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‘We are your family, Alice. The people who put a roof over your head.’
I had heard enough and my baby was screaming. I walked upstairs and found Cady in her basket. I picked her up and held her to my chest. It surprised me every time I held her how tiny her head, her toes, her fingers were. How delicate she was. She was everything. And I would be everything for her.
I kissed her cheeks and swayed with her in my arms until her body relaxed and her tears disappeared.
‘Brooks.’
I turned to see Alice, tears streaking her face, her eyes red and swollen. She still looked beautiful.
‘I love you,’ I told her because I had nothing else to say. Her parents were right. I was a mechanic and didn’t even earn minimum wage.
She sniffed. ‘I love you too.’
‘I’ll show them, you know. I will. I’ll make something better for us, Alice. I promise.’
She crossed the room and put one hand on my head, the other on Cady’s back. ‘I know, Brooks. I know.’ She dropped her cheek to my shoulder and we stood like that for what seemed like hours. Perfect. My family.
The next day, Alice broke up with me.
The wind rises from the Hudson in gusts. It hits my eyes over and over again, until they start to water. I can’t do it again.
32
BROOKS
Day 14
I hate wearing suits. Men like Drew and Marty look good in suits.
They own the look. I, on the other hand, look like the Michelin Man being squeezed into fine fabrics. I own two suits. One I wore to my grandfather’s funeral when I was twenty-four, with skinny shoulders and about forty pounds lighter than I am now. The other is the one I’m wearing now: a suit Drew convinced me to splurge on for a networking event we went to last year. He told me it was an investment, which was why I eventually caved. This is appearance number two for the dark-blue two-piece.
I fight with my tie in the mirror, with one eye on YouTube and a video that’s instructing me how to tie a Windsor knot. Once I’m finally suited and I’ve run product through my hair – enough to look like I’ve made an effort, not enough to make me look like Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jay Gatsby – I shine my shoes and get set to leave.
When I receive a message telling me the car sent by AMTV is downstairs, I close my apartment door, really wishing I could spend the morning at the gym rather than a television studio.
The door to Izzy’s apartment is ajar, as if someone exited and intentionally left it open so they could reenter.
‘You don’t know anything about him,’ I hear Izzy say.
The voice that replies is stuffy, with overpronounced vowels and drawn-out consonants.
‘I know that our friends and family have seen your blog. You’ve made your point, Isabella. You’ve flaunted a relationship with a man I could never approve of. Imagine what the ladies at the Savoy will think. The man is covered in tattoos. He’s a weightlifter, for crying out loud.’
‘He’s a fitness instructor and he owns his own gym,’ Izzy fires back, her words sharp, almost a shout.
‘A fitness instructor, then. It’s hardly a life I want for my daughter.’
‘How can you say that?I’ma fitness instructor.’
‘Oh, please, we all know what this is, Isabella. You wanted to show your father and me that you can do something on your own. You’ve done it now. The silliness ends here.’
‘Silliness? This is my career.’
‘No, darling, it’s a flirt with dancing and a few recipes. Do you intend to write another book about breakfast shakes and salads? How long do you expect to salsa yourself to a size whatever? You never stick to anything. It’s time for you to grow up and do something constructive with your life. Having some kind of public fling with that man is not a step in the right direction.’
‘That man has a name.’
‘I don’t care to learn it. You can do your show. Then you will fly home with your father and me and we will get your life back on track. You have a very good degree in English Literature. We are well connected. If you want to write books, write something worthy of being read.’
