My attempt to put distance between Beth and my brother had been because I suspected her of using him as a helping hand around the hotel while she was having a staffing crisis at Christmas.
Losing Mum had been a shock to us all, but he’d been with her when it happened, tried to get her to the hospital as she went downhill to the point where he’d performed CPR on her. It had been traumatic, and he’d shut himself off from us, taking on extra work — which for a co-pilot, meant flying all over the world. I hadn’t wanted him to go through any more pain. Getting him to come back to the country and spend Christmas with us had been hard enough, I hadn’t been able to face him disappearing again.
But of course, my actions had nearly made that happen anyway. I’d been wrong and Nick was rightly angry with me. Beth wasn’t using him at all – they had genuine feelings for each other, and she was good for him. Half a year on, they were still together and he was doing so much better, no thanks to me.
And somehow, despite my meddling, things were fine between us all, for the most part. Nick and Beth were far more forgiving than I was in general so after an awkward couple of months, we’d found our common ground. Elle didn’t seem like she wanted to let bygones be bygones though, which was interesting since I hadn’t done anything toher. Perhaps she was just that fierce a friend? Or maybe she knew that Beth was still secretly holding onto a grudge more firmly than it appeared?
I shook my head and got out of bed, pulling my running gear on straight away. There wasn’t much I could do about it if Beth felt that way. It was sad to think there might always be this bad blood between us, if she and Nick were in it for the long-haul, but I’d made a choice to interfere and I had to live with the consequences.
But as far as things went with Elle, if I didn’t bump into her again all summer that was fine by me. Last night had been perfect to clear the air, to make sure she wasn’t left with the impression I was crying into my cocktails over her deception and I was happy to leave it that way.
The day was only just starting to heat up. The smell of the river and of rubbish waiting in bags to be collected from the dumpsters was a ripe tang in the air, but as I headed away from the water and towards the shops, it faded, replaced by the enticing scents of bakeries and coffee shops. There were a lot of joggers out at this time since leaving running any later was courting a trip to the emergency room with sunstroke.
I took the route straight across the financial district and slowed my jog to a walk as I passed the One World Trade Centre and the 9/11 memorial. Before I went to the Whole Foods Market around the corner, I sat down in the glade so I could catch my breath – the stone slabs were cool, shaded by the white oak trees that had been planted all across the site. Even with the new building there, the large expanse of blue sky where those iconic towers used to be was conspicuous in the built up area, the rush of the enormous fountains in the background.
I’d been at primary school when the attack happened. That evening Mum and David spent all night watching the footage on the TV. My main memory was of keeping Nick busy playing in the other room, just catching the odd image through the doorway of the towers falling on repeat…peoplefalling and clouds of ash. Nick was far too young to understand what had happened — I’d barely understood — but I knew he wouldn’t like seeing Mum cry. Wouldn’t understand that the tears were not a sign she was broken, just that she was in pain.
Between my father leaving, my maternal nan passing not long after, and then David, dying in a car crash when I was ten, she’d had far too much pain in her life. Too much taken from her.
Sitting here only brought it home more: how life could be snuffed out so quickly. A truck could plough into me the moment I stepped back out on the road. Something could go wrong with Nick’s plane. A shiver crawled down my spine at the thought, even more chilling because of being at Ground Zero. He was most likely in the sky now, working. I shook the thought off.
I paid a visit to the survivor tree before I went on to the market, then walked back towards my apartment once I’d grabbed my groceries, a brown paper bag full of chicken, fish, pasta, fruit and vegetables in my arms.
There was a small bagel shop near my block, and I ducked in quickly to grab some breakfast. Eliana, the lady who owned the place and was often behind the counter recognised me now and fetched my usual whole-wheat onion bialy to eat on the go, before I could even order it.
‘Did you watch this week’s episode?’ she asked, not bothering with a greeting. ‘Cynthia just found out that Beau was lying about what he was doing when he didn’t make it to the party!’
‘What was he doing?’ I shook my head. ‘No, actually, don’t tell me. I’m going to catch up on it later.’
On the first day I’d come into the shop, she’d clocked I was English and proceeded to tell me about every reality TV show set in the UK that she’d binge-watched. She’d been looking for a new one, and I recommended Above Board, which was based in a swanky hotel in London. I’d only got into it because Beth had been rage-watching it and it had been fun to see how wound up she got at the creative license, while also still being sucked in by the “storylines”. Now, somehow, I was independently watching the show and gossiping about it with Beth and Eliana; dissecting relationship dynamics with two women in vastly different age-groups but who held very similar opinions about who was terrible and who was misunderstood.
‘Stephen, my darling, be prepared. And then you must come back in.’ She handed me the paper bag with my usual inside. ‘I have to get it off my chest about how awful Trudy is and the latest thing…you will not believe it!’
‘I don’t know. I’d believe anything of Trudy.’ I smiled, enjoying how seriously she nodded at that.
‘That is true.’ She sighed as another customer came in, looking to be served. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Definitely,’ I agreed, even though it hadn’t been a question, and handed her a five dollar bill. ‘Keep the change,’ I told her, backing away before she could argue with me about it.
I found out that she’d sneaked an extra bialy in the bag when I left the shop though. It was warm and soft, melting in my mouth as I ate it on the way home, the cooked onions sweet. I loved London, but New York had its charms. I imagined I’d miss it when I went back at the end of the summer.
Once I unpacked my shopping and showered, I grabbed some orange juice and settled down at the table to check my emails. I had a bunch of key account documents that Georgina and Patrick had sent me after I left the office yesterday. I’d have to read those through by Monday, along with keeping up with the usual news and economic journals, but for now, I had another job to do. All this thinking about how short life was had made me more determined. I needed to find my father, fulfil Mum’s wishes and then leave anything to do with him behind me.
I winced around a sip of bitter juice and opened Facebook, typing ‘Trevor Moorcroft’ into the search field. I didn’t expect there to be many – Moorcroft was not that common a name. Age should narrow it down further; I might be able to send him a message within minutes.
I just needed to hit return.
Time to do it.
Here goes—
A list of profiles immediately appeared. As I scanned through quickly to see if any of the photos caught my eye, I realised I could discount eight of them. They were either variations of his name or completely different. That left me with four. Two were too young. One a different race. And the last one…I wasn’t sure.
This Trevor was here in the US, but in Florida rather than New York. I clicked on the profile picture and squinted at it. Nothing in the man’s face looked remotely familiar, but why should it? I was older now than Trevor had been when he and my mum had me. By adecadegive or take a few years. That was a very strange thought.
Without sending him a message or a friend request, how was I going to get any more information about him to try and move this forward? I didn’t exactly want to open with: ‘Hi – I’m searching for my father and wondered if you happen to be him?’ Everything else on his profile was private.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I scrubbed my hands back through my hair. Bloody nerves were getting the better of me again. Shaking it off, I reached for my phone and my eyebrows rose at the name on the screen.
