“Sure.” I smile happily at him. “It’s wine time now, isn’t it?”
“I sincerely think so.” He grins back. “I’ll go grab the others, ok?”
I nod as I clear up in the room and put my laptop away. I look at my watch and see it’s 7pm. It’s nearly midnight at home, probably too late to call Tristan back. We’ve been missing each other’s calls this past week.
I walk over to the wall-to-ceiling windows as I do every night and stand gaping out.
It’s my evening ritual. It doesn’t matter how late I work; I always have time to finish the workday with this. It’s the only time I feel a sense of stillness.
We are on the 20th floor, and I’ll never get used to the Manhattan Skyline in the dark, the colourful lights of the skyscrapers dancing off each other. In the distance, I can see the iconic Rockefeller center. Apparently, in a few weeks’ time, we’ll be able to see the Christmas tree. Working here every day with this background? It never gets old.
“You ready, Charlie?” Joe puts a hand on my shoulder and drags me from my daze. “We’re heading to Dead Rabbit.”
I nod, put on my coat, and then pick up my hat and scarf. I hesitate as I always do, smelling the hint of the scent there before. The smell of our weekend beside the fire in Shetland. I wear them every day here, not just because the New York winters are brutal, but because, in some far-fetched way, they make me feel close to him.
“What are we eating?” I ask hesitantly.
He shrugs. “We’ll eat at Dead Rabbit.”
I let out a groan. “Look, I know New York is a foodie heaven but these portions… I’m growing a snout and a tail.”
***
Dead Rabbit is heaving as we walk in, and I spot at least five of the team in one of the corner booths whilst a few others are playing darts.
I love these American-style bars with their old-school sawdust floors and prohibition-era style bar booths. Sometimes on Saturdays, I go in by myself and spend hours writing the lyrics of songs, chatting to the bartenders. Here in New York, bartending and waitressing is an art form; the bartenders are counsellors, and the waitresses are mind readers, knowing exactly when to approach you and when to give space.
We squeeze our way through the crowd to the booth.
“Charlie, Joe,” Karl grins at us, beckoning us over. “What are you having?” “Two old fashioneds please, boss,” Joe says.
He looks around the group. “Two old fashioneds, two whisky sours, G & T… coming right up.” “Do you need a hand, Karl?” I shout over the music.
“Sure.” he smiles, putting his hand on my lower back as we make our way to the bar.
“How are you, Charlie?” He looks genuinely concerned. “Are you enjoying New York?”
“I love New York.” That wasn’t a lie; I did love New York. I’ve walked every inch of the glitzy concrete jungle and its parks. My distractions.
“You seem to have settled into the design team shockingly fast.” He looks at me, and I glow at the compliment. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to make sure you’re ok this past week.” I heard he had been in Singapore for a tech conference.
“You don’t need to make sure I’m ok, Karl.” I frown. “You’ve got 100 people in the office to look after.”
His eyes flit from mine as he goes to stay something but holds back.
He thinks he needs to watch out for me after what’s happened with Danny.
There’s been an unspoken rule since I landed in New York. We don’t talk about Danny to each other. Karl had taken me out for lunch a few times over my first few weeks. I’d never been able to get to know him properly before; we only ever crossed paths at Tristan’s parties. We had only ever scratched the surface, but here in New York, I’ve been able to spend time with him. We talked for hours about the new plans for the Dunley products.
“What are your weekend plans?” he asks as he hands the bartender his card. “Actually, I was going to do some work on Saturday,” I admit sheepishly.
“Work on a weekend?” He raises a brow. “Are we working you too hard?”
“No.” I smile. “I just want to finish some design ideas so Joe can build the prototypes.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me.
“You are really flourishing in this role Charlie. It’s a good fit for you. I never realised you had such a creative streak.”
“Thanks, Karl.” I blush. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“Look, don’t spend all weekend working, though?” He asks as he hands me the two old fashioneds.
“I won’t,” I promise. “On Sunday, Joe is taking me to the Brooklyn Museum.”
Karl lifts a brow. “Joe, huh?” Doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?”
“Yes,” I reply with a hint of irritation. What’s he insinuating? “He’s been showing me around the city.”
“You know he is interested in you?” “Nothing is going on, Karl.” I frown.
Interest flickers in his eyes then disappears. “I’m glad you’ve got someone showing you around.” “Do you know anyone else here?”
“No,” I shrug. And that’s ok with me. Because when I stop pounding the streets going to museums, art galleries, comedy clubs, and burger joints, I close the door to my beautiful loft apartment and can be alone to cry.
“Let’s you and I go out for lunch soon, ok?”
“I’d like that.” I nod at him, smiling. I take a large slug of my Old Fashioned.
It burns going down my windpipe, but it might help me get to sleep quicker. Huh. So this is how you become an alcoholic.
***
It’s midnight by the time I get back into the apartment and throw my shoes off. Too late for a school night with the amount of work I need to do tomorrow.
Although I miss Cat and the girls, I love living alone in this beautiful apartment with its exposed brick and high beamed ceilings that I’d never been able to afford if Nexus didn’t own it.
I turn on the heating, get into my sweatpants, then sit cross-legged on the sofa with my laptop resting on my legs and my herbal sleeping pill dissolving in hot water.
Then I flick to the photos I’d taken with my professional camera and allow the tears to fall. We looked like the happiest couple in the world like we belonged together.
For four weeks, I’ve done this ritual.
Fun times, I think sarcastically to myself.
During the day, I am ‘happy go lucky’ Charlie exploring the best of New York, at night time alone in my apartment, I allow myself to mourn.
I replay every interaction we’ve ever had in microscopic detail, then torture myself of scenarios of the present- how many times has he slept with Jackie? Was it just sex, or did he like her? Did he love her? Was he going to take her to Shetland? That thought made my heart freeze.
Stevie was giving me snippets of what was happening in London. He’s been told he can keep his job. He said Jackie had been off on sick leave, and Danny was walking around in a permanent bad mood. Julie says he’s suing her media company for defamation of character.
At work, things are back to the way they were before, he’s the CEO, and I’m just an employee, I get my paychecks, I get his company-wide emails of motivation, and once a month, I painfully listen to a live video he streams with all 700 employees.
I exit my photo collection and click on the music software.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been writing new material, much darker than my usual upbeat songs because writing lyrics about pain brings back the pain and the sadistic side of me wants to wallow in this darkness for as long as possible.