by Ella Grey
Very wrong.
“Peter, look,” she cried, getting up from her seat. “Are you OK?” she asked the girl feeling stupid, as it was pretty obvious she was far from OK. But then she realised that she wasn’t choking – in fact the girl seemed to be having some kind of … seizure.
Before she knew it, Peter cleared a space behind them and swiftly placed the girl in the recovery position on the floor. At this stage, people had begun to gather and stare and soon was clear that lying her on her side was making little if any difference, and she was still desperate for breath.
“Call an ambulance or something,” Olivia called out to one of the counter staff, standing shell-shocked along with everyone else – the students and staff of the café unused to such drama.
“Damn,” Peter looked around wildly, trying to discover the root of the problem. He grabbed her wrist. “Her pulse is going ten to the dozen. Quick, check her handbag, see if there’s an asthma inhaler or something in there.”
Spying the bag under the table, Olivia realised that this must have been what she was trying to reach earlier. Moving as quickly as she could and trying to control her own rising panic, she emptied the bag’s contents onto the table. Hairbrush, wallet, make-up, a pen and notebook, some lip-balm, lots of old bus tickets … but nothing resembling an inhaler.
“Peter, there’s nothing here,” she cried, panicked. On the floor the girl was still struggling.
“There has to be something,” Peter grunted, panicked too. He stood up and started frantically checking through the contents, going through her books, as if there might be something written down. Then he paused suddenly. “Damn.”
“What, what is it?” Olivia demanded, and frowned as Peter’s gaze rested now on the remains of the girl’s lunch – a barely-touched chicken bap. “Food poisoning?” she offered hurriedly.
“A reaction, I think,” Peter was again urgently searching through the girl’s things.
“Reaction? To what?”
“Not sure yet, but this should help,” he said, immediately seizing what she had earlier dismissed as an oversized ink pen.
Lying on her side on the floor, her eyes wide, the girl was now gesturing furiously, pointing at her leg.
And then, before Olivia could take in what was happening, Peter had broken open the packaging and was back on the ground alongside her. He shook the syringe and squirted a little liquid out in a way that she had seen millions of times on TV.
Then he sat the girl up and carefully placed the syringe in her hand, helping her guide it towards her calf. Then, and Olivia didn’t know how he did this but somehow – under the girl’s panicked direction – Peter began to crudely administer the shot.
After what seemed like an age, the girl stopped shaking and within a few minutes her colour had returned to normal.
Panic over.
“What was it?” Olivia asked Peter later, once the ambulance arrived from nearby St Vincent’s, and the girl was safely loaded into it.
Still shaken from the drama of it all, the two had forgone the remaining afternoon’s lectures and had stayed in the cafeteria. “In the syringe?”
“Adrenaline,” Peter stated flatly. “She was allergic to something in that sandwich. Had a serious reaction and began to go into shock – anaphylactic shock, the paramedic said.”
“Anaphylactic shock from an ordinary chicken bap?” Olivia couldn’t believe that something so innocuous could have such an effect.
“They reckon that if she hadn’t got the shot in time, she would gone into a coma,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe even died.”
“Wow,” Olivia said, her eyes widening. She put down her coffee cup and lovingly squeezed her boyfriend’s arm. “You’re a proper hero.”
8
A week later, the girl was waiting for Olivia outside one of her lectures.
“Hi there,” she said, recognising her immediately. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, thanks to you and um …” the girl looked around, as if expecting to see Peter. She seemed shy, Olivia thought.
“Oh, it was all down to Peter,” she said easily. “I hadn’t a clue what to do. I’m just glad you’re OK.”
The girl smiled, as if unsure what to say.
Olivia looked at her watch. “Listen, I don’t have another lecture till two – do you have time for a coffee?” When the girl looked startled, she grimaced. “Oh, sorry – can you drink coffee?”
The girl’s nervous expression finally broke into a smile, and she fell into step beside her.
“No, I can drink coffee – it’s just a few things I have to be careful with.”
“Really? Like what?” Olivia was fascinated. Imagine having to live your life not knowing whether something you eat could kill you. How did she manage? “Oh, I’m Olivia, by the way,” she said, realising that she didn’t yet know the girl’s name.
“Robin.” She smiled softly. “And I suppose I just wanted to thank you and your friend for helping me the other day. If you hadn’t found my Epipen …” She trailed off as they reached the cafeteria.
“So, what can I get you?” Olivia asked as they stood at the counter. “Tea, coffee … and oh, good, they have those chocolate brownies back in again – want one?”
Robin looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, chocolate is a big no-no,” she said, apologetically. “Anything with traces of nuts in it is a big no-no.”
The poor thing, Olivia thought, trying to imagine not being able to eat chocolate of all things. No wonder she was so shy – she was probably used to being made feel like the odd one out.
“Probably better off,” she said with a grimace, putting the brownie back on the shelf and, in an attempt to relax Robin a little added, “No wonder you’re so slim.”
“Not by choice, unfortunately.” She gave a little laugh, and Olivia delighted in the small achievement.
They took a table near the window where they could look out at the comings and goings in the Arts Building.
“Gosh, really how do you do it?” Olivia chatted. “I can’t imagine not being able to eat chocolate.”
“You don’t really miss what you’ve never had I suppose. You can get special nut-free stuff, but I’m not that bothered.”
“So how does that adrenaline thingy work then?”
“The shot takes you out of an attack. It’s easy enough to use normally, but I was so far gone the other day that I needed help. It’s a lifeline, really.”
“A lifeline,” Olivia repeated. “So, you really could have died?”
“I was heading for unconsciousness, definitely. After that, who knows?” She shook her head. “It’s been a while actually. I thought I’d learned to control it. But I think it’s the kind of thing you can never fully control – you just have to live with it.”
“I can’t even imagine what it must be like. Like every day could be … well, you just never know. Sorry,” Olivia muttered, shaking her head, “I don’t mean to sound morbid.”
“I get you,” Robin said, laughing now, “but it’s been a part of my life forever, so I don’t know what it’s like to be ‘normal’. You do learn to live with it. It’s harder on parents – my own mother had a really terrible time with me. I don’t think she had a day’s peace once I started school.” Then she grimaced slightly. “Sorry, I’ve just remembered I hardly know you and I’m already boring the face off you.”
“Not at all,” Olivia said smiling. “I think it’s fascinating, and Peter will be dying to hear every detail. He’s a med student so … Tell you what – why don’t you pop over for dinner later?” Then she paused. “Now I’m a very plain cook, so I could make anything you like …”
Robin laughed. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to put you out. Cook what you like and I’ll just bring a snack.”
Olivia didn’t push it.
“Great, and I know Peter would love nothing better to meet the girl who’s life he saved. ”
9
“I have a surprise for you,” Ben said
, his eyes mischievous as he led Robin along Lexington.
“What kind of surprise?” Knowing him, he most likely wanted to go and do something tacky and touristy she thought fondly.
The two had met shortly after he moved to Manhattan, and in the very early days Ben was like a child in a sweetshop, eager to experience all that this magnificent city had to offer.
Robin was a million miles away from being jaded – in New York she didn’t think it could happen – but at that stage having lived in the city for a couple of years she’d already done most of the touristy things.
At the time she hadn’t intended on meeting anyone. Still feeling the effects of a particularly disastrous fling, the very last thing on her mind was meeting someone else, least of all another Irishman and certainly not at a New York society wedding.
Robin’s close friend and workmate was marrying her high-school boyfriend, a lovely, gentle – and loaded – New Yorker. She was thrilled when she discovered that they planned to hold their wedding in the Plaza Hotel. If there was one place in New York that held special memories for Robin, it was the Plaza.
Many years before, on her very first visit to the city, she and her American cousin Fiona had sneaked into the foyer while the doorman was helping one of the hotel guests out of a limo.
Robin still remembered her absolute awe at stepping inside the luxurious hotel for the very first time. Home Alone 2 was one of her favourite Christmas movies and as this particular visit occurred over the holidays, it seemed as though she was reliving parts of the film herself. Earlier that day, she and Fiona had fed squirrels in Central Park, gasped in appreciation at the toys in FAO Schwartz, admired the skating rink at the Rockefeller Centre and then, to complete the most memorable Christmas Eve she had ever experienced, stood open-mouthed in wonder at the twinkling tree in the Plaza foyer.
The hotel’s famous crystal chandelier almost paled in comparison to the magical, fairytale-like spruce standing majestically beneath it. Right there, staring at the tree’s sparkling decorations, Robin’s love affair with New York truly began – which was why the Plaza was one of her favourite spots.
And on Anna and Burton’s wedding day, the hotel didn’t disappoint. She had decided to wear an understated but sexy Robert Cavalli mini-dress for the occasion, and in such sumptuous surroundings, felt almost justified in blowing most of the previous month’s wages on a delicate wisp of jade-coloured silk.
Her lack of funds for groceries as a result of her splurge had done no harm in helping her fit into it either, she thought wryly. She hoped that as one of Anna’s pauper friends she would be able to hold her own in the fashion stakes alongside Burton’s megabucks relations.
Making an impression was of the utmost importance in Manhattan, but never more so than at a society wedding.
And speaking of impressions, she thought as she sat down, a cute guy with the warm chocolate-brown eyes sitting across from her at the table was definitely making one on her. He was sitting alongside Robin’s date Gary, another work colleague and had caught her eye on a number of occasions already.
Despite herself, and unused to such obvious flirtation – especially in this town – she had to smile.
Just then, Gary looked across at her. “Hey, you two might know each other. Ireland’s a small town, isn’t it?”
“Sure, we’re probably related,” the other man said, in an exaggerated ‘oirish’ accent. “Begorrah, you look terrible like my cousin Eileen Dooley, so you do.” With this he gave her an almost imperceptible wink.
Robin’s eyes widened in mock-surprise. “Not Eileen Dooley from Letterkenny?” she gasped. “Sure I’m only her second cousin twice removed.”
“Go ‘way out of that,” he replied laying it on thick. “Jaysus, ‘tis a terrible small world all the same, so it is.”
“Wow.” Gary sat back, impressed. “It really is a small world. I’ve never travelled further than New Jersey but you Irish get everywhere, don’t you?”
Robin and her ‘cousin’ exchanged an impish smile.
“Hey, why don’t I let you two catch up,” her workmate said, sensing that he would have little to contribute to the conversation between two long-lost Irish relations.
“Aye.”
As Gary moved away, and Robin raised an eyebrow. “I think ‘aye’ might be Scottish…” she intoned amusedly.
“Scottish, Irish – it all sounds the same to the yanks.” He shrugged and Robin couldn’t help but wonder if those Tom Cruise teeth were natural. There was also a very good chance that his deep brown eyes might simply be the result of a good pair of contact lenses. The only snag was, she’d noticed earlier that he kept tugging at his collar, a sure sign he wasn’t comfortable with wearing a suit.
“What?” he asked then, his eyes twinkling.
“Sorry?” she replied, a little unnerved.
“You were making some kind of judgment, weren’t you?”
“About what?” She was naturally cagey, and as she’d been told many times before, difficult to read.
“About me.”
“What? What makes you think that?”
He smiled broadly. “You were, weren’t you?”
“Was not.”
“Were too,” he shot back and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” he asked, sitting forward and resting his chin on his hand.
“I was …” Robin thought quickly, “I was just wondering how you know the happy couple.”
“Don’t know them at all,” he said, glancing towards the head table. “Apparently one or their folks is a shareholder in my boss’s company. He couldn’t make it so we went along in his stead.”
“Oh.” Who was we? she wondered.
“What about you?”
“Anna’s a work friend.” She followed his gaze towards the top table where the bride was beaming from ear to ear.
“Seems a bit cracked to me,” he said. “Spending good money on all these fancy ice sculptures that’ll end up as plain H2O in a few hours’ time.”
Robin smiled. “I haven’t heard that one in ages.”
“Heard what?”
“That expression ‘cracked’. I have a friend back home – Leah – she used to say it all the time.” With an uncharacteristic bout of homesickness, she wondered what her friend was doing now, what everyone was doing now. She really should call her for a catchup.
“You know – you seem to spend an awful lot of time daydreaming.”
“What?”
“I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to chat you up and you keep looking dreamily into the distance.”
“You’re trying to chat me up?”
“Well, why else do you think I begged your man to swap places with me?”
“What man?”
“The one sitting over at that table with my workmates. He seems to be having a right old time.”
She looked at him. “You’re telling me that you switched the seating plan?”
“Yep.”
“But … but what made you think I was fair game?” She demanded. “I mean, what if I was here with a boyfriend, or a partner or – ”
“Didn’t matter,” he said, with an indolent shake of his head.
“What do you mean – it didn’t matter?” she repeated, stunned at the size of his ego. Yes, he was attractive but … “You can’t go around assuming that every woman you like the look of is willing and available to fall at your feet at a quick flash of that smile – that’s just so – so arrogant.”
“You like my smile? Cool.”
“I really don’t know who the hell you think you are,” she continued irritated now. Good-looking guys were all the same weren’t they – so full of themselves and cocksure that they could pick any girl up at the drop of a hat. “But if you think you can just –”
“Ah, I’m sorry, let me introduce myself,” he said cutting her off. “My name’s Ben McKenna. I’m new in the city and assuming I play my cards right, I in
tend to be the guy you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with.”
10
Thinking back on it now as she followed Ben down Lexington Avenue in the sunshine, Robin couldn’t help but smile.
Worse, he had thought it was such a killer line.
“What? What did I say?” he asked afterwards, when Robin had recovered from laughing.
“What made-for-TV movie did you get that from?”
“Hey, that came right from the heart,” he said, looking hurt as her shoulders continued to heave with laughter. “Was it really that bad?”
“Absolutely brutal.”
But the fact that he’d genuinely assumed it to be a romantic overture had been one of the most endearing things about him. He had such a childlike, almost naïve, sense of wonder about everything, that it was as though Robin was living her earlier days in Manhattan all over again.
For the first few weeks of their relationship, they behaved liked tourists and did everything from carriage rides in Central Park, trips across the river on the Staten Island Ferry, theatres on Broadway, shopping on Fifth Avenue, and Ben’s favourite – viewing the city from the top of the Empire State Building.
But for Robin, there was sadly nothing that could ever beat the view from atop the Twin Towers. That day on the ESB with Ben, looking out at the panoramic view of the island below, her gaze drifted across towards Battery Park and she felt once again the gaping void the destruction of the Towers had left deep in the hearts of everyone living in the city.
She’d been on her way to work that fateful day, and like so many others working in the financial district, had been deeply affected by the tragedy – and possibly more so by the fact that she was still alive.
Immediately afterwards, she began to question whether or not she had done anything worthwhile with her life, and in this regard found herself sorely lacking. Yes, she’d been doing well in her career, had learned to live successfully with a life-threatening allergy, and had lots of friends. But her New York friends weren’t the same as the ones she had left behind.
