Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

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Sonny arrivesat our booth with a massive pizza topped with meatballs. It’s ginormous. And it smells delicious, all tomatoey and spicy and terrible forme.

‘How you doin?’ Seth says to the pizza, an eyebrow raised flirtatiously. He picks up the pizza slicer and separates it into slices. ‘You lookin’ realfine.’

Chuckling, I pick up a slice. It’s all doughy and heavy, the slice drooping in my hand, cheese sliding precariously to theleft.

‘Hold it like this!’ Seth folds it slightly at the end. ‘Trust me, I am a pizza expert.’

I follow Seth’s instructions and take a smallbite.

Oh.

Oh.

I take another, bigger bite, the salted tomato sauce bursting with flavour in my mouth, combined with the gooey cheese.

‘Oh my god,’ I whisper. ‘Great Scott! Meatballs. On pizza. Fuckyes.’

Seth looks me in the eye, nodding slowly, chewing down on another mouthful. ‘Fuck. Yes.’

We go quiet while we munch down. At home I try to keep my meal choices simple and healthy – rice and veggies, chicken salads, lentil soup. Right now I realise I have been an idiot the whole time. I should have just been eating meatball pizza my entirelife.

I’m just finishing up my last slice when the alarm goes off on my phone. I wipe my tomatoey mouth with a paper napkin, and pull my phone out of my satchel to turn the alarmoff.

‘Time to go!’ I say, folding the napkin and placing it neatly on top of my plate.

‘You set an alarm?’ Seth asks incredulously.

‘Of course!’ I say, patting my stomach in satisfaction. ‘I can’t miss the next ferry? I really do need to get to Wall Street.’

‘Fair enough,’ Seth says, looking slightly disappointed. When he goes to the bar to settle the bill, I double- and triple-check that I have the letter in my satchel. I do. I definitely have it. It’s right there and it’s not going anywhere except for right into Chuck’s hands.

I pull my umbrella out in anticipation of the rainy walk back to the terminal.

When Seth’s paid and hugged Phyllis and Sonny goodbye, I call out my thanks for a delicious meal, drain the last of my beer and head to thedoor.

As I step out of the bar and flip open my umbrella, the wind blows so fiercely that it turns completely insideout.

Argh!

I yelp, trying to wrestle my brolly back into shape, meanwhile getting absolutely soaked through by rainfall that feels like someone chucking a bucket of water over myhead.

‘Help!’ I yell as I grapple with the umbrella, ducking as one of the spokes almost stabs me in theboob.

Seth appears behind me, mouth agape at the state of the sky. He grabs the top of the parasol and yanks hard, but the wind howls past us so quickly that it’s no use. This isn’t wind. It’s superwind.

Across the street my eyes widen, horrified, as a wooden gate opens and closes so furiously that it almost comes off its hinges. I try once more to make the umbrella work. I turn into the gale and hold the edges, but before I can stop it, it flies open again and hits Seth in the eyebrow. Shit! His eyebrow is bleeding. I’ve maimed him! I’ve maimed him with my umbrella! Ohno!

I try to yell sorry over the sound of the storm, but it’s too loud. Seth grabs my hand and yanks me back inside the bar, blood trickling from his forehead.

‘Shit! Shit! I’m so sorry!’ I shriek, panting as Seth touches a hand to his head. ‘Are you all right?’

Phyllis hurries over at the commotion.

‘Baby, your head! Let me get you a Band-Aid.’ She jogs off behind thebar.

‘I’m fine!’ Seth assures me. But there’s blood everywhere!

I reach into my satchel and pull out the handkerchief Mrs Ramirez gave to me, pressing it against thecut.

‘Thanks,’ Seth says, putting his hand over mine to stop the bleeding. ‘Honestly, I’m completelyfine.’

‘Good. Good,’ I say, removing my hand from underneathhis.

‘Looks like we’re gonna need to get a cab back to the ferryport.’

‘Definitely,’ I say wide-eyed. There’s no way I’m going back out there again without the cover of acar!

Phyllis returns with a plaster and some cotton wool, instructing Seth to sit back down in a booth so she can tend to him. While she’s fussing over him, Seth pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket and taps out a minicab number, while I unbutton my coat and use my dry jumper sleeve to dab at my wetface.

‘A cab from Trickys on St Mark’s Place to St George Terminal, please.’

Seth frowns.

‘What? Really? Why? Well… can we get a cab straight to Manhattan then? And the ferries?’

‘What are they saying?’ I whisper nervously. ‘Is there a long wait? I mean, I’ll be okay as long as I can get to Wall Street before close of business.’

Seth presses a button on his phone, ending thecall.

‘I can’t believe it!’ he says. ‘The cabs aren’t running. The storm is getting really bad. The drivers have been told to stay off the roads.’

Shit!

I start to pull my coat back on. I’m gonna have to walk it. I need to get to Wall Street this afternoon! ‘You stay here,’ I say. ‘But I really need to go. I’ll just braveit.’

Seth puts his hand on my arm. ‘Olive… the ferries have been cancelled until the storm clears.’

I frown. ‘When… when will that be? An hour? Oh jeez, two hours? It’s Tuesday and my flight back is on Thursday morning at 3 a.m. I don’t have much time to get this letter delivered!’

‘I’m not sure,’ Seth says apologetically. ‘The cab guy just told me they were all cancelled.’

‘Ohno!’

‘Sonny!’ Phyllis shouts into the kitchen. ‘Have you heard anything about this storm?’

Sonny shuffles into the room, grim-faced. He grabs the remote control and flicks through the channels on the TV. I’ve already got my phone out and am googling Staten Island Storm Ferries. But I needn’t bother because Sonny finds a news channel showing pictures of a very stormy Hudson river.

The news anchor on screen looks into the camera solemnly. ‘Sources suggest that the eye of the storm will pass through at around 1 a.m. While some treacherous weather was expected, a gale of this magnitude wasnot.’

I flop onto the booth. ‘One a.m.?’ I mutter worriedly. ‘What?’

‘Both of you will stay here,’ Phyllis says, clapping her hands together, stirred into action. ‘I have a bunch of rooms upstairs.’

‘Are you sure, Phyllis?’ Seth asks. ‘That’s real kind ofyou.’

‘Nonsense. I got theroom.’

Stay here? I don’t have my stuff. I don’t have my pyjamas. And what about Chuck? I’ve already been here for three days and I’ve still not delivered the letter. What if he’s not there tomorrow? I can’t let Birdie down. I promisedher!

My heart thuds very slowly. I can hear it in my head. Boom. Boom. Boom. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Shit. I think I’m having a panic attack. I fumble in my bag distractedly for my bottle of Rescue Remedy. But it’s not there. Of course. It’s in the pink bumbag back at the Airbnb.

I close my eyes, willing this uneasiness to bugger the hell off. Ugh. It’s horrid! I haven’t had a real panic attack for years. But then, not much has happened to me for years either!

‘Hey. Hey, Olive!’ I hear Phyllis’s voice saying my name, but it sounds all echoey and weird and I can’t focus. Then I feel something sharp and painful on myarm.

‘Motherfucker!’ I yell inpain.

‘There you are, honey.’

My vision comes sharply into focus and I look across the booth where Phyllis is staring at my worriedly, Seth by her side wearing the exact same expression.

‘Did you… did you just pinch me?’ I gasp, rubbing myarm.

‘Yeah,’ Phyllis says with a nod. She takes hold of my hand. ‘You’re having a panic attack.’

I nod, my heart still thudding slowly in my ears. I feel all hot and queasy.

‘I want you to focus on my face,’ Phyllissays

I nod and focus on Phyllis’s tanned, pointedface.

‘That’s it,’ she says. ‘You are okay. Everything is okay. Say it back to me, honey.’

‘I am okay, everything isokay.’

‘Great! If I relax, this willpass.’

‘If I relax, this willpass.’

‘That’s correct! Now, I want you to watch me and I’m going to breathe in for four and out for four and I want you to copy me. Breathe in right from your belly, honey. Nice and slownow.’

Holding Phyllis’s hand, I copy her as she breathes in and out. As we breathe and count, Seth leaves the booth, but I barely notice.

I’m not sure how long we’re breathing for, but I feel my heart speed back up, my cheeks feel less warm, my shoulders less scrunched. I’m okay. Everything isokay.

‘That’s it,’ Phyllis says in a soothing voice. ‘There yougo.’

I wipe my wet hair back from my face. ‘Wow. Thank you. How did you dothat?’

‘Fuckin’ anxiety. I used to have a lot ofit.’

‘How did you get it tostop?’

Phyllis shrugs. ‘It still visits occasionally. The best I can do is work at prevention. I’ve had to learn to relax with meditation and yoga. You can’t just expect it to go away on its own. You feeling better?’

I blink, smiling in relief.

Phyllis returns to the bar to serve the customers who now seem to be taking this storm as a signal to hunker down and get even more day drunk then they alreadyare.

Okay. Everything isokay.

Except I now have less than thirty-six hours to find Chuck and deliver Birdie’s letter.

I reach into my satchel and pull out my phone.

I need to speak to Birdie.