‘Hmm,’ Jenny looked at me sideways. ‘What do you think, Angela? If your ex turned up right now with a bunch of roses and an apology, what would you do?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, staring hard at my glass. ‘I suppose I’d just send him right back where he came from.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Jenny shook her head and downed her drink. ‘You’d take him back in a heartbeat. You know it.’
‘Wow,’ I bit my lip. ‘Where did the anti-Oprah come from?’
‘Jesus,’ Erin said, putting the cocktail menu down and standing up. ‘Welcome to the dark side, Angela. Meet Drunk Jenny.’
I looked at my new friend, her head resting on the edge of the bar, her shoulders drooped.
‘Deep depression, check. Determined to bring everyone else down, check. Won’t quit until she’s offended everyone she’s ever met, even when she’s a new friend and she’s celebrating getting a great job, check,’ she shrugged on her coat. ‘I’m not hanging around for this sweetheart. She’ll be fine tomorrow’
Erin kissed me and Vanessa on the cheek and slapped Jenny on the backside on her way out. ‘Buck up doll or that one night stand is going to cost you more than just a boyfriend.’
‘This is so the opposite of fun,’ Vanessa sighed, finishing up her drink and making to leave. ‘I’m sorry, Angela, I can’t do this again. Some friends of mine are going down to Bungalow, why don’t you come? There’s no point when she’s like this.’
‘No, I’ll stick it out,’ I shook my head, not sure what sticking it out would mean, ‘but thanks.’
‘You sure? Lots of hot guys and my friend can totally get us in?’ Vanessa gave me half a second to change my mind and then she was gone, waving as she went.
I looked back at Jenny.
‘I’m so pathetic,’ she mumbled into her folded arms. ‘You should leave me here.’
‘I should, but I guess I won’t,’ I said. I had some tolerance for self-pity but not enough. ‘Does this happen often?’
‘Only if I think about him,’ she replied, still face down.
‘And do you think about him often?’ My turn to finish my drink and put on my coat.
‘All the time,’ same muffled whine.
‘Have you thought about putting your own advice into practice at all?’ Pulling her up off her stool was harder than it should have been given she weighed as much as a flea.
‘Thought about it,’ she said, allowing me to slide her jacket onto her shoulders. ‘Never managed it. I don’t deserve to be over him.’
‘Look,’ I said, staring her hard in the eyes. ‘You did something wrong and you might never get back with your ex, but if I’ve learned one thing from the last week, it’s that there’s running away, wallowing and, hopefully, a happy medium called getting on with life. And you’re going to have to get on with life, otherwise, you have no authority as my life coach and then where will I be?’
‘I suppose you do need me,’ she sniffed. ‘I just can’t work out how to get over him.’
‘Have you tried running halfway around the world? It works wonders.’ I grimaced as we shuffled out of the bar. ‘And I’ve got to say, right now, running away looks a lot better than your moping.’
‘But don’t you lie awake at night, wishing he was with you?’ she said, tipping her head back and leaning into me.
‘Actually, no,’ I said, the fresh evening air hitting me as we staggered down the steps outside. ‘We had really different sleep patterns anyway so we didn’t often go to bed together. I can’t recommend being dog tired at the end of every day enough as a break-up recovery system.’
‘You so know what I mean,’ she slurred, throwing herself into the road without even looking for the walk sign. ‘Don’t you want him with you? You know, with you? Just to feel the weight of him on top of you?’
‘Oh.’ I walked a little further in silence. ‘Well, I sort of haven’t felt that for a while anyway. We didn’t have the best sex life ever. I suppose if I think about it that way, I’ve been on my own for a long time …’
As I thought about how long I had been on my own, I realized I really was on my own. Jenny wasn’t beside me. Looking back, I spotted her hanging in the doorway of a diner, shouting at someone.
‘Turn it up!’ I heard her yell as I scurried back down the street. ‘Turn the goddamned song UP!’
‘Get lost!’ The guy behind the counter turned away as I grabbed for Jenny’s arm. ‘Control your friend, lady,’ he muttered at me.
‘Hey, Jenny,’ I pulled her gently away from the door, ‘come on, let’s get you home.’
‘This song was on all the time when we were dating,’ she said, allowing me to move her down the street and towards her doorway. ‘I hated it.’
‘Jenny, listen to me,’ I said, fumbling in Jenny’s handbag for her keys while she slumped against the doorframe. ‘You’ve got to snap out of this. Would Oprah behave like this after too many cocktails?’
‘Fuck Oprah,’ she said, falling through the door and up the stairs to the second-floor apartment.
‘God, this is serious,’ I said to myself. It didn’t take me long to realize that firstly, this is what happens when you spend a lot of time with someone you don’t know and secondly, my time in New York was not going to be all hot boys and fabulous shopping.
Bugger.
As I watched Jenny throw herself into a sobbing heap on the sofa, I wondered if this was how I was supposed to be feeling about Mark when in reality, I just felt empty when I thought of him. ‘Let’s get you into bed,’ I said. ‘Hopefully, tomorrow, you’ll have stopped putting yourself through this, whatever it is. Try and get some sleep.’ I felt awful, but I just didn’t know what to do and she seemed pretty happy wallowing.
‘Hey, Angie, I’m really sorry,’ she said as we staggered through the dark apartment towards what I assumed was her bedroom. ‘Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ve got to be back at the hotel in the morning anyway and I don’t want you to have to get back on your own.’
‘Well, it is late and I am lazy …’ I pushed Jenny across the giant squishy mattress and dropped down beside her. ‘Only on the condition that you promise not to spoon me.’
‘I won’t spoon if you won’t sing.’
‘Shut up, Lopez.’
‘Night, English.’
Eventually, after rolling over seven times, the summer sunshine streaming through Jenny’s windows forced me to roll out of bed.
‘What, I don’t even get a kiss?’ Jenny mumbled from under the covers.
‘Not until you’ve brushed your teeth.’ I stretched and took a look around. Jenny’s room was a mess. Aside from piles of self-help books peeking out from underneath half a dozen half empty coffee cups, every surface in the room was taken up by shoes. There were shoes in boxes, shoes spilling out of the wardrobe, even shoes on display in the bookcase–half sling-backs, half self-help books. The walls were lined with hundreds of photos in clip frames. Several were dedicated to Jenny and a good-looking blond guy who I guessed was Jeff. No wonder she didn’t have a new boyfriend, the walls of her room were like a shrine to her ex.
‘So, I was thinking,’ Jenny started, holding her arm across her eyes to block out the