Manhattan Dreaming, page 27
‘Excuse me, I feel a little faint, can I get out please?’
‘Me too,’ the old lady said.
‘Sorry, ladies, of course.’
I stepped out first and there were couples and families but I couldn’t see another single girl by herself. There were a few guys by themselves, though. I wondered if they were having affairs to remember as well. I walked around the cramped observation deck and didn’t know how it was going to be romantic. I took in the view, looking for what I could recognise – Central Park, 5th Avenue, the Chrysler building, Times Square and the George Washington Bridge. I was entertained by the site of hundreds of yellow cabs moving around town, like little yellow bugs. It was hard to tell from so far up how hectic life was down below in the city. I wanted to get a glimpse into a telescope but I couldn’t stand still long enough, and people were queuing for them anyway.
The space was not how I had imagined it to be. There was a small area outside the lifts so you could stand inside, and then the observation deck. It didn’t look like it did in the movies. And it was cramped like Libby said, not cozy, just cramped. And there was really nowhere to sit or to hide while I waited for Adam. The sun was setting and it was meant to be the best time to be up there, but I couldn’t really focus. I was nervous. What if he didn’t show up? What if he did?
I tried to stand still outside but couldn’t. I tried to enjoy the sunset but couldn’t. I felt sick, but it wasn’t nerves or excitement. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t feel the warm and romantic rush I thought I would standing there.
I waited and I watched people come and go. Two looked like a honeymooning couple in their late twenties. They were perfectly matched in height and had similar features, with smiles that radiated love to all around them. I was inspired just looking at them as they shared a telescope, touching each other affectionately, taking photos of each other. Smiling, laughing, loving. I was envious even before I noticed their wedding bands. They pecked each other on the cheek spontaneously as they walked one length of the deck. I realised I was staring at them and I felt a pain in my heart, knowing they were the couple that Adam and I had never been. We’d never been out like that, enjoying each other in Canberra like a normal couple. Even here in New York he was only interested in sport. He had ignored me all these months and now he was jumping on a plane the minute an offer was made. But then, I knew all along what he wanted. He’d at least been honest on that front. The only liar was me, to myself, believing that things had changed, that he had changed, that we had a future together. I shook my head in disappointment in myself; there I was all dressed up at the top of the Empire State Building waiting for a man I had got over months ago. How had I let him back into my life?
I looked at my watch and Adam was already fifteen minutes late. Then he was half an hour late.
When he was an hour late I decided to leave. I wiped a dignified and disappointed tear from my cheek, took a deep breath and turned around.
I gasped as he walked towards me.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hi.’ I was shaking my head in confusion.
He put his hands on my waist, then around me, pulling me gently towards him. He kissed me softly on the mouth and I was shocked at the electricity between us. It wasn’t what I normally felt. I’d felt lust before, but this was a deeper feeling; it was love and lust and friendship and possibility all in the one kiss. I was surprised at how firmly he held me, as if he wasn’t going to let go, or let anyone cut in, or let me stop him. But I didn’t want to stop him anyway, I wanted more of the kiss, I wanted to feel his arms tight around me, I wanted the kiss to make its way down my body and I never wanted to open my eyes in case I was imagining it. The moment I’d been waiting for was a moment of feeling like I belonged with someone, that they belonged with me, that we belonged together. And his kiss made me feel that.
I didn’t understand, and I couldn’t speak. I was confused and turned on. I could feel a strength in his body that I had never considered before. Every sense was alert. I could hear my own heartbeat and feel his against my chest, I could smell his cologne and I could taste him. His breath was sweet like M&Ms, and I thought of the jar on my desk. I opened my eyes slightly and I could see the reflection of us together in the lift doors behind him.
We walked out of the building and I felt unbalanced, like when Dad would spin me around like an airplane as a kid and it would take me minutes to walk upright again. My world had been knocked off its axis just like that, by Wyatt.
We sat in the familiar surrounds of East of 8, cosied up in a corner with a bottle of champagne. We’d never drunk champagne together – we’d never been so intimate before. It was all foreign territory, exciting and heart-warming at the same time.
‘I don’t understand. How did you know he wouldn’t be there?’ I asked, head dizzy from the kiss and the bubbles and the realisation that I was in love with Wyatt.
‘I had an inkling he wouldn’t show up,’ Wyatt said wisely.
‘You did?’
‘Yes, he’s an idiot.’
‘Because he’s a footballer?’
‘No, because he let you leave Australia in the first place. He doesn’t deserve you. You deserve to be treated with respect and warmth and love.’
‘I thought he might be able to give me that.’
‘He could never give you that. I think in your heart you know that.’
‘Yes.’ I felt embarrassed and stupid. Wyatt placed his hand on mine and I thought how easy it would be to just melt into his dreamy eyes and stay there forever.
‘I can give you that.’ He looked straight into my eyes. ‘I want to give you that.’
‘I’m confused. I still can’t believe we just kissed. God, I feel like an infatuated teenager.’
‘I’ve felt like that since the day we met.’ I watched Wyatt’s mouth move. I’d never noticed his full lips before, they were luscious and I wanted to lick them right there and then. I wanted to kiss him again.
‘You have? You hid it well.’
‘It wasn’t easy …’
I was gobsmacked. My dear friend, Wyatt, not-gay Wyatt, had wanted to kiss me since the day he met me. I must have looked confused.
‘What’s wrong with me, not macho enough for you because I don’t play sports?’
‘Don’t be silly, nothing’s wrong with you. And having just felt your arms around me, you’ve hidden those muscles well until now.’
‘Then what? I’m not rich enough for you? Or tall enough? Come on, Lauren, I know you well enough by now to know you don’t care about those things.’
‘No, Wyatt, I don’t care about those things, it’s just that I –’
‘You what?’ He took his hand off mine.
‘I thought you were … I thought you were … gay.’
Wyatt spat his drink out and laughed hard.
‘Gay? What gave you that idea?’
I wasn’t going to make the same ridiculous statements that Adam had, but I wanted to be honest.
‘Well, you work in the arts and most of the guys back home in the arts are gay.’
‘You work in the arts, and you’re not gay.’
‘I know.’
‘What else then?’ He was enjoying watching me make a fool of myself.
‘You live in Chelsea, which is pretty much a gay hub.’
‘Come on, Lauren, you live in Chelsea. Again, does that make you gay?’
‘You come here a lot and this is a gay bar.’
‘God, Lauren, I come by here because you drink here. I’d never been here until you mentioned it, and I only pop in on the off chance that I can see you outside of work.’
‘What about all those photos of guys on your desk?’
‘Most of them are relatives I’ve got scattered across the continent. You’ve got photos of Libby and Denise and other chicks. I never for a minute thought you were a lesbian.’
‘But you never talk about girls. I’ve never even seen you with a woman. You’re hot, why don’t you date?’
‘I go on dates, but none of them were worth talking about. No-one else stood a chance while I had you in my head and I saw you every day. In a way, I felt like I was the man in your life, except when Cash and Adam were around.’
I was grateful for the hint of jealousy in Wyatt’s voice.
‘But all this time, why haven’t you done anything?’
‘You said you didn’t want a relationship and I could tell you weren’t over Adam. I didn’t want to be a substitute. I sent you the roses on Valentine’s Day, but you didn’t even consider that I might have done it. At least I now know why.’
‘And now? Tonight? Why the Empire State Building?’
‘Because I know your contract is nearly up, and I don’t want you to go back. Or if you do, I want to go with you. I love having you in my life every day. I hated it when you were away for Christmas and hanging out with Cash. But there was nothing I could do, and I didn’t want to try competing with him. He could give you more than I could materially.’
‘I don’t care about material things.’
‘I know, I knew that when you broke up with him. And then Adam turned up and I couldn’t stand it. But I knew that jerk wouldn’t show up tonight, men like him never step up to the plate. To me it was the perfect moment to tell you how I felt. I waited all these months, and I hoped every day and at every function and with every date you went on that you wouldn’t fall in love with someone else.’
‘You waited for me?’
‘I waited, yes. Didn’t you know that love needs faith? I thought that maybe you could eventually love me back.’
‘I think I already do.’
‘I have something for you.’ He passed me a little box. ‘Open it.’
Inside was an elegant hand-sculpted clay cherry blossom pendant with freshwater pearls linked together by fine gold wire. It dangled from a black cord. It matched the earrings Wyatt had given me for my birthday. I took my ‘Love needs faith’ heart pendant off and replaced it with my new cherry blossom piece.
‘I think I need to talk to Maria about extending my fellowship.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Manhattan Dreaming would not have been possible without the assistance of staff from the National Museum of the American Indian at the Smithsonian in New York City. They gave of their time not only in showing me their cultural workspace, but in reading drafts as well. Lauren and I remain forever grateful.
For ‘on location’ research and help on the ground in New York, I need to thank Vanessa Rodd, Matt and Nicole Astill, Matilde Busana and Bronwyn Guthrie, Soni Moreno, Loida Garcia-Febo, Roberto Mukaro Borrero, Lily Brett and David Rankin. In fact, the title of this book is a variation of a suggestion by David, who said over the phone, ‘You should write Downtown Dreaming.’ And I thought, ‘Yes, I should!’
Special thanks also to the countless number of Manhattan men who smiled at Lauren and me in the street, enquired as to our marital status, asked for our numbers and offered to buy us dinner, drinks and coffee. Twenty years of self-esteem work done in four weeks is worthy of documenting in a book.
For ‘on location’ research in Canberra, massive thanks to Kirsten Bartlett, Rachel Clarke and Carol Williams. If only the fellas in our capital were as assertive as those in Manhattan I could thank them also. Alas, no credit necessary here.
To the professional women who guide my career and sit and talk as friends also: Geraldine Star (my life coach), Tara Wynne and Pippa Masson (Curtis Brown), Larissa Edwards and Elizabeth Cowell (Random House) – thank you for always seeking the best for me. And thanks to Nicola O’Shea for her structural work on an early draft.
To the three deadly women who support me on a daily basis: my mum, Terri Janke and Robynne Quiggin – I can’t imagine what my day would be like without your love, laughter and storytelling. Speaking of which, to the one who should write her own book, Bernardine Knorr – if you don’t document that material I will appropriate it for my own work. Your stories are GOLD!
Writing this novel involved brainstorming on Facebook for character names and song titles and so I’d like to thank all those whose suggestions I used: Kevin and Warren, Kim Merritt, Sally Murphy, Bill Chant, Katie Shortland and Vanessa Raine. For relevant songs related to Adam Fullofhimself, thanks to: Judith Ridge, Rhonda Jacobson, Lauren Dower, Georgina Nash and Emma Joel.
For tips here and there, thanks to Denise Muravolgyi, Michael McDaniel and Cathy Craigie, and to all the individual Indigenous artists who gave feedback on certain aspects of the novel.
This book is about relationships, but it’s also a tribute to the strong Aboriginal women working in the arts around Australia. You inspire me daily.
Finally, I wake every morning and count my blessings for the enormously supportive family I have. Without them, my characters and I wouldn’t be able to dream at all.
Not Meeting Mr Right
Anita Heiss
Alice Aigner is successful, independent and a confirmed serial dater – but at her ten-year school reunion she has a sudden change of heart. Bored rigid by her ‘married, mortgaged and motherly’ former classmates, Alice decides to prove that a woman can have it all: a man, marriage, career, kids and a mind of her own.
She sets herself a goal: meet the perfect man and marry him before her thirtieth birthday, just under two years away. Together with her best friends Dannie, Liza and Peta, Alice draws up a ten-point plan. Then, with a little help from her mum, her dad, her brothers, her colleagues and her neighbour across the hall, she sets out to find Mr Right. Unfortunately for Alice, it’s not quite as easy as she imagines …
‘Sassy, intelligent, strong, independent and brilliantly funny’ –
Deborah Mailman
Avoiding Mr Right
Anita Heiss
Peta Tully has found her Mr Right … the only trouble is, she’s not sure she’s ready to settle down. Not just yet, anyway – so when she’s offered a twelve-month contract interstate that just might win her the job of her dreams, she puts her Sydney life on hold, packs her bags and jumps on a plane, leaving her doting boyfriend behind.
Peta takes a voluntary vow of celibacy, but sticking to it proves to be rather hard …
This is Anita Heiss’s second book about Peta, Alice, Liza and Dannie, four deadly thirty-something chicks from Sydney’s eastern beaches.
Paris Dreaming
Anita Heiss
‘I’m telling you now: I’m never having another boyfriend – EVER!’
Libby is on a man-fast: no more romance, no more cheating men, no more heartbreak. After all, she has her three best girlfriends and two cats to keep her company at night and her high-powered job at the National Aboriginal Gallery in Canberra to occupy her day – isn’t that enough?
But when fate takes Libby to work in Paris at the Musée du Quai Branly, she’s thrown out of her comfort zone and into a city full of culture, fashion and love. Surrounded by thousands of attentive men, nude poets, flirtatious baristas and smooth-tongued lotharios, romance has suddenly become a lot more tempting.
On top of it all, there’s a chauvinist colleague at the Musée who challenges Libby’s professional ability and diplomatic skills. Then there’s Libby’s new friend Sorina, a young Roma gypsy desperate to escape deportation. Libby must protect her work record and her friend, but can she protect herself from a broken heart?
Anita Heiss, Manhattan Dreaming
