Still Me - Page 70/103

‘You made this for me?’

Ilaria was prodding Nathan in the chest. ‘I know she does not do this thing they say. I know plenty. Plenty that goes on this apartment.’ She tapped her nose. ‘Oh, yes.’

I briefly lifted the lid – delicious smells seeped out. I suddenly remembered I had barely eaten all day. ‘Thanks, Ilaria. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Where you go now?’

‘I haven’t got a clue.’

‘Well. You’re not staying in a hostel in bloody Bensonhurst,’ Nathan said. ‘You can stay here for a night or two to sort yourself out. I’ll lock my door. You won’t say anything, will you, Ilaria?’

She pulled an incredulous face, like it was stupid of him even to ask.

‘She’s been cursing your woman out all afternoon like you wouldn’t believe. Says she sold you down the river. She made them a fish thing for dinner that she knows they both hate. I tell you, mate, I’ve learnt a whole new bunch of swear words today.’

Ilaria muttered something under her breath. I could only make out the word puta.

The easy chair was too small for Nathan to sleep in and he was too old fashioned to countenance me sleeping in it so we agreed to share his double bed with an arrangement of cushions down the middle to protect us from accidentally touching each other in the night. I’m not sure who was more ill-at-ease. Nathan made a great show of shepherding me into the bathroom first, making sure I’d locked the door, and waiting for me to get into bed before he emerged from his ablutions. He was in a T-shirt and striped cotton pyjama bottoms, and even then I didn’t know where to look.

‘Bit weird, eh?’ he said, climbing in.

‘Um, yes.’ I don’t know if it was shock or exhaustion or just the surreal turn of events but I started to giggle. And then the giggle turned into tears. And before I knew it I was sobbing, hunched over in a strange bed, my head in my hands.

‘Aw, mate.’ Nathan plainly felt awkward hugging me while we were actually in bed together. He kept patting my shoulder and leaning in towards me. ‘It’ll be all right.’

‘How can it be? I’ve lost my job and my place to live and the man I loved. I’ll have no references, because Mr Gopnik thinks I’m a thief, and I don’t even know which country I belong in.’ I wiped my nose on my sleeve. ‘I’ve messed up everything again and I don’t know why I even bother trying to be something more than I was because every time I do it ends in disaster.’

‘You’re just tired. It’ll be all right. It will.’

‘Like it was with Will?’

‘Aw … that was completely different. Come on …’ Nathan hugged me then, pulling me into his shoulder, his big arm around me. I cried until I couldn’t cry any more and then, just as he said, exhausted by the day’s – and night’s – events, I must have fallen asleep.

I woke eight hours later to find myself alone in Nathan’s room. It took me a couple of minutes to work out where I was and then the previous day’s events hit me. I lay under the duvet for a while, curled up in a foetal ball, wondering idly if I could just stay there for a year or two until my life had somehow sorted itself out.

I checked my phone: two missed calls and a series of messages from Josh that seemed to have come through in a clump late the previous evening.

Hey, Louisa – hope you’re feeling okay. Kept thinking about your dance and bursting out laughing at work! What a night! Jx

You okay? Just checking you did make it home and didn’t take another nap in Times Square ;-) Jx

Okay. So it’s now gone ten thirty. I’m going to guess you headed to bed to sleep it off. Hope I didn’t offend you. I was just kidding around. Give me a call x

That night, with its boxing match and the glittering lights of Times Square, already seemed a lifetime ago. I climbed out of bed, showered and dressed, setting my belongings in the corner of the bathroom. It limited the space somewhat but I thought it was safer, just in case a stray Gopnik happened to poke a head around Nathan’s door.

I texted him to ask when it would be safe for me to go out and he sent back NOW. Both in study. I slipped out of the apartment and down to the service entrance, walking swiftly past Ashok with my head low. He was talking to a delivery man but I saw his head spin and heard his ‘Hey! Louisa!’ but I had already gone.

Manhattan was frozen and grey, one of those bleak days when ice particles seem to hang in the air, the chill pierces your bones, and only eyes, occasionally noses, are visible. I walked with my head down and my hat rammed low, not sure where I was going. I ended up back at the diner, reasoning that everything looked better after breakfast. I sat in a booth by myself and looked out at the commuters with somewhere to go and forced down a muffin, because it was the cheapest, most filling thing on the menu, trying to ignore the fact that it was claggy and tasteless in my mouth.

At nine forty a text arrived. Michael. My heart leapt. Hi, Louisa. Mr Gopnik will pay you to the end of the month in lieu of notice. All your healthcare benefits cease at that point. Your green card is unaffected. I’m sure you understand this is obviously beyond what he was required to do, given the violation of your contract, but Agnes intervened on your behalf.

Best, Michael

‘Nice of her,’ I muttered. Thank you for letting me know, I typed. He didn’t respond further.

And then my phone pinged again. Okay, Louisa. Now I’m worried I did do something to upset you. Or maybe you got lost headed back to Central Park? Please give me a call. JX

I met Josh near his office, one of those buildings in Midtown that are so tall that if you stand on the sidewalk and look up, a little part of your brain suggests you should probably topple over. He came striding towards me, a soft grey scarf wrapped around his neck. As I climbed off the small wall I had been sitting on he walked straight up and gave me a hug.

‘I can’t believe this. C’mon. Ah, boy, you’re freezing. Let’s go grab something warm for you to eat.’

We sat in a steamy, cacophonous taco bar two blocks away while a constant stream of office workers filed through and servers barked orders. I told him, as I had Nathan, the bare bones of the story. ‘I can’t really say any more, just that I didn’t steal anything. I wouldn’t. I’ve never stolen anything. Well, apart from once when I was eight. Mum still brings it up occasionally, if she needs an example of how I nearly ended up on a path to a life of crime.’ I tried to smile.

He frowned. ‘So does this mean you’re going to have to leave New York?’

‘I don’t really know what I’m going to do. But I can’t imagine the Gopniks are going to give me a reference, and I don’t know how I can support myself here. I mean, I don’t have a job and Manhattan hotels are a little out of my price range …’ I had looked online in the diner at local rentals and nearly spat out my coffee. The tiny room I had felt so ambivalent about when I had first arrived with the Gopniks turned out to be affordable only with an executive salary. No wonder that cockroach hadn’t wanted to move.

‘Would it help you to stay at mine?’

I looked up from my taco.

‘Just temporarily. It doesn’t have to mean a whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I have a sofa-bed in the front room. You probably don’t remember.’ He gave me a small smile. I had forgotten how Americans actually genuinely invited people into their homes. Unlike English people, who would issue an invitation but emigrate at short notice if you said you were going to take them up on it.