Page 32 of We Used To Be Magic

‘I have to ask – she’s not stalking you, is she?’

I snort.

Caroline leans towards me, gaze intent. ‘I’m serious, Ezzy. There’s no way this is a coincidence.’

‘She’s here in spite of me, not because,’ I admit. ‘She used to talk about moving here, after school. I thought that that had more to do with me than the city, but –’

‘Oh, Ezzy.’

‘It was a fantasy,’ I say flatly. ‘Kid stuff.’

‘Well – not on her part, clearly,’ Caroline points out, grimacing slightly. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Suffer, I suppose. And request that you make this coffee Irish.’

‘How about lunch instead?’

‘I’m okay, thanks.’

‘Right, well – I hardly think that day-drinking is going to improve the situation. Especially not on an empty stomach.’

‘Better try it, just to be sure.’

‘Do it yourself, then.’ She sighs. ‘I’m going to put on a movie.’

‘Don’t you need to get back to painting?’

‘Later,’ she says, picking up the remote. So I get up, clutching my cup too tightly and marvelling at how badly this hurts. It’s unbelievable – just when I thought I’d gotten used to the Edie-shaped gap in my life, she reappears. I could turn a corner and run right into her.

I find the whisky without much fuss, top up my coffee and return to the sofa, balancing it on my chest as I incline my head towards the television. Caroline’s putWhen Harry Met Sallyon – my favourite film, though I tell people that it’sVertigo.She knows that.

‘Great choice,’ I say mildly. It’s the closest thing to a thank you that I can muster. Caroline just nods, eyes fixed on the screen – her version ofyou’re welcome.

AUDREY

‘ITHINKI’M DYING,’IGASP,DOUBLING OVER. ‘ICAN TASTEBLOOD.’

‘That’s because there’s pressure on your lungs right now. Your red blood cells are leaking into the air-sacs—’

‘Not helpful,’ I manage, fumbling for my bottle. Marika consults her phone as I gulp down water. She looks immaculate, of course, emanating health in a neon-blue unitard. I don’t think she’s even broken a sweat.

‘We’ve only gone a half-mile,’ she tells me. ‘When you said that you “literally never” exercise, I figured you were being hyperbolic.’

‘Then I wouldn’t have said “literally”.’

‘Noted.’

I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my hoodie, breathing raggedly. When Marika suggested a morning jog in Central Park, I was honestly just happy that she wanted to hang out with me. I did try and warn her that I’m not very fit but she waved it off – optimistically, it seems.

‘Can we walk after this?’ I plead. ‘Just for a little bit?’

‘Fine. But we’re doing this again tomorrow – your stamina is terrible. No wonder you nap all the time.’

‘What’s wrong with napping?’

‘Nothing, if you’re a toddler. Come on.’

And she’s off again. I suck in a breath, start shuffling after her down the wide, sun-dappled path – as gruelling as this outing has been, the beauty of the park isn’t lost on me. It’s too early in the year for autumn colour so the trees are a lush green canopyabove our heads, the morning light filtering through the leaves. It’s hard to believe that all this nature can survive in a city so dense.

---