Still Me
Page 90
Meena stared at the last few lines for a long moment. Then she folded the letter, placed it carefully in the pile and handed them back to me. ‘Oh, Louisa,’ she said, her head cocked to one side. ‘Come on, girl.’
1442 Lantern Drive
Tuckahoe
Westchester, NY
Dear Louisa,
I hope you are well and that the apartment is not proving too troublesome. Frank says the contractors are coming to look round in two weeks – could you be there to let them in? We’ll give you the firm details nearer the time.
Margot isn’t up to writing too much these days – she finds a lot of things tiring and those drugs do make her a little woozy – but I thought you’d like to know that she is being well cared for. We have decided, despite everything, we cannot bear to move her into the home so she will stay with us, with some help from the very kind medical staff. She still has plenty to say to Frank and me, oh, yes! She has us running round like headless chickens most days! I don’t mind. I quite like having someone to look after, and on her good days it’s lovely hearing all the stories of when Frank was a boy. I think he likes hearing them too, even though he won’t admit as much. Two peas in a pod, those two!
Margot asked me to ask you would you mind sending another picture of the dog? She did so like the other one you sent. Frank has put it in a lovely silver frame beside her bed and I know it is a great comfort to her as she spends so much time resting now. I can’t say I find the little fellow quite as pleasing to look at as she plainly does, but each to her own.
She sends you her love and says she hopes you’re still wearing those gorgeous stripy pantyhose. I’m not sure if that’s the pharmaceuticals talking, but I know she means well!
With warmest wishes,
Laynie G. Weber
‘Did you hear?’
I was headed out with Dean Martin to work. Summer had begun to assert its presence forcefully, every day warmer and more humid, so that the short walk to the subway left my shirt stuck to my lower back, and delivery boys exposed pale, sunburnt flesh on their bikes and swore at jaywalking tourists. But I was wearing my 1960s psychedelic dress that Sam had bought me and a pair of cork wedge shoes with pink flowers over the strap, and after the winter I’d had, the sun on my arms was like a balm.
‘Did I hear what?’
‘The library! It’s been saved! Its future has been secured for the next ten years!’ Ashok thrust his phone at me. I stopped on the carpet and lifted my sunglasses to read the text message from Meena. ‘I can’t believe it. An anonymous donation in honour of some dead guy. The – hang on, I got it here.’ He scanned the message with a finger. ‘The William Traynor Memorial Library. But who cares who it is! Funding for ten years, Louisa! And the city council has agreed! Ten years! Oh, man. Meena is over the moon. She was so sure we’d lost it.’
I peered at the phone then handed it back to him. ‘It’s a nice thing, right?’
‘It’s amazing! Who knew, Louisa? Huh? Who knew? One for the little people. Ohhh, yes!’ Ashok’s smile was enormous.
I felt something rise inside me then, a feeling of joy and anticipation so great that it seemed as if the world had briefly stopped turning, like there was just me and the universe and a million good things that could happen if you only hung on in there.
I looked down at Dean Martin, then back at the lobby. I waved to Ashok, adjusted my sunglasses and set off down Fifth Avenue, my own smile growing wider with every step.
I had only asked for five.
32
So, I guess at some point we have to talk about the fact that your year is nearly up. Do you have a date in mind to come home? I’m guessing you can’t stay in the old woman’s place for ever.
I’ve been thinking about your dress agency – Lou, you could use my house as a base if you wanted, got a lot of spare room here, completely free. If you fancied it, you could stay too.
If you think it’s too soon for that but you don’t want to disrupt your sister’s life by moving back to the flat, you could have the railway carriage? This is not my preferred option, by the way, but you always loved it and there is something quite appealing in the thought of having you just across the garden …
There is, of course, another option, which is that this is all too much and you don’t want anything to do with me, but I don’t much like that one. It’s a crappy option. I hope you think so too.
Thoughts?
Sam x
PS Picked up a couple who had been married fifty-six years tonight. He had breathing difficulties – nothing too serious – and she wouldn’t let go of his hand. Fussed over him until they got to hospital. I don’t usually notice these things but tonight? I don’t know.
I miss you, Louisa Clark.
I walked the length of Fifth Avenue, with its clogged artery of traffic and its brightly coloured tourists blocking the sidewalks, and I thought how lucky you might be to find not one but two extraordinary men to love – and what a fluke it was if they happened to love you back. I thought about how you’re shaped so much by the people who surround you, and how careful you have to be in choosing them for this exact reason, and then I thought, despite all that, in the end maybe you have to lose them all in order to truly find yourself.
I thought about Sam and a couple who had been married for fifty-six years, whom I would never meet, and his name in my head became the drumbeat of my footfall as I walked past the Rockefeller Plaza, past the gaudy glitz of Trump Tower, past St Patrick’s, past the huge glowing Uniqlo, with its dazzling pixellated screens, past Bryant Park, the vast and ornate New York Public Library with its vigilant masonry lions, the shops, the hoardings, the tourists, the street vendors and rough sleepers – all the daily features of a life I loved in a city that he didn’t inhabit, and yet, above the noise and the sirens and the blare of the horns, I realised he was there at every step.
Sam.
Sam.
Sam.
And then I thought about how it would feel to go home.
28 October 2006
Mum,
In haste, but I’m coming back to England! I got the job with Rupe’s firm, so I’ll be handing in my notice tomorrow and no doubt headed out of the office with my belongings in a box minutes later – these Wall Street firms don’t like to hang on to people out here if they think you might plunder the client lists.
So, come the New Year, I’ll be executive director in Mergers and Acquisitions back in London. Really looking forward to a new challenge. Thought I’d take a little break first – might do that month-long Patagonian trek I’ve been going on about – and then I’ll have to find somewhere to live. If you get the chance, could you sign me up with some estate agents? Usual postcodes, very central, two/three beds. Underground parking for the bike if possible (yes, I know you hate me using it).
Oh, and you’ll like this. I met someone. Alicia Deware. She’s actually English but she was out here visiting friends and I met her at a bloody awful dinner and we went out a few times before she had to head back to Notting Hill. Proper dating, not the New York kind. Early days but she’s good fun. I’ll be seeing a bit of her when I come back. Don’t go looking at wedding hats just yet, though. You know me.
So that’s it! Give my love to Dad – tell him I’ll be buying him a pint or two at the Royal Oak very soon.
To new beginnings, eh?
With love, your son
Will x
I read and reread Will’s letter, with its hints of a parallel universe, and what-might-have-been landed gently around me like falling snow. I read between the lines at the future that could have been his and Alicia’s – or even his and mine. More than once William John Traynor had pushed the course of my life off its predetermined rails – not with a nudge but with an emphatic shove. By sending me his correspondence, Camilla Traynor had inadvertently ensured he did it again.
To new beginnings, eh?
I read his words once more, then folded the letter carefully back with the others and sat, thinking. Then I poured myself the last of Margot’s vermouth, stared into space for a bit, sighed, walked to the front door with my laptop, sat on the floor and wrote:
Dear Sam,
I’m not ready.
I know it’s been almost a year and I originally said that was it – but here’s the thing: I’m not ready to come home.
1442 Lantern Drive
Tuckahoe
Westchester, NY
Dear Louisa,
I hope you are well and that the apartment is not proving too troublesome. Frank says the contractors are coming to look round in two weeks – could you be there to let them in? We’ll give you the firm details nearer the time.
Margot isn’t up to writing too much these days – she finds a lot of things tiring and those drugs do make her a little woozy – but I thought you’d like to know that she is being well cared for. We have decided, despite everything, we cannot bear to move her into the home so she will stay with us, with some help from the very kind medical staff. She still has plenty to say to Frank and me, oh, yes! She has us running round like headless chickens most days! I don’t mind. I quite like having someone to look after, and on her good days it’s lovely hearing all the stories of when Frank was a boy. I think he likes hearing them too, even though he won’t admit as much. Two peas in a pod, those two!
Margot asked me to ask you would you mind sending another picture of the dog? She did so like the other one you sent. Frank has put it in a lovely silver frame beside her bed and I know it is a great comfort to her as she spends so much time resting now. I can’t say I find the little fellow quite as pleasing to look at as she plainly does, but each to her own.
She sends you her love and says she hopes you’re still wearing those gorgeous stripy pantyhose. I’m not sure if that’s the pharmaceuticals talking, but I know she means well!
With warmest wishes,
Laynie G. Weber
‘Did you hear?’
I was headed out with Dean Martin to work. Summer had begun to assert its presence forcefully, every day warmer and more humid, so that the short walk to the subway left my shirt stuck to my lower back, and delivery boys exposed pale, sunburnt flesh on their bikes and swore at jaywalking tourists. But I was wearing my 1960s psychedelic dress that Sam had bought me and a pair of cork wedge shoes with pink flowers over the strap, and after the winter I’d had, the sun on my arms was like a balm.
‘Did I hear what?’
‘The library! It’s been saved! Its future has been secured for the next ten years!’ Ashok thrust his phone at me. I stopped on the carpet and lifted my sunglasses to read the text message from Meena. ‘I can’t believe it. An anonymous donation in honour of some dead guy. The – hang on, I got it here.’ He scanned the message with a finger. ‘The William Traynor Memorial Library. But who cares who it is! Funding for ten years, Louisa! And the city council has agreed! Ten years! Oh, man. Meena is over the moon. She was so sure we’d lost it.’
I peered at the phone then handed it back to him. ‘It’s a nice thing, right?’
‘It’s amazing! Who knew, Louisa? Huh? Who knew? One for the little people. Ohhh, yes!’ Ashok’s smile was enormous.
I felt something rise inside me then, a feeling of joy and anticipation so great that it seemed as if the world had briefly stopped turning, like there was just me and the universe and a million good things that could happen if you only hung on in there.
I looked down at Dean Martin, then back at the lobby. I waved to Ashok, adjusted my sunglasses and set off down Fifth Avenue, my own smile growing wider with every step.
I had only asked for five.
32
So, I guess at some point we have to talk about the fact that your year is nearly up. Do you have a date in mind to come home? I’m guessing you can’t stay in the old woman’s place for ever.
I’ve been thinking about your dress agency – Lou, you could use my house as a base if you wanted, got a lot of spare room here, completely free. If you fancied it, you could stay too.
If you think it’s too soon for that but you don’t want to disrupt your sister’s life by moving back to the flat, you could have the railway carriage? This is not my preferred option, by the way, but you always loved it and there is something quite appealing in the thought of having you just across the garden …
There is, of course, another option, which is that this is all too much and you don’t want anything to do with me, but I don’t much like that one. It’s a crappy option. I hope you think so too.
Thoughts?
Sam x
PS Picked up a couple who had been married fifty-six years tonight. He had breathing difficulties – nothing too serious – and she wouldn’t let go of his hand. Fussed over him until they got to hospital. I don’t usually notice these things but tonight? I don’t know.
I miss you, Louisa Clark.
I walked the length of Fifth Avenue, with its clogged artery of traffic and its brightly coloured tourists blocking the sidewalks, and I thought how lucky you might be to find not one but two extraordinary men to love – and what a fluke it was if they happened to love you back. I thought about how you’re shaped so much by the people who surround you, and how careful you have to be in choosing them for this exact reason, and then I thought, despite all that, in the end maybe you have to lose them all in order to truly find yourself.
I thought about Sam and a couple who had been married for fifty-six years, whom I would never meet, and his name in my head became the drumbeat of my footfall as I walked past the Rockefeller Plaza, past the gaudy glitz of Trump Tower, past St Patrick’s, past the huge glowing Uniqlo, with its dazzling pixellated screens, past Bryant Park, the vast and ornate New York Public Library with its vigilant masonry lions, the shops, the hoardings, the tourists, the street vendors and rough sleepers – all the daily features of a life I loved in a city that he didn’t inhabit, and yet, above the noise and the sirens and the blare of the horns, I realised he was there at every step.
Sam.
Sam.
Sam.
And then I thought about how it would feel to go home.
28 October 2006
Mum,
In haste, but I’m coming back to England! I got the job with Rupe’s firm, so I’ll be handing in my notice tomorrow and no doubt headed out of the office with my belongings in a box minutes later – these Wall Street firms don’t like to hang on to people out here if they think you might plunder the client lists.
So, come the New Year, I’ll be executive director in Mergers and Acquisitions back in London. Really looking forward to a new challenge. Thought I’d take a little break first – might do that month-long Patagonian trek I’ve been going on about – and then I’ll have to find somewhere to live. If you get the chance, could you sign me up with some estate agents? Usual postcodes, very central, two/three beds. Underground parking for the bike if possible (yes, I know you hate me using it).
Oh, and you’ll like this. I met someone. Alicia Deware. She’s actually English but she was out here visiting friends and I met her at a bloody awful dinner and we went out a few times before she had to head back to Notting Hill. Proper dating, not the New York kind. Early days but she’s good fun. I’ll be seeing a bit of her when I come back. Don’t go looking at wedding hats just yet, though. You know me.
So that’s it! Give my love to Dad – tell him I’ll be buying him a pint or two at the Royal Oak very soon.
To new beginnings, eh?
With love, your son
Will x
I read and reread Will’s letter, with its hints of a parallel universe, and what-might-have-been landed gently around me like falling snow. I read between the lines at the future that could have been his and Alicia’s – or even his and mine. More than once William John Traynor had pushed the course of my life off its predetermined rails – not with a nudge but with an emphatic shove. By sending me his correspondence, Camilla Traynor had inadvertently ensured he did it again.
To new beginnings, eh?
I read his words once more, then folded the letter carefully back with the others and sat, thinking. Then I poured myself the last of Margot’s vermouth, stared into space for a bit, sighed, walked to the front door with my laptop, sat on the floor and wrote:
Dear Sam,
I’m not ready.
I know it’s been almost a year and I originally said that was it – but here’s the thing: I’m not ready to come home.
