Still Me
Page 41
‘I can’t decide between this and the fur.’
‘Sweetheart,’ said Lydia, lighting a Sobranie, ‘you can’t wear fur on Fifth Avenue. People won’t realize you’re doing it ironically.’
When I finally left the changing room, Sam was standing at the counter. He held out a package.
‘It’s the sixties dress,’ Lydia said helpfully.
‘You bought it for me?’ I took it from him. ‘Really? You didn’t think it was too loud?’
‘It’s totally insane,’ Sam said, straight-faced. ‘But you looked so happy wearing it … so …’
‘Oh, my, he’s a keeper,’ whispered Lydia, as we headed out, her cigarette wedged into the corner of her mouth. ‘Also, next time get him to buy you the jumpsuit. You looked like a total boss.’
We went back to the apartment for a couple of hours and napped, fully dressed and wrapped around each other chastely, overloaded with carbohydrates. At four we rose groggily and agreed we should head out and do our last excursion, as Sam had to catch the eight a.m. flight from JFK the following day. While he packed up his few things I went to make tea in the kitchen where I found Nathan mixing some kind of protein shake. He grinned. ‘I hear your man is here.’
‘Is absolutely nothing private in this corridor?’ I filled the kettle and flicked the switch.
‘Not when the walls are this thin, mate, no,’ he said. ‘I’m kidding!’ he said, as I flushed to my hairline. ‘Didn’t hear a thing. Nice to know from the colour of your face that you had a good night, though!’
I was about to hit him when Sam appeared at the door. Nathan stopped in front of him, reached out a hand. ‘Ah. The famous Sam. Nice to finally meet you, mate.’
‘And you.’
I waited anxiously to see if they were going to get all alpha male with each other. But Nathan was naturally too laid back and Sam was still sweetened from twenty-four hours of food and sex. They just shook hands, grinned at each other and exchanged pleasantries.
‘Are you guys going out tonight?’ Nathan swigged at his drink as I handed Sam a mug of tea.
‘We thought we might head up to the top of 30 Rockefeller. It’s kind of a mission.’
‘Aw, mates. You don’t want to be standing in tourist queues on your last night. Come to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge over in the East Village. I’m meeting my mates there – Lou, you met the guys last time we headed out. They’re doing some promo there tonight. It’s always a good buzz.’
I looked over at Sam. He shrugged. We could pop by for a half-hour, I said. Then maybe we could go up to Top of the Rock by ourselves. It was open till eleven fifteen.
Three hours later we were wedged around a cluttered table, my brain spinning gently from the cocktails that had landed, one after another, on its surface. I had worn my psychedelic shift dress because I wanted to show Sam how much I loved it. He, meanwhile, in the way that men who love the company of other men do, had bonded with Nathan and his friends. They were loudly running down each other’s musical choices and comparing gig horror stories from their youth.
With one part of my being I smiled and joined in the conversation and with the other I made mental calculations as to how often I could contribute financially so that Sam could come here twice as much as we had originally planned. Surely he could see how good this was. How good we were together.
Sam got up to buy the next round. ‘I’ll get a couple of menus,’ he mouthed. I nodded. I knew I should probably eat something if only so I didn’t disgrace myself later on.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘You really are stalking me!’ Josh beamed down at me, white teeth in a wide smile. I stood abruptly, flushing. I turned, but Sam was at the bar, his back to us. ‘Josh! Hi!’
‘You know this is pretty much my other favourite bar, right?’ He was wearing a soft, striped blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up.
‘I didn’t!’ My voice was too high, my speech too fast.
‘I believe you. You want a drink? They do an Old-Fashioned that is something else.’ He reached out and touched my elbow.
I sprang back as if he’d burnt me. ‘Yes, I know. And no. Thank you. I’m here with friends and …’ I turned just in time for Sam to arrive back, holding a tray of drinks, a couple of menus under his arm.
‘Hey,’ he said, and glanced at Josh, before he placed the tray on the table. Then he straightened up slowly and really looked at him.
I stood, my hands stiff by my side. ‘Josh, this is Sam, my – my boyfriend. Sam, this is – this is Josh.’
Sam was staring at Josh, as if he was trying to take something in. ‘Yeah,’ Sam said finally. ‘I think I could have worked that out.’ He looked at me, then back at Josh.
‘Do – do you guys want a drink? I mean, I can see you’ve got some but I’d be glad to line up some more.’ Josh gestured towards the bar.
‘No. Thanks, mate,’ said Sam, who had remained standing so that he was a good half-head taller than Josh. ‘I think we’re good here.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘Okay then.’ Josh looked at me, and nodded. ‘Great to meet you, Sam. You here for long?’
‘Long enough.’ Sam’s smile didn’t stretch as far as his eyes. I had never seen him quite so prickly.
‘Well, then … I’ll leave you guys to it. Louisa – I’ll see you around. Have a great evening.’ He held up his palms, a pacifying gesture. I opened my mouth but there was nothing to say that sounded right, so I waved, a weird, fluttering gesture with my fingers.
Sam sat down heavily. I glanced across the table at Nathan, whose face was a study in neutrality. The other guys didn’t appear to have noticed anything and were still talking about ticket prices at their last gig. Sam was briefly lost in thought. He finally looked up. I reached for his hand but he didn’t squeeze mine back.
The mood didn’t recover. The bar was too noisy for me to talk to him, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I sipped my cocktail and ran through a hundred looping arguments in my head. Sam swigged his drink and nodded and smiled at the guys’ jokes, but I saw the tic in his jaw and knew his heart was no longer in it. At ten we peeled off and got a taxi towards home.
I let him hail it.
We went up in the service lift, as instructed, and listened before we crept into my room. Mr Gopnik appeared to be in bed. Sam didn’t speak. He went into the bathroom to change and closed the door behind him, his back rigid. I heard him brush his teeth and gargle as I crept into bed, feeling wrong-footed and angry at the same time. He seemed to be in there for ever. Finally, he opened the door and stood there in his boxers. His scars still ran livid red across his stomach. ‘I’m being a dick.’
‘Yes. Yes, you are.’
He let out a huge breath. He looked at my photograph of Will, nestled between the one of himself and the one of my sister with Thom, whose finger was up his nose. ‘Sorry. It just threw me. How much he looks like …’
‘I know. But you might as well say you spending time with my sister and her looking like me is weird.’
‘Except she doesn’t look like you.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘… what?’
‘I’m waiting for you to say I’m miles better-looking.’
‘You are miles better-looking.’
I pushed the covers back to let him in and he climbed in beside me.
‘You’re much better-looking than your sister. Heaps better. You’re basically a supermodel.’ He placed a hand on my hip. It was warm and heavy. ‘But with shorter legs. How’s that working for you?’
I tried not to smile. ‘Better. But quite rude about my short legs.’
‘They’re beautiful legs. My favourite legs. Supermodel legs are just – boring.’ He moved across so that he was over me. Every time he did that it was like bits of me sparked into involuntary life and I had to work hard not to wriggle. He rested on his elbows, pinning me in place and looking down at my face, which I was trying to make stern even though my heart was thumping.
‘Sweetheart,’ said Lydia, lighting a Sobranie, ‘you can’t wear fur on Fifth Avenue. People won’t realize you’re doing it ironically.’
When I finally left the changing room, Sam was standing at the counter. He held out a package.
‘It’s the sixties dress,’ Lydia said helpfully.
‘You bought it for me?’ I took it from him. ‘Really? You didn’t think it was too loud?’
‘It’s totally insane,’ Sam said, straight-faced. ‘But you looked so happy wearing it … so …’
‘Oh, my, he’s a keeper,’ whispered Lydia, as we headed out, her cigarette wedged into the corner of her mouth. ‘Also, next time get him to buy you the jumpsuit. You looked like a total boss.’
We went back to the apartment for a couple of hours and napped, fully dressed and wrapped around each other chastely, overloaded with carbohydrates. At four we rose groggily and agreed we should head out and do our last excursion, as Sam had to catch the eight a.m. flight from JFK the following day. While he packed up his few things I went to make tea in the kitchen where I found Nathan mixing some kind of protein shake. He grinned. ‘I hear your man is here.’
‘Is absolutely nothing private in this corridor?’ I filled the kettle and flicked the switch.
‘Not when the walls are this thin, mate, no,’ he said. ‘I’m kidding!’ he said, as I flushed to my hairline. ‘Didn’t hear a thing. Nice to know from the colour of your face that you had a good night, though!’
I was about to hit him when Sam appeared at the door. Nathan stopped in front of him, reached out a hand. ‘Ah. The famous Sam. Nice to finally meet you, mate.’
‘And you.’
I waited anxiously to see if they were going to get all alpha male with each other. But Nathan was naturally too laid back and Sam was still sweetened from twenty-four hours of food and sex. They just shook hands, grinned at each other and exchanged pleasantries.
‘Are you guys going out tonight?’ Nathan swigged at his drink as I handed Sam a mug of tea.
‘We thought we might head up to the top of 30 Rockefeller. It’s kind of a mission.’
‘Aw, mates. You don’t want to be standing in tourist queues on your last night. Come to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge over in the East Village. I’m meeting my mates there – Lou, you met the guys last time we headed out. They’re doing some promo there tonight. It’s always a good buzz.’
I looked over at Sam. He shrugged. We could pop by for a half-hour, I said. Then maybe we could go up to Top of the Rock by ourselves. It was open till eleven fifteen.
Three hours later we were wedged around a cluttered table, my brain spinning gently from the cocktails that had landed, one after another, on its surface. I had worn my psychedelic shift dress because I wanted to show Sam how much I loved it. He, meanwhile, in the way that men who love the company of other men do, had bonded with Nathan and his friends. They were loudly running down each other’s musical choices and comparing gig horror stories from their youth.
With one part of my being I smiled and joined in the conversation and with the other I made mental calculations as to how often I could contribute financially so that Sam could come here twice as much as we had originally planned. Surely he could see how good this was. How good we were together.
Sam got up to buy the next round. ‘I’ll get a couple of menus,’ he mouthed. I nodded. I knew I should probably eat something if only so I didn’t disgrace myself later on.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘You really are stalking me!’ Josh beamed down at me, white teeth in a wide smile. I stood abruptly, flushing. I turned, but Sam was at the bar, his back to us. ‘Josh! Hi!’
‘You know this is pretty much my other favourite bar, right?’ He was wearing a soft, striped blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up.
‘I didn’t!’ My voice was too high, my speech too fast.
‘I believe you. You want a drink? They do an Old-Fashioned that is something else.’ He reached out and touched my elbow.
I sprang back as if he’d burnt me. ‘Yes, I know. And no. Thank you. I’m here with friends and …’ I turned just in time for Sam to arrive back, holding a tray of drinks, a couple of menus under his arm.
‘Hey,’ he said, and glanced at Josh, before he placed the tray on the table. Then he straightened up slowly and really looked at him.
I stood, my hands stiff by my side. ‘Josh, this is Sam, my – my boyfriend. Sam, this is – this is Josh.’
Sam was staring at Josh, as if he was trying to take something in. ‘Yeah,’ Sam said finally. ‘I think I could have worked that out.’ He looked at me, then back at Josh.
‘Do – do you guys want a drink? I mean, I can see you’ve got some but I’d be glad to line up some more.’ Josh gestured towards the bar.
‘No. Thanks, mate,’ said Sam, who had remained standing so that he was a good half-head taller than Josh. ‘I think we’re good here.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘Okay then.’ Josh looked at me, and nodded. ‘Great to meet you, Sam. You here for long?’
‘Long enough.’ Sam’s smile didn’t stretch as far as his eyes. I had never seen him quite so prickly.
‘Well, then … I’ll leave you guys to it. Louisa – I’ll see you around. Have a great evening.’ He held up his palms, a pacifying gesture. I opened my mouth but there was nothing to say that sounded right, so I waved, a weird, fluttering gesture with my fingers.
Sam sat down heavily. I glanced across the table at Nathan, whose face was a study in neutrality. The other guys didn’t appear to have noticed anything and were still talking about ticket prices at their last gig. Sam was briefly lost in thought. He finally looked up. I reached for his hand but he didn’t squeeze mine back.
The mood didn’t recover. The bar was too noisy for me to talk to him, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I sipped my cocktail and ran through a hundred looping arguments in my head. Sam swigged his drink and nodded and smiled at the guys’ jokes, but I saw the tic in his jaw and knew his heart was no longer in it. At ten we peeled off and got a taxi towards home.
I let him hail it.
We went up in the service lift, as instructed, and listened before we crept into my room. Mr Gopnik appeared to be in bed. Sam didn’t speak. He went into the bathroom to change and closed the door behind him, his back rigid. I heard him brush his teeth and gargle as I crept into bed, feeling wrong-footed and angry at the same time. He seemed to be in there for ever. Finally, he opened the door and stood there in his boxers. His scars still ran livid red across his stomach. ‘I’m being a dick.’
‘Yes. Yes, you are.’
He let out a huge breath. He looked at my photograph of Will, nestled between the one of himself and the one of my sister with Thom, whose finger was up his nose. ‘Sorry. It just threw me. How much he looks like …’
‘I know. But you might as well say you spending time with my sister and her looking like me is weird.’
‘Except she doesn’t look like you.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘… what?’
‘I’m waiting for you to say I’m miles better-looking.’
‘You are miles better-looking.’
I pushed the covers back to let him in and he climbed in beside me.
‘You’re much better-looking than your sister. Heaps better. You’re basically a supermodel.’ He placed a hand on my hip. It was warm and heavy. ‘But with shorter legs. How’s that working for you?’
I tried not to smile. ‘Better. But quite rude about my short legs.’
‘They’re beautiful legs. My favourite legs. Supermodel legs are just – boring.’ He moved across so that he was over me. Every time he did that it was like bits of me sparked into involuntary life and I had to work hard not to wriggle. He rested on his elbows, pinning me in place and looking down at my face, which I was trying to make stern even though my heart was thumping.
