he nodded, wiping my tears away with his thumb and leaning in to kiss me. His tears left new slippery tracks down my cheeks. ‘I think you should do what you want to do, what you really want to do. Look, I’m going to go, but I’ll call you. Or you call me when you’ve talked to Jenny?’
I nodded, not wanting to let go of his hand. He wasn’t going to call me. I watched him walk across the courtyard, following him down the street until he was gone.
‘Angela?’ Jenny was the quietest I’d ever known her. She had smudged mascara all around her eyes and her hair was a complete bird’s nest. She looked exactly how I felt. Probably exactly how I looked, actually. ‘Angie?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered as she sat down on the step next to me. ‘I shouldn’t have even mentioned Tyler or anything. I know how much you love Jeff.’
‘Shut up!’ Jenny smiled through a new set of tears. ‘If you don’t stop being so goddamned polite we’re never going to work out as roommates. I absolutely needed to hear what you had to say. Jeff can’t forgive me because I can’t forgive myself, that’s hardly your fault. I should never ever have said any of the things I said to you. And I never meant to say anything to Alex about Tyler, it just all came out at once. I told him he was the one. I would totally understand if you couldn’t forgive me.’
‘Don’t, please just don’t even,’ I said, resting my head on her shoulder. ‘But I think you’re the one that’s been too polite. If you’d just given me a verbal thrashing the first time we’d met, I might never have been in this mess.’
‘So you’re coming home?’ Jenny asked, taking my hand and standing up. Her hands were smaller and softer than Alex’s, but they were just as strong.
‘I’ve been offered a job back in London, Jenny,’ I said soberly. ‘I should just take it, Jenny.’
‘Seriously?’ She sat back down. ‘You would just leave?’
‘It’s the sensible thing to do,’ I nodded. ‘It seems like the logical thing. It’s a great job.’
‘You know whatever you want to do, you’re stuck with me now, right?’ Jenny said. ‘You don’t survive two Hurricane Jenny attacks and then get rid of me.’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do without you now,’ I smiled. It was true, I couldn’t imagine her not being in my life. In just three weeks, she was as much a part of me as Louisa.
‘What did Alex say about you leaving?’ she asked.
I tried to smile, to talk, but all I could do was shake my head and let some more tears loose.
Jenny pulled me in close for a tight, long hug. It helped. ‘I don’t think I ate every last crumb of that cheesecake you left in the living room,’ she whispered after a while. ‘Want to go see what’s left?’
I nodded numbly and let her pull me to my feet. Although I managed to stand up, my stomach was still stuck on the step and my heart was so heavy, I thought it might drop out of my chest at any second. Funny how I hadn’t felt this way about Mark, I thought. So this is what it felt like to lose someone.
‘Whatever you decide to do,’ Jenny said, brushing my hair back behind my ears and speaking clearly, as though I might have trouble understanding, ‘it’ll be the right decision, you know that? I didn’t phrase myself too well this morning, but if this confused messy ball of shit is you, then doll, I still think you’re freaking amazing.’
I took her hand and we exited out onto the street. No one stared at us, no one even gave us a second glance. Two weepy girls in last night’s clothes, holding on to each other as if our lives depended on it. If only it was the strangest thing they’d seen on the street that day.
The city was so hot, I started to think New York had frozen the clock until I decided what I was going to do. It was almost nine, and still so light and so unbearably humid, it could have been the middle of the afternoon. But it wasn’t. In the middle of the afternoon I had been sobbing on the steps of MoMA watching Alex walk away from me, and now I was sitting in my windowsill watching Jenny wave up at me on her way to work. It had taken all of my persuasive powers (not something I was renowned for) to convince her I wasn’t going to up and vamoose before she got back, or just throw myself out of the window. At least not without calling her first and giving her a fifteen-minute warning. She’d already skipped out on one shift to come and find me, I didn’t want her to get in any more trouble, but a Ghostbusters/Ghostbusters 2 marathon supplemented with about three pints of Ben & Jerry’s really wouldn’t have gone amiss.
The people below me were literally walking down the street pouring bottles of water over their heads and watching the drops sizzle on the pavement. Even the spire of the Chrysler Building was fuzzed out of focus way up in the heat haze. I was not made for this heat. Or for getting dumped. Or for making many major life-changing decisions in a very short space of time. Next month I was definitely going to try to keep it down to one. Maybe two tops. I really didn’t know what to do. The last few weeks had been amazing, but what was the point in being in New York if it was even harder than being in London?
And how fantastic would it be to go back, to be all super Sex and the City’d up with my fab new wardrobe, my gorgeous handbag and my amazing dream job? I knew in my heart I’d moved on from Mark, I wasn’t afraid of seeing him. Mum and Dad would be, well, they’d like to know where they could find me in case they needed a cat sitter when they went on holiday. And Louisa and I would work everything out. Things would have to be different now. I was different.
‘I’d be completely mad,’ I whispered to myself. ‘If I don’t do this, I’m completely mad.’
I peeled my thighs off the windowsill, leaving several layers of sunburned skin behind, and began the search for my passport. It wasn’t in my (fabulous) handbag and it wasn’t at the back of my bedside drawer. There was only one other place I could think of. Kneeling down, I pulled my travel bag out from under the bed. All that was in there was my passport, my old handbag and a screwed-up hunk of coffee-coloured taffeta.
My bridesmaid’s dress.
I dragged it out into the light and held it up in front of me. Having done nothing but eat for the last three weeks, it looked tiny. For the first time in months, I had no idea what I weighed. Jenny didn’t believe in scales, they had a ‘negative impact on her self-esteem’, and all my new clothes were so fabulously smocky. Couldn’t hurt to try it? Even if going back to London feeling like a porker would take the shine off my triumphant return.
The fabric was cold against my sticky skin and the bodice felt uncomfortable, as if it had been rinsed out with wallpaper paste, but it wasn’t as tight as I had expected. In fact, it wasn’t tight at all. Apparently you can do all the eating as long as you’re doing all the walking around New York and all the shagging of the hot boys. After stumbling over the hem twice and actually going the full length of the room once, I slipped on my Louboutins and teetered over to the mirror, pulled my hair back from my face and held it up into a tight chignon. My eyes were still red and swollen, the dress all scrunched up. It wasn’t a good look, but it was a familiar one. All that was missing was my engagement ring, and I really wouldn’t want to put that on again, given where I had left it.
Jenny had stuck photographs from the last couple of weeks all around my mirror to ‘help me live in the now’. My after photos from Rapture, when Gina had transformed my hair. Me, Jenny and Erin at karaoke. The photo Jenny had snapped of me and Alex at his gig. But the girl in those pictures wasn’t the same
