But it’s not from Birdie.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hi, Eddie! It’s Piper! Maddie’s niece? Declan’s fiancée Maddie’s niece. Declan’s at our place RN. U posed for a picture with her for me? In Ohio. On Christmas Eve. BEST. CHRISTMAS. GIFT. EVER!!! And then u had a signed headshot sent to me? I have it up on my wall in my bedroom.
ME: Hey Piper. How are you?
PIPER: OMG hi! TY for replying! I am gr8! How RU?! Declan said ur in town at his place! He gave me ur number. LOL hope u don’t mind! Hi!!! Welcome to New York!!!
ME: Thank you!
PIPER: He said ur there all alone.
ME: Thanks for the invite, but I have to wait for an important call, so I’m gonna stick around here. But that’s really nice of you.
PIPER: Okay!
ME: We’ll see, thanks.
PIPER: Is it the IG girl? The important call? I saw that she unfollowed you.
ME: Nope. We broke up. I’m waiting for my friend Birdie to call.
ME: My girlfriend Birdie, I guess.
PIPER: Oh cool! She sounds nice!
ME: She is. She’s really nice. She’s on a train headed for New York RN.
PIPER: Ohhhhhh! The Girl on the Train!!! She’s so pretty! I
ME: Thank you, Piper. I appreciate that.
PIPER: And you have a way cuter butt.
PIPER: Oops. I guess I shouldn’t say that 2U.
ME: It’s cool. Be sure to tell Declan you think my butt is hotter than his.
PIPER: LOLOL. Ur butts are kind of tied for me TBH. Tied for #1 Best Butt in the World Everrrrrrr!!!
ME: Guess I can live with that.
PIPER: Okay, well. My mom’s yelling at me to set the table. Have a GN if I don’t CU! Xoxo
ME: You too, Piper. Thanks for checking in on me.
PIPER: Oh well, I can check in with u every day if u want! LOLOL. JK. I mean, I totally will if you want me to.
ME: BBFN.
Sweet kid.
But still no call or text from Birdie, on either of the phones.
It’s going to be a long, terrible night.
23
Birdie
The One with the Shadoobie
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Gavin your conductor here. As you may have noticed—there’s an ice storm, and our train, which has been traveling at under twenty-five miles per hour due to weather and signal outages, is currently not moving at all. This is due to what we like to call ‘freight train interference.’ A freight train on the track ahead of us is stuck because it hit some low-hanging branches that damaged its engine. A crew is on its way to repair that freight, but we are unable to move forward until that happens. It could happen in a few hours. It could happen in more than a few hours. But it will happen. Until then, we’ll be passing out free drink coupons to everyone on board. Please drink responsibly, and for those of you who are enjoying one of our passenger’s portable karaoke machines—I’d like to request that someone sing ‘You Make my Dreams Come True’ by Hall and Oates for me and dedicate it to my Valentine, Michelle. Gavin, out.”
Sorry, Gavin. I’ve already picked out my karaoke song and I stopped drinking responsibly two beers ago.
It has been a couple of hours since I was able to get a cell phone signal. The last text exchange with Eddie went like this:
ME: This entire train ride has been a real shadoobie.
EDDIE: You know, I assumed the word “shadoobie” was some Old English word that meant “tribulation.” But according to Urban Dictionary it’s shit-related. I love you so much right now, I could just shadoobie.
I wrote back that I also love him so much that I could shadoobie, but the message still hasn’t been delivered. Now I’m feeling a bit crapulous—which actually is an Old English word meaning I feel ill after too much eating and drinking. There’s really nothing else to do here. I’ve prepaid for my hotel room in New York, so I don’t have to call them to make sure they hold my reservation. I just wish I could call Eddie to make sure he doesn’t think I’m not responding to his “I love you” text.
The exhausted and harried-looking conductor makes his way through the dining car, where many of us have gathered to blow off steam this afternoon. By blow off steam, I mean the Americans are getting wasted and singing, while The Earl of Fiddle Faddle Fart Knockerville has been sitting here fuming. Things aren’t going exactly as planned, and apparently, things usually go the way Rupert wants them to.
You’d think he’d somehow arranged for Eddie to miss the train himself, he was so pleased to find me alone yesterday. It was almost sweet, the way he took it upon himself to help me with the Wi-Fi signal, and he even offered to call to try to get Eddie a ticket for the TEDx talk tomorrow. He wasn’t able to, but it was nice of him to offer.
But ever since the ice storm started and the train began traveling at a snail’s pace, he’s been a turd squire of the highest order.
Now he’s got his sights set on poor Gavin. Rupert puts down his cup of fancy tea, gets up and marches over to him. I follow him. I don’t want to lose my place in the karaoke lineup, but I also want to make sure he isn’t too much of an ass to Gavin.
“Oi. You’re the conductor, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I’m Lord Rupert Norton III, and this entire situation is absolutely unacceptable. I cannot arrive in New York City late tonight nor early tomorrow morning—I’m giving a Ted Talk tomorrow morning. I need to be well-rested and prepared. This young lady I’m traveling with is attending the conference as well and must also arrive there tonight. Do you understand?”
“A TEDx Talk,” I mumble. “And we aren’t traveling together.”
Lord Twaddlebottom either didn’t hear what I said or ignores it because he’s very focused on being an irate upper-class asshole. “Let me speak to your supervisor.”
Gavin gives him a blank stare. “About the ice storm? Hang on, let me just get God on the phone for you—oh wait. There’s no signal. Enjoy your tea.” And with that, he rolls his eyes and continues on his merry way.
Drop that mic, Gavin.
“Unacceptable,” Rupert mutters, shaking his head. “This would never happen in England.”
“I seem to recall reading an article that said trains in northern England travel at the same pace as a horse and cart.”
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and blinks twice before saying, “I wasn’t speaking of rural England.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Shall we retreat to my room, perhaps? This ruckus is giving me a raging headache.”
I take a step away from him. “I’ve put my name on the karaoke list, so I can’t leave. But you should definitely go lie down. There’s really nothing we can do about our arrival time, so we might as well enjoy the ride.”
“That is a very un-British thing to say.” He frowns. “Shall we meet back here for dinner, then?”
“I’m going to be staring at my phone, waiting for a signal so I can call my boyfriend, so I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“Your ‘boyfriend’?”
“Eddie.”
He grimaces. “Your friend the actor?”
What a shadoobie.
“Yes.”
“That seems…unlikely.”
/> “I know.” I shrug. “Turns out I like guys who have a big brain and a big cock that they know how to use! That’ll be the subject of my TEDx Talk.” I give him a wave over my shoulder as I walk away from him. “Feel better!”
I might be a tad drunker than I thought I was.
A few of the little kids I babysat on the train to Chicago finish up the cutest version of a Ghostface Killah song I’ve ever heard. It really cleared the air after that girl who screamed the Alanis Morrisette song into the mic. And then the woman who owns the karaoke machine calls me up to the “stage,” which is by her table.
I let my hair down, shake it out, clear my throat, and then belt out one of my mom’s favorite songs, by Vanessa Williams. I never really cared much for it before, but now it’s my anthem. Because sometimes the snow does come down in June. Sometimes the sun really does go ’round the moon. This world is a crazy place. And just when I thought our chance had passed—Eddie fucking Cannavale went and saved the best for last.
I just can’t wait to be standing face-to-face with him again.
I will never stop kissing that face.
I will never stop telling him I love him.
When I’m done singing, I curtsy for my audience and immediately pull my phone out from my pocket.
“Fucking motherfucking shadoobie fucker fuck!”
I did not mean to say that into the microphone.
I am definitely drunker than I thought I was.
I smile and hand the mic back to the karaoke machine lady and then hurry out into the next car so I can listen to the voicemail that just came through from Eddie.
I can’t believe I missed his call.
24
Eddie
The One with Another Drunk Voicemail
February 12th, 4:32 p.m.
“Baby, won't you please come home - come on home, baby
’Cause your daddy's all alone - who’s your daddy?
I have tried in vain
Never no more to call your name - Birdie Beckett that’s her name
When you left, you broke my heart
Because I never thought we'd part - okay, that was my bad
Every hour in the day you'll hear me say
Oh, Birdie, mmmm come home - come home to Daddy.”
(muffled voice in background) “Why the fuck’s Declan got so many Dean Martin records? Who is he—Matlock? Come on. Put on something cool.”
“Dude. Don’t scratch Declan’s record or I’ll get in trouble!”
(muffled voice in background) “Don’t touch that record, you feckin’ maggot. Let me do it. Animal.”
“Hello? Did I…wait…did I already call? Hello? Is it…? Are you there? Is this voicemail? Hi. Birdie, hi. It’s Eddie. Your friend Eddie, who loves you.
Did it—was it weird that I said I love you that time in the text? Because I never didn’t get heard back from you… Wait… Wait…
Hey, I just got a text from you! Yay! You love me too. I was worried you changed your mind, but you did not and that is good. You are good. Sooooo good.
I’m not as drunk as they sound. As I sound. They made me—that’s my cousins over there, Noodle and Bully.”
(muffled laughter in background)
“I just called you guys Noodle and Bully!
They made me day drink because I miss you and I was sad. You were supposed to be here tonight, but I called the train people and they said not tonight and I said fuck you train people! Get my girl here now! But they can’t. They’re mean and I hate them.
I’m hungry? I should have eaten lunch, but they didn’t want to and now there’s whiskey and I still miss you.
But I’m here. I will be there. At Penis Station… Wait.”
(laughter)
“At Penn Station. You’re my Penis Station.
We are hashtag Breddie. Or hashtag Erdie. Or…Birdward?
(loud sigh)
“I miss you. You’re my filthy valentine and I hope you get here and I hope you’re safe and I’m gonna kiss you on all the places when you get here.
Okay, call me. Bye.”
25
Eddie
The One with the Baby Panda
“Real love is beautiful, you guys. It’s so fucking beautiful.” I hug one of the pillows I brought out from Declan’s guest room. The one I covered with the shirt that still smells like Birdie, because I’m a badass alpha.
“You are firmly correct, my friend.” Nolan reaches over from the other side of the sofa to clink glasses with me.
We’ve been enjoying a few fingers of Declan’s Glendalough whiskey. The good stuff. The really good stuff. A few hands worth of fingers, I guess. I feel warm and dizzy and loved. But it’s still not enough to ease the pain of missing Birdie. And it probably doesn’t help that someone put on Radiohead a while back, but at least Billy isn’t making us belt out that fucking Chumbawamba song anymore.
“It hurts. I’m happy, but why does my heart hurt so much?”
“Ahhhh, because it’s growin’. A boy’s heart has to break first so it can grow bigger. Man-size. For a real woman.” Nolan winks at me, with those glassy black eyes, and I sort of want to kiss him.
“That’s beautiful. It is. I can feel it growing.”
“I want my heart to grow too.” Billy is in an armchair across from us, hugging himself. “I just wanna be loved, y’know? For real. I just wanna find the right woman to love. So I can love her back.”
“Cheers to that, boyo.” Nolan pours a little more whiskey into Billy’s tumbler. “Cheers to that.”
“I’m so tired of being single. I fuckin’ hate Valentine’s Day. Every year, man. Christmas and New Year’s make me feel lonely, but at least you can spend them with family, right? But V-Day… Fuck you, Valentine’s Day! Where’s the love of my life, huh? Why do you guys get to have great women? And Declan and Brady and Aiden and Mark and Fergl and Sean? Everyone. Everyone but Billy.”
“Because you’re a feckin’ tool.”
“So? Lots of women love tools. I just need to meet the right one.”
They both look so sad, and I love them. I love these guys. They’re both assholes, but I love them. “You’re my best friends. Both of you. After Birdie. And Declan. And a bunch of guys I went to school with and worked with. But you’re on the list.”
“Cheers to you, my friend.” Nolan reaches for the bottle again.
“No more for me. I need to sober up so I’ll be in good shape when I have to meet Birdie at Penis Station. Penn Station. Fuck.”
“Our grandad met Granny at the church and married her when he was scuttered and banjaxed after stayin’ out all night with his mates, and she loves him still. Cheers to you, my friend,” he repeats, this time in a menacing tone, as he pours me another couple of ounces of whiskey.
My phone beeps with a notification.
I put down my tumbler and whip my phone out of my back pocket, expecting a text, but there’s a voicemail. From Birdie.
What the fuck, phone?!
How did I miss the ring again?
I jump up, still hugging the pillow to my chest.
“Aww. Don’t leave, man. Where ya goin’? Things were just gettin’ good.”
“Everyone shut up. Shut up!” I storm into the guest room and shut the door so I can listen to the message without those sad, lonely losers mumbling over it.
February 12th, 6:45 p.m.
“Eddie! It’s me, Eddie! Can you hear me? Shit. A bunch of kids just ran down the hall, yelling. I got your message, but then I lost the signal, and I’ve been waiting and now there are two bars. I don’t understand how we can sometimes get a signal and sometimes not, even though we’ve been in the same fucking place for ten fucking years. Oh yeah—I swear now. Pretty hot, right?
Hi! I’m drunk too and I miss you too! I was singing karaoke when you called. I was singing about us. And thinking about your sweet, beautiful heart, and all the sweet things you say to me, and also your cock. I can’t wait to see it again. I mean, I can’t w
ait to see you again. I’m gonna climb you like a baby panda. Like, you’re the tree and I’m the baby panda. A horny baby panda. No wait. Something sexier. A sexy baby cheetah. Rawrrr.
Yeah, so I should be there in New York by now, but I’m not and I’m sad. It sounds like we won’t get in until really early tomorrow morning. You don’t have to pick me up. You should sleep. It sounds like you’ll need the sleep. I hope you remember to eat and rehydrate. I will go to the hotel if you aren’t there. And then we’ll have all the sex. Hotel sex! Shower sex! Elevator sex, maybe even!
I miss you. And not just your penis, either. My heart hurts when I’m not with you, but I still feel you with me, Eddie. I’m filled with thoughts of you. I still can’t believe I’m saying these things to you—but screw it. I’m gonna tell you I love you to your face. I’m gonna love you all over your face, so hard. I’m gonna put your… in my mouth and… and then I’m gonna take your… and… until you…”
Fuck you, cell phones and trains and weather!
What’s my girl gonna put in her mouth and then take and do with it until I—what?!
This is worse than waiting to find out if I got a part that I really want.
But I heard the part that I really needed to hear, I guess. She loves me. She’s gonna love me all over my face. Hard.
A Very Friendly Valentine's Day Page 15
