Miranda Dickinson - I’ll Take New York

What am I saying? Bea considered this, her heart thumping. She didn’t want to be in this argument again. Ever. Slowly, it began to dawn on her.

‘I’m saying …’ she began, picking her words as if tiptoeing across a minefield ‘… I think we’re done. We keep returning to the same problems and I – I just can’t go over it any more. I need to be me again, Otis. Not some paranoid half of a relationship that isn’t going anywhere. I think this is it for us. I’m sorry.’

Otis blinked. This wasn’t how it worked: he made apologetic noises; Bea gave in; serenity was restored. Bea’s response seemed to throw a spanner in the works. Dropping his gaze, he stepped back. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Surprised by the strength of her own conviction, Bea stood tall. ‘It is.’

The silence in the bookshop was louder than the angry lines of traffic on 8th Avenue outside. Bea retreated behind the counter. Otis stared up at the high ceiling as if expecting to find answers to this new situation written there. Outside, the heavy raindrops battered against the bookstore windows and the world beyond them.

‘Then I should go?’ It was more of a question than a statement of intent.

‘We both should.’

Otis began to reply but the crash of the bookstore door snatched his attention. Dripping wet, Russ O’Docherty clutched a fast disintegrating cardboard cup-holder as he struggled to close the door without losing three teetering coffee cups in the process.

‘Sorry I took so long. It’s like Armageddon out there …’ He stopped when he saw their expressions. ‘Oh boy, are you guys not done?’

‘Actually, I was just leaving,’ Otis replied, the lightness of his tone knocking the wind from Bea’s stomach. He helped himself to a coffee cup and turned back to Bea. ‘Call me when you’re ready. Remember I love you.’

Russ watched his friend leave and held out his hands in surprise. ‘What happened?’

Bea slumped in the grandfather armchair beside the counter. ‘I think we broke up.’

Shocked, Russ hurried over and hovered hesitantly by her side. ‘Really? Only he said, “I love you.” Usually guys don’t choose that line when they’re breaking up with someone.’

‘I think I might have broken up with him.’ Tears welled in Bea’s eyes as the frustration of the past week overwhelmed her. ‘The thing is, I don’t think I can do this again, Russ. I’m the laughing stock of my family: the only James to fail at relationships. And I really don’t want this to be all I end up thinking about.’ She looked up at her friend, who took the hint and knelt by her, taking her hand. ‘My business is doing great, the rest of my life is pretty good. I don’t want to be the kind of woman who is ruled by her love life, you know?’

‘You’re not,’ Russ assured her.

‘I feel like I am.’

‘Yeah, well, you’re not and that’s all there is to it. I’ve watched you work so hard to make this place a success, and I know how many people love you, Bea. Most of New York would kill for that kind of résumé. And I don’t think you’re a failure. So here’s one person who isn’t laughing at you.’

Bea shook her head, a small smile breaking free. ‘Thanks.’

‘Otis made a mistake. A big one, I’ll admit. But deep down he does love you: I’m sure of it. I think maybe you should focus on what makes you happy for a while. Maybe when you do that, you’ll be ready to try again.’

Russ’ unquestioning loyalty to his friend would have been touching in any other setting, but today it wasn’t helpful. Irritated, Bea stood and moved away.

‘What if I don’t want to try again? Hmm?’

‘I’m just saying you might …’

‘What is it with you and Otis?’ Bea demanded, knowing this wouldn’t help the situation but compelled to challenge her best friend’s stance. ‘Why must you always defend him?’

Russ rose to his feet and faced her. ‘He’s my friend, Bea. Of course I’ll defend him. But it shouldn’t make a difference whatever I say. You have to decide if you want to be with Otis or not.’

‘Can’t you see what he’s done to me? Don’t you think he was wrong?’

‘Of course I do …’

‘Then why not support me? Does our friendship mean so little to you?’

‘This isn’t about us, Bea, so don’t make out like I don’t support you.’ Russ sighed and took off his black-rimmed glasses to wipe the rain-splattered lenses on the bottom of his vintage rock T-shirt. ‘I’ve supported you for as long as we’ve known each other. You know I have. Sure, I think Otis was out of line when he let you down in front of your family. And yes, I agree, this isn’t the first time you’ve been disappointed. I told him he’s a Class A jerk for not putting you first, actually – not that you’ll believe me. I warned him he’d lose you if he didn’t straighten up his act. But above that, I can’t do a thing to change who he is or any of the decisions he makes.’

Bea stared at him, hating Russ for his logical view of life. It had always been his secret weapon. The worst of it was, it made sense. He wasn’t to blame for Otis’ bad decisions and he was perfectly entitled to be friends with whomever he wanted.

‘It would just be nice to have you on my side,’ she replied, her voice small and vulnerable as she spoke.

‘I don’t take sides, Bea. But I’m not a heartless individual either. You know I care about you and I want you to be happy. Heaven knows you deserve it. Take some time out. Figure out what it is you want and whether Otis can provide it or not. In the meantime, I’m your friend and I’m here for you. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Good.’ He popped his glasses back on. ‘And the rain must’ve made me psychic because I bought you a peppermint mocha.’ He held out a cup, a wry smile returning. ‘Did I make the right choice?’

There was no point arguing any more. And the coffee smelled good. Still convinced she and Otis were over, Bea nodded at Russ. ‘You did good.’

The small silver bell chimed out over his head as Jake walked into his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s florist shop in the pleasantly chic neighbourhood in the Upper West Side. A rush of floral fragrance assaulted his senses from the rainbow-hued display in galvanised steel buckets. Jake loved it here – and completely understood why his brother had chosen to give his skills to the neighbourhood florists’ instead of the high-tech, faceless floral boutiques in New York City. There was a peace about the little store that few other shops in Manhattan had, a sense of timelessness that made even the busiest customer linger.

A pretty, heavily pregnant young woman with shocking pink streaks in her hair screamed from behind the counter and hurried towards him.

‘Jake! Oh, it’s so good to see you, honey!’ Hugging him with her large belly was a challenge but she made an enthusiastic attempt at it.

He laughed, despite being almost knocked off his feet by Rosie’s kooky assistant. ‘Great to see you, Marnie. And look at you! How long till D-Day?’

She pulled a face. ‘Six weeks. I’m kinda hoping it’ll be earlier but my obstetrician told me it might be a week over.’ She rubbed her back. ‘I feel like I’m carrying a moose, not a couple of babies. I blame Zac’s quarterback genes. But anyway, how are you?’

Jake ignored the sinking feeling when he saw Marnie’s smile morph into concern. It was barely a month since his separation from Jessica had become public knowledge and already he dreaded receiving the identical expression from everyone he met. He knew their concern was well meant, but it still made him wince. It was as if somehow the fact his wife had chosen to live her life without him was cause for the whole world to pity him, as if he was less of a man.