Without a Net

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  Fiona rose carefully and reached behind the shower curtain with a shaking hand to turn on the water. As soon as it was warm, she slowly peeled off her sweat-dampened pajamas and stepped over the edge of the tub into the stream of soothing water.

  God, what a mess. She would never drink again. She managed to wash her hair and body, the smell of lavender giving her mood a welcome boost, until the water started to run cool and she forced herself to get out. Brushed teeth and fresh pajamas made her feel a little more human before she stumbled back to bed. She probably needed to eat something, but she wasn’t going to chance it.

  As she was about to drift off, the phone rang. She reached over and picked it up without opening her eyes. It was probably Mike checking to see if she was okay.

  “’lo,” she croaked into the phone.

  “Hey, Sweetness,” drawled the voice with a thick southern accent on the other end of the line. “Did I wake you?”

  Christ! She rolled onto her back and slapped a hand over her eyes. Her head started to spin but she had to hold it together. She was supposed to be at work. She worked every other Saturday at the firm and this was the day. Shit.

  “Oh, jeez, Twyla. I overslept.” She peered at the clock. It was ten a.m. She was an hour late, but there was no way she was going in. “I think I might have food poisoning. I’m not feeling very well.” She grimaced. She was a terrible liar.

  “Food poisoning, huh?” The air quotes were apparent. Twyla wasn’t buying it. “That’s just terrible, honey.”

  “I was up all night being sick.”

  Twyla tsked. “Well, you take care of yourself, girl. I already talked to Gregory and he told me to tell you to take the day off. It’s a gift for passing the bar exam.”

  Her eyes welled up. Gregory was one of the partners at the firm. Corporate law may not have been Fiona’s dream job, but she’d lucked out being able to work with such an awesome team during her internship.

  “You’re the best, Twyla. Thank you. Tell Gregory thank you, too.”

  “I’ll tell him, sugar. You just get better soon.” There were those air quotes again and Twyla hung up.

  Fiona let the phone drop onto the bed.

  She closed her eyes and settled into the down comforter. As if on cue, the angry growl of an engine shattered the silence, followed by the excruciating back up warning that had originally roused her. The delivery truck must have finished its business. With a grinding of gears and a volley of backfires, the roar gradually faded into the general noise of the city.

  Her last thought was to wonder how she was going to get back to sleep.

  6

  Meg’s footsteps echoed in the stairway as she skipped every other stair in her descent from Aunt Vi’s third floor walk-up. She glanced behind her to see if Aunt Vi had followed her out. She’d tried to slip out without disturbing her and Sherri, who’d disappeared into Aunt Vi’s room, but the front door to the apartment had a nasty squeak.

  Based on the argument she couldn’t help but overhear when their voices had grown louder, Meg had discovered that Aunt Vi hadn’t told Sheri that Meg was temporarily moving in with her. In fact, Sherri had questioned whether it was really Meg in the guest bedroom. Meg was debating whether she should step out of the room to prove it was her, when they took the argument into Aunt Vi’s room. Now, pushing open the glass front door, Meg was happy to be free from the suddenly oppressive apartment. She hoped this wasn’t going to be an issue.

  After they’d dropped all of her belongings at the apartment, the movers had gone to get some coffee and it looked like they’d gone well past the twenty minute timeframe she’d negotiated with the angry man across the street. It looked they were done now and the van rumbled into traffic. The kid driving spotted her and waved from the open window. The way the truck’s gears were grinding indicated he hadn’t been driving for very long.

  She shook her head. “Ease up on the clutch, kiddo,” she mumbled to herself as the truck lurched forward, nearly stalled, and then jerked forward again.

  She hoped her belongings would survive the drive cross country to Washington. Maybe she should have gone with the company with the brand name she recognized, instead of taking advice from Aunt Vi, who always “knew a guy” giving a great deal.

  The man she’d talked to earlier was standing on the far sidewalk flipping the truck the bird. She laughed at the comedic performance as he added his other hand to the salute for good measure. A little old lady shuffled up to him and patted his arm. He dropped his hands and they walked into one of the garden-level apartments in front of the building.

  The truck got lost in the traffic up the street and at just half past ten in the morning, the heat was already radiating off the cement in waves. She had a feeling that summer in the city was going to be hot. With a quick look up at the third floor of the building, she decided to go down to Helga’s café to get an iced coffee. Maybe Taylor would be there. Meg was going to work at the shop for a couple of months while Taylor and her wife, Karma, went on a trip to Europe. It was a vacation for Taylor but a work trip for Karma, who was looking for “old world recipes” for a new cookbook she was writing. Meg knew they’d be awesome no matter what they were. Karma was a fabulous cook.

  After the two block walk in the warm spring sunshine, the air conditioning in the homey café hit her with blessed relief. The shop was bustling with customers on this Saturday morning. Meg stood in line to order a drink. She loved Helga’s. Indie rock music played over the competing din of customer conversations and the hissing of the giant espresso machines as they dispensed steaming drinks. Meg had visited the store several times before. It had a different vibe compared to her Uncle Arthur’s coffee shop up in Ithaca, which was sleek and industrial, but she was sure she’d like working here. It may have been different if she needed the job, but since she was only helping out, she looked forward to getting to know the people from the neighborhood.

  “Hey, Meg!” Taylor’s eyes lit up when Meg made it to the front of the line.

  Taylor was working the register but she rushed around the counter to give Meg a hug. Good thing no one had come in after Meg. Taylor’s hugs couldn’t be rushed.

  “How was the trip down? You all settled in?” Taylor let go of Meg and adjusted the colorful head wrap holding back her nearly floor-length dreadlocks.

  “The movers just left. I don’t have much, so I’m as settled as I can be right now.”

  A customer came in and Taylor greeted them with a warm smile.

  Taylor turned to the barista who was finishing up the order of the person who’d been ahead of Meg. “Noel, do you mind whipping up an iced Americano for my friend Meg and helping Mr. Glugman while she and I chat?” Noel smiled and gave an agreeable nod while Taylor led Meg to an empty table near the window, stopping to say a few words to some customers along the way.

  Taylor adjusted a few of the woven bracelets on her wrists. “Do you need a couple days to get situated?”

  Meg shook her head. “I can start tomorrow if you need me.”

  Taylor relaxed into her chair. “Thank the goddesses, girl. You don’t know what a lifesaver you are to help us like this!”

  Meg was delighted she was in a position to help. “Hey, it’s what friends do. Besides, I have time to kill before I get my license to practice in Washington and I wanted to spend spring and summer in the city.”

  Taylor tapped Meg’s wrist. “Well, all I can say is you’re doing us a big favor. Karma’s been planning this trip to Italy for two years. When Thaddeus told us he was quitting to open his own comic book store and Gertie came down with the shingles, I was all, ‘Holy guacamole, what am I gonna do?’ Probably stay here. You’re a lifesaver, girl. A lifesaver.”

  A woman in a barista apron Meg hadn’t noticed when she’d first come in approached their table and placed drinks before them. “A large iced Americano for Taylor’s friend. Here�
�s your chai, Taylor.”

  Meg thanked her, and the barista nodded but didn’t smile. Interesting. Maybe it was just the way she was. The woman’s dark hair contrasted with her very pale skin, thickly lined eyes, and blood red lipstick. A small hoop nose ring decorated one of her nostrils and tattoos covered much of the skin on her arms. All black clothing finished the look. Even though the woman was several years younger than her, it was as if Meg was back in high school and one of the cool kids had just walked up.

  “Who’s this, Taylor?” the woman asked, hooking a thumb toward Meg. “This the one helping out while you’re in Italy?”

  Ah. Maybe she wasn’t happy with Meg coming to help.

  “Meg, this is Betty.” Taylor draped an arm around Betty’s waist. “Betty’s been here forever. She can show you all the stuff you need to know. She’ll manage the books. I can manage most of it remotely, but just in case a vendor calls and needs us to cut a check or something.”

  Meg felt the weight of Betty’s stare. She reminded herself that Betty was young. Under all the makeup and hair dye, she couldn’t be more than twenty-one.

  “Nice to meet you, Betty.”

  Betty’s stare grew less intense when she smiled. “Backatcha, Meg Jordan. Taylor said you can barista and do the register. It’ll be nice to have someone start who I don’t have to train.”

  Meg watched Betty’s back as she walked towards the register.

  Taylor held Meg’s wrist. “Her bark is worse than her bite, I promise. I actually think she might like you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Meg said with a grin.

  7

  The phone, set to vibrate, shuddered between the wood tabletop and the metal side of the lamp, splintering the silence. By the time Fiona’s groggy mind realized what the racket was, the vibrating had stopped. She slumped back into her pillows with a moan. There was no way she was going to move. Whoever had called could wait.

  Sinking back into sleep, her leaden body succumbed to the comfort of her bed. Sleep had almost reclaimed her when the phone began to vibrate again.

  “Stoooooop,” she begged.

  With more effort than it should have taken, she rolled over and reached for the phone. It stopped vibrating before she could answer, but when she picked it up, she saw it was already after three. Damn! She knew she should get out of bed, but instead settled further into the pillows. To her surprise, she felt better. Kind of. Her head throbbed and it hurt to move her eyes, but the all-consuming fatigue was slowly dissipating. Best of all, the urge to retch her guts out was gone. In fact, she was ravenous. Trying not to make any sudden movements, Fiona lifted her phone and squinted at the display. Three missed calls from her best friend, Maureen. She better call her before she showed up on her doorstep. Her aching head could not deal with Maureen if she got riled up.

  8

  Meg was back at Aunt Vi’s. A long visit with Taylor to get the lay of the land at the coffee shop meant that it was now well into late afternoon. When she’d gotten back, neither Aunt Vi nor Sherri were in the apartment, which was a relief.

  The day had turned into a scorcher, and while the air-conditioning units in the living room and Vi’s bedroom were adequate for making most of the apartment comfortable, there weren’t any in the guest room, which was at the very back of the apartment. It was stifling. Meg decided she’d rectify that as soon as possible. It was only spring and the heat would get worse when summer arrived. The small oscillating fan she’d found in the closet moved the hot air around, but did little to cool the room. She opened the window of her new room and noticed it opened to a fire escape. The detail delighted her, reminding her of countless movies she’d watched as a kid. She suddenly understood where her mother’s nostalgia came from when she’d described her memories of New York City after Meg had announced she’d be spending the spring and summer here.

  She padded out to the kitchen to find something cool to drink. Unsurprisingly, she found the choices Aunt Vi had were limited to tap water and beer. She grabbed a beer and went back to her room, where she picked up her sketchbook and crawled out the window.

  The fire escape was an architectural piece of art, built out of decorative wrought iron with a century or more of scuffed black paint slathered on it. A small grill and an old metal folding chair were tucked up against the brick building. Meg smiled to think about Aunt Vi, who was built like a fireplug, climbing out the window. Meg unfolded the old chair and sat down. The ubiquitous scent of Chinese food competed with other cooking smells—pizza, barbeque, something fried. She’d visited New York City several times over the last few years in school, but having grown up on the outskirts of Seattle, she’d never lived in a large city before. The dense pulse of humanity beat all around her; people above and below her were all doing their own thing, not even aware she was there. It was a humbling thought. At first she imagined the feeling flooding through her was loneliness, but soon realized it was more like the feeling she got when she gazed at the stars and remembered how small she was in comparison to the infinite universe. But instead of feeling insignificant, she felt like a vital piece of the city. It may have been huge, but she was a part of it, contributing her own energy to the city’s rhythm. This was the reason she’d decided to spend the spring and summer here.

  As she took a sip of her beer, a cool breeze lifted the hair from her face. The heat was starting to break ever so slightly as the sun moved beyond the buildings. From her third-floor vantage point, she watched people on the sidewalks moving up and down the street. Helga’s was visible a block from where she sat. A steady stream of people flowed in and out of the front entrance, a good sign, since late afternoon was typically slow for coffee shops, especially when the weather was nice.

  Across the street, a woman in a red skirt and a tank top emerged from one of the street-level apartments and lifted her long brown hair from her neck before she set off down the sidewalk. Purpose marked the woman’s stride, similar to many of the other people walking down the sidewalk. It was confident, no nonsense. She didn’t pay attention to the people she passed and they didn’t seem to notice her. Meg noticed her, though. She wasn’t sure what it was from so far away, but there was something about her that made Meg keep watching until she disappeared into a restaurant. Meg wondered if the woman was joining friends.

  Meg finished her beer as the sidewalk continued to fill up with people and the afternoon cooled into the early evening. Many of the pedestrians had the determined walk of the woman she had seen earlier. She wondered if she’d ever have that kind of New York attitude.

  She picked up her sketchbook and started to draw.

  9

  “Sorry I’m late.” Fiona dropped her phone and keys onto the Formica tabletop, gathered her skirt to her and slid into a tattered vinyl booth in the Budget Diner. She had a hard time making eye contact with her two closest friends, Josh and Maureen. Maureen looked fabulous, as usual. Her red hair was down and looked soft and shiny. Josh, in his weekend clothes, looked like he had just rolled out of bed. One would never guess that during the work week he was a well-dressed attorney. The threesome had gone to law school together at nearby Columbia University. The Budget Diner had always been a favorite spot for studying, with unlimited refills on coffee and cheap, but delicious, daily food specials. With the rigors of law school over, it was now a habit to meet there.

  “You being late is nothing new,” Maureen said as she licked the spoon she used to stir her tea before sitting it down on the edge of the saucer.

  Fiona grimaced. She deserved it. “I know. I suck. Especially since I live so close.” The fake leather beneath her squeaked as she settled back in the booth. Were they staring at her? Did they know anything about the night before? Mike wouldn’t have said anything. Would he?

  The brief walk to the diner in the warmth of the spring air had helped to blow away some of the haze of the hangover she had battled most of the day, but the flic
kering of the diner’s overhead florescent lighting wasn’t helping the headache she couldn’t seem to shake. She was never going to drink again. She ran her hand through her hair and picked up a menu, hoping at least that the eye drops had erased the red from her normally clear hazel eyes. She peeked over the menu and caught Maureen and Josh exchanging looks. A feeling of paranoia swept over her. Were they judging her? She shouldn’t have come.

  A waiter appeared suddenly beside her. “Hey, Fiona.” He lifted a carafe of coffee. “Whatzit today? Coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee’s fine. Thanks, P.” She smiled at him, flipping over the cup in front of her. P was short for something he wouldn’t reveal, although Fiona and Maureen had been trying to guess since they’d started coming to the diner. “Percival?”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head as he topped off Josh’s cup. Fiona lowered her menu, Maureen was back to innocently bobbing the teabag up and down in her cup, while Josh chewed on a hangnail.

  “I’ll be back to take your orders in a few. I suggest the Polish sausage over the snapper for you, Hon.” P pointed to Josh with a wink and a jut of his hip before he wandered over to talk to a guy at the end of the counter.

  “What are you smirking about?” Maureen looked over her shoulder to see what Fiona was looking at. “Oh. I think your diner boyfriend has a new man, Josh.”

  Josh looked over his shoulder. P wiggled his fingers in a wave and blew a kiss. Josh laughed and turned back to the table. He shrugged. “We decided we made better friends.”