my favourite sound ever. I ham it up some more. I fan myself. ‘My, my, I’ve got a fever, Dr BJ! And the only cure is your peen. Gimme that peen, Dr Bruce Jim. Gimme that peen in mah sweet vajeen!’

I’m closing my eyes and making kissy faces into the camera when I realise that Birdie is no longer laughing.

I open my eyes to see that she is looking in the direction of her hospital roomdoor.

‘Doctor BJ!’ she says, her pale cheeks reddening. ‘Hi. Ahem. Sorry. Um…’

The screen goes blank as Birdie quickly ends thecall.

I spend the next fifteen minutes sitting on the bench and laughing so hard that Icry.

God, I loveher.

* * *

The next morning,my phone alarm yanks me out of a really weird dream. I’m dreaming that Birdie is a ghost and we’re at the top of the Empire State Building and she wants me to jump off. She says that I’ll be able to fly, but I know, for sure, that I will splat onto the top of a yellow cab and make a mess. Then I’m in a big old library, watching the sex scene from Atonement again. Only James McAvoy is actually Colin from the airport. But he can’t seem to get itup.

‘This has never happened before!’ Dream Colinsays.

‘That’s all right. I’m not that bothered about sex anyway!’ Dream version of me replies. But in the dream I’m feeling very disappointed indeed.

As the alarm sounds, I grumble and sit up in the sofa bed. Last night I did Netflix and chill (in the non-millennial way) and while I did enjoy the Aziz Ansari stand-up special, it was finished in about an hour. At home I’d have been content enough to scroll through Instagram, take a bath, organise my closet or read a book, but last night none of those things appealed.

I briefly considered venturing out. Maybe treating myself to a dinner in one of the restaurants Birdie suggested, or going for a walk somewhere. But I soon dismissed the idea when I realised that I am not brave enough to go out for dinner alone. Breakfast and lunch is one thing. But dinner? In a restaurant? Alone? That sounds terrifying!

In the end I knocked on Mrs Ramirez’s door and she was only too happy to feed me soup and tell me tales of all the exotic places she’s visited and which ones I should definitely go to on ‘my next trip abroad’.

After my shower, I peek out of the blind and check the weather. From what I can see, the sky is looking pretty dark and ominous, to be honest. Like something out of Ghostbusters. Plus, it’s raining again. I swallow down my reservations about getting on a ferry in this weather, and get dressed in jeans, my favourite T-shirt with a picture of Bill Murray on the front, and a big maroon-coloured jumper over the top. Layers seem like the right call for a treacherous ferrytrip.

I blow-dry my curls straight in an effort to make myself less recognisable. I don’t have straighteners, but I do have serum (a must in every curly girl’s arsenal), and after a lengthy battle with the hairdryer and a flat paddle brush, my hair looks pretty damn straight. There! No need to wear the beret!

After necking a strong coffee, I pull on my duffel coat, grab an across-the-body satchel, sadly leaving my attention-grabbing bumbag behind, and leave the apartment.

Because I’m already late I decide to forgo the subway, and hail a cab out on the street. But I mustn’t be doing it right because none of the cabs stop for me! I look at my watch. Shit, I need to get a move on. I wave over to Lloyd in the entrance of the building, but he’s chatting intently to another resident and doesn’t noticeme.

I hold my hand out and shake it about, like I see people do on the movies. But it still doesn’twork.

An elderly Jewish woman holding a massive red umbrella shuffles past me. ‘Doll, ya gotta be more aggressive than that!’ She chuckles before continuing on down the street.

I’m not an aggressive person, though! How does one even aggressively hail a cab? Do I flip the middle finger instead of waving my hand? Do I do some of my best karate chop moves to get their attention?

Oh man. I haven’t got time to ponder this if I’m to get to the ferry port on time. So I take a deep breath and yell at the next cab that drives in my direction.

‘Oi!!!! Stop! STOOOOOOOPPPPP!’

To my surprise and delight it works! The cab zooms to a stop right in front of me. I climb in quickly, a little buzz rushing through me. I don’t think I’ve ever shouted that loud before in my wholelife!

‘Where to?’ the cabby asks bluntly.

‘The Whitehall Ferry Terminal,’ I say. ‘And step onit.’

The driver grins at me in the wing mirror and puts his foot down onto the pedal so hard that we take off with a noisy screech, just like in the movies!

I nod, satisfied, allowing myself a little proud smile.

Maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this whole New York thing!

* * *

Nothing dentsthe burgeoning confidence of a scaredy-cat quite like turning up at a rainy ferry port and seeing the ferry – that you’re about to climb on to – rocking from side to side in this alarming weather.

‘Olive? Overhere!’

I spot Seth running over from across the road. He’s wearing a scruffy black T-shirt, a black hoodie and faded black jeans. His hair is all mussed up, like he forgot to combit.

‘I didn’t recognise you without your…’ Seth says, gesturing to hishead.

‘My curls. Yeah. I’m more incognito like this,’ I say, touching my straight locks. ‘No random people shouting “watch me piddle” in the street.’

Seth grimaces. ‘I’m sorry!’ he says. ‘Will you ever forgiveme?’

‘I will if you help me get my letterback.’

‘That’s what I’m herefor!’

‘Good.’

‘Are you all right?’ Seth asks as we start to board the ferry after getting our tickets.

‘Fine!’ Ilie.

‘You look a funny colour.’ He puts a hand on myarm.

I jump a little at his touch and move my arm away. ‘I’m fine! Totallyfine!’

The drizzle has abated somewhat and so, once we’re on the ferry, we go straight onto the deck. I sit down on one of the red painted benches. Seth stands right at the bow, facing into the wind, like this is the Titanic and he is Leonardo DiCaprio.

As the ferry sets off, it rolls from side to side and I try not to think too much about all of the deep murky water beneath us and all the terrible things that could happen if the ferry crashed, or the captain had a heart attack, or the wind became really strong and flipped us over, or if I got sea sick and just started puking and some of the puke got on people’s shoes.

And then I notice that there’s a little cabin full of life jackets. With wobbly legs, I head over and grab one. I look around. No one else is wearing one. Not even the six-year-old twins taking the ferry with their elderly grandpa.

I pull it on and tie the straps as tightly as they can go. It’s not comfortable. Plus, the neck bit is really high and makes me look neckless. I look like a berk, I’m sure. But at least I’m a safeberk!

I take my seat again, my fists clenched, willing this journey to hurry up. Seth turns around from where he’s standing. His face lights up as he takes in my life jacket. Then he purses his lips and I get the feeling he is trying very hard not to take thepiss.

I ignore him, and focus on staring at the floor and not puking.

My phone dings with a text. It’s from Colin! I smile as I open it, trying not think of him being flaccid in my dream, and also trying not to be perturbed by the fact that he said the thing that makes him laugh the most is The Lad Bible. Out of all the great comedy out there!

I am at a beach party. We are drinking punch. None of the girls here are as pretty as you. Or assexy. ;)

I laugh.Our text conversations have been pretty staid so far. He must be tipsy!

I immediately typeback.

Wish I was there! I am on a boat in therain.

I pauseand consider what I should typenext.

I think you are sexytoo.

I send it quickly,before I can change my mind. He said I was sexy. It’s nice to return the compliment. And I think it’s true. I like his sideburns. And texting with him is pleasant. And maybe, if we did start dating, I could wean him off The Lad Bible and introduce him to some real comedy…

Seth comes back to sit beside me. He fiddles with the cuff of his hoodie. ‘Don’t fret, it’s only another twenty minutes until we get there.’

‘I’m fine, Seth!’ I say again.

‘I can hear your dry heaves.’

My cheeks warm. Maaan. I thought I was doing a really good job of keeping them under wraps!

‘Stand up,’ Seth instructsme.

‘Sorry?’

‘Stand up!’ Seth repeats, taking my arm and pulling me up from my bench. Argh!

He points into the distance.

‘Look!’ hesays.

Ohwow.

Wow.

It’s Manhattan. Looking like a postcard. An eerie postcard with dark skies and ominous clouds, but a postcard nonetheless.

It’s pretty spectacular.

‘Woah,’ Isay.

It almost doesn’t lookreal.

‘That’s the reason you should always take the ferry to Staten Island,’ Seth says, gazing ahead in wonder. ‘The view of Lower Manhattan never disappoints.’

I hold my phone up and snap a picture. Not just for Birdie, this time, but for myself too. Seth’s right. It’s out of this world!

Behind us, a couple of teenagers pass by and point at me in my life jacket, laughing at what a dork Iam.

I stick my tongue out at them, only thankful that I straightened my hair and they don’t recognise me from the TVtoo.

And then, to my surprise Seth strides over to the life jacket booth, gets one and pulls iton.

He looks like even more of a berk thanme.

And then, without a word he comes and stands back next tome.

‘Yo, take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer!’ he yells to the cocky teenagers. They laugh and point at him then, instead ofme.

And I get the feeling that was very much his intention.