Page 3 of We Used To Be Magic

‘It’s an engagement party, Ezra. Were you expecting balloons and a clown?’

‘Let’s head downtown. We haven’t hung out properly in ages.’

‘We’re staying. At least until the toasts are done.’

‘Toasts? Are you making one?’

‘As much as I love to share personal anecdotes in front of large crowds, I thought I’d let Dad take the wheel on this one,’ she says dryly. ‘Have you two spoken tonight?’

‘Briefly. He stared at my nose and concluded with the deeply ominous suggestion that we have a “proper chat” later.’

‘Ah.’

I frown. A single syllable and yet it sounds unnervingly matter-of-fact. Like she knows something I don’t.

‘Ah?’ I echo.

Caroline looks at me sideways, unsmiling. ‘He’s going to try and give you a job, obviously. You’ve been dicking around for months, now – I’m only surprised that he hasn’t tried to wrangle you into the office sooner.’

‘Fuck,’ I mutter, realising that she’s right. ‘Fuck.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Well – I’ll just have to think of some excuse, won’t I? Tell him that I have a debilitating phobia of photocopiers.’

‘Except it’s not an entirely terrible idea, is it?’

‘You’re joking.’

‘I think a job might be good for you. Don’t you get bored, doing nothing all day?’

‘I don’t donothing.’ I retort. ‘I read. Watch movies. Walk around the city.’

‘All day?’

‘It was good enough for Greta Garbo.’

‘Touché. Just don’t think you won’t get cut off eventually.’

‘You want to bet?’

‘Nah. I’d feel bad, taking your pocket money.’

I snort. Caroline turns to face me properly, leaning back against the railing.

‘Listen,’ she says seriously. ‘They’re always hiring at the restaurant. If I say the word, Romy could get you a job as a busboy.’

‘A what?’

‘A waiter, basically.’

‘Right.’ I nod. It always throws me when Caroline and Maggie use Americanisms. They’ve both retained their English accents, more or less, but I sometimes wonder if they stillfeelEnglish. Caroline was about twelve when we left. Maggie was fourteen. I was seven, and remember the least. But I went back – wassentback, thanks to Dad’s ‘well-meaning’ intercession. And they stayed here.

‘It’s hard work,’ Caroline continues. ‘There’s no way it’ll buy you anything even close to independence. But showing a little initiative might get Dad off your back.’

‘Might make for a good chapter in my memoirs, too. Help humanise me a little.’

‘Is that a yes?’

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