Manhattan Dreaming (19 page)

I wasn't surprised to learn Kirsten was a Leo and on 2 August we celebrated her thirtieth.

‘Happy birthday to you … happy birthday to you …' Vikki and I had a birthday breakfast prepared when she finally got out of bed at ten.

‘Stop it – I don't even want to think about it.'

‘C'mon, let's celebrate,' Vikki said. ‘We're starting at Macy's, you need birthday underwear to wear tonight for the birthday bonk.'

‘Don't be ridiculous. Turning thirty is bad enough without you reminding me I haven't had sex in months.'

‘It's time, then.' Vikki poured coffee into Kirsten's favourite black-spotted mug.

‘I think I need some birthday underwear as well,' I said. I realised it was also some months since the last time I'd had sex.

‘When's your birthday?'

‘April. But it's good to be prepared.'

‘Seven months ahead, that's some preparation, but I think we can go shopping again before then, love. Don't want any of those Bridget Jones moments and grandma pants getting in the way, eh?' Vikki said with a completely straight face.

I ate my Vegemite toast as Kirsten opened her presents. Her phone beeped the whole time. Flowers arrived at the door from friends at work and the coffee table was covered in cards that had been sent from home.

‘Wow, I love it.' I'd bought her a squash blossom necklace in turquoise and coral from the Community House shop. ‘This is my lucky birthday necklace! How does it look?'

‘Deadly, sis – the coral really suits you. I should've gotten myself one.'

Vikki handed her gift over next, beautifully wrapped and ribboned.

‘Oh my god, an autographed photo of Robert De Niro. I can't believe it. But you
never
ask for autographs. It's too
uncool
.'

‘Yes, it is, but I was prepared to be uncool and risk my professional standing for your birthday. Just this once.'

‘Wait!' I reached into the fridge. ‘It's good you slept in, gave me time to get down to the markets and grab what every girl needs on her birthday.' I opened a box of cupcakes that had Kirsten's face as icing, just like the Obama ones I had the first day at Chelsea Markets. ‘Tadaaaahhhh.'

‘No way, how did you manage that?'

‘They like my accent, apparently.'

‘This is the best birthday ever! Let's shop.'

We walked the nine blocks to Macy's, grabbing a coffee from one of the ‘best coffee in New York' outlets. There were endless sales along the way so we ducked in and out of shops. I bought a red silk flower for my hair, Kirsten bought herself a patent-purple handbag and Vikki grabbed a pair of pale pink slingback shoes.

When we hit the corner of West 34th Street and Broadway I saw the famous red and white Macy's sign. The world's largest department store, Macy's occupied almost the entire block bounded by 7th Avenue on the west, Broadway on the east, 34th Street on the south and 35th Street on the north. It was bigger than the main shopping strip in Goulburn, and I loved it.

Inside, the store was spacious, reminding me of David Jones back home. The ceiling on the ground floor was high, and the space was bright white, well lit. You could see why Macy's New York was the flagship store and I wondered what the other 800-plus stores across America looked like. Surely, none of them could've been as big as this one.

They had
everything
here from lingerie to luggage, cameras to cakes. I watched the escalators full of men, women and children filing up and down from floor to floor.

‘You know what?'

‘What?' both girls asked.

‘I think there are more people in here than in my entire town back home.'

‘That's so funny.'

‘This store is larger than the entire perimeter of Goulburn. I think I've fallen in love again.'

‘Ladies lingerie is up, let's go.' Vikki led the way up the escalators.

‘Oh my god, there must be three thousand pairs of knickers here, and look at all the bras.' I loved lingerie, but it had always been wasted on Adam. I spent a fortune on knickers that only ever stayed on five minutes with him. At least here I could buy something and enjoy wearing it. We all grabbed a big pile and headed for the change rooms.

‘I'm coming back as a man in my next life,' Kirsten said from her cubicle.

‘Why?' Vikki laughed back.

‘I actually hate shopping for bras, and swimsuits. It's too much work. Men have no idea.'

I bought a red bra, a multicoloured striped bra and a black bra with matching knickers.

‘I don't know why I bother,' Kirsten said, handing over her selection to the cashier. ‘It's not like anyone's going to see them.'

‘Jesus, you can be negative sometimes,' Vikki said. ‘Firstly, the lingerie should be about making
you
feel even more beautiful, whether anyone else sees it or not. And secondly, you are so going to meet someone tonight. It's your birthday, this is Manhattan, and you're wearing Elle Macpherson's knickers!'

‘Anyone hungry?' I asked.

Kirsten spun around quickly. ‘Oh my god, I'm starving. It must have been all that exercise trying on bras! There's a lift just there,' she said, pointing to the wall.

‘You mean elevator,' Vikki said grinning.

‘I mean there's an
elevator,
yes. I'm still learning the lingo too,' Kirsten said to me, rolling her eyes. ‘I've slipped into my Aussie-speak again since you arrived.'

We got in the elevator and were greeted by a chirpy operator, something we didn't have back home. He closed the doors and we started our descent down to the food hall but before we reached the floor I started feeling dry mouthed and my heart was palpitating. Then I was breathless.

‘Are you all right?' Kirsten asked, grabbing my arm.

‘I can't breathe that well, I feel too closed in.' I started to feel faint, but I didn't know why. I wasn't stressed or anxious; it must have been the confined space.

‘Are you claustrophobic?' a guy behind me asked as I fell back slightly. ‘Oops,' he said, holding me up.

‘We need to get out,' Kirsten said urgently to the lift operator.

The girls and the guy holding me all got out together.

‘Does she need resuscitating?' the guy asked.

‘Nice try,' Vikki commented sarcastically.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Her eyes are open and she's breathing, buddy, so no, she doesn't need mouth-to-mouth.'

‘Okay, I was just trying to help.'

‘Resuscitation is usually done when someone has
stopped
breathing,' the lift operator said, hanging halfway out the door.

‘Here's a chair.' Kirsten appeared from nowhere with a piece of furniture. I was burning with embarrassment at causing a scene yet again, remembering my flight over.

‘I'm fine, please, don't fuss.'

‘Nice trick, hon, we need to get you in more elevators,' Vikki whispered to me, as the guy and the lift operator stepped back into the lift and the doors closed.

‘What?'

‘Guys holding onto you tight and wanting to give you mouth-to-mouth when you're still breathing. Why didn't I think of that? I should get one of the actors on set to teach me how to act claustrophobic.'

‘You're mad!' Kirsten declared.

‘Can we just get some food and water?' I pleaded.

‘There's pizza and pretzels and some other fast foods, on the next floor,' Vikki suggested.

‘I'm turning into a pretzel. I need a sandwich or salad,' I pleaded again.

‘Let's just take the escalator to the food hall.'

We sat eating salads, knowing we'd probably eat too many calories later that night. The girls politely didn't mention the incident in the elevator but I was concerned about it happening again. I wondered what Mum might suggest and then remembered Dad telling me to buy something from Macy's for Mum. On the way out of the food hall we passed a Macy's souvenir section and I went crazy, getting Mum a make-up purse, T-shirt, shopping bag, snow globe and cute key ring. I knew she'd love all of them and she could have her own Macy's experience at home.

As we headed out of the store, we all looked at the elevator and then the escalator and without saying a word walked towards the moving stairs.

I spent the afternoon resting – the lift-incident in Macy's had exhausted me. I would have to avoid enclosed spaces and crowds wherever possible in New York, but it was going to be much harder in the city of eight million than it was back in Canberra. I could avoid lifts in some instances, but what about going up the Empire State building? I decided to get online and search out some ways to manage the anxiety and claustrophobia, but first I had to catch up on emails to the girls and postcards to the family. The Aunts liked to receive cards to put on their fridges, and I had managed to get hold of a whole collection focusing on African Americans in politics, with portraits of Barack Obama and Martin Luther King Jr, and I even found cards with images of flyers from the First Annual Convention of the People of Colour in 1831. They'd be the talk of the bingo hall back home in Goulburn.

I emailed Libby and Denise and caught them up on work; my new local pub, the Australian; and the shopping we'd done. I attached photos of Macy's from every angle so they could get some idea of the size. I also sent some pics of me and the girls at home in Chelsea. Denise would've loved the layout of our apartment because she always wanted to rearrange furniture back home to maximise space.

I wrapped Mum's pressie and wrote on a postcard with a huge apple on it. I knew it would generate a few laughs back in Goulburn and that Dad would even see the funny side, eventually. He'd softened a lot by the time I'd left. Nick got a Barack Obama card, Max got Yankee Stadium and Emma got one of the George Gustav Heye Center, which housed the NMAI. As I put stamps on the cards I felt an overwhelming pang of homesickness and started to cry. I wanted to call home but knew ringing them in tears would only stress Mum and Dad out, and I didn't want them to worry. I put my iPod on and lay down on the bed listening to the hauntingly beautiful lyrics of Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu. I dozed off, grateful that I was going out to party for Kirsten's birthday.

All dressed in our birthday underwear and slinky dresses, we headed to the Cuban Bar and restaurant to meet Kirsten's friends from her work. Our group took up most of the venue, which seated about sixty. There was a massive ornate ceiling fan with a gorilla hanging off it, paintings on the wall of Cuban dancers and landscapes of Havana. Waiters wearing blue shirts and black pants carried plates of food as they bustled through the crowds of people standing at the bar.

‘These are for you, party girl.' Vikki handed Kirsten a plate of fried oysters. ‘Little aphrodisiac to help your birthday bonk along the way.'

‘You're mad, but thanks.'

‘And you, try this.' Vikki stuck a straw in my mouth. ‘It's a Havana Sunset.'

‘Nice.'

‘It's mine, though,' she said. ‘Yours is on its way. I ordered you an Old Havana – thought you might like the mix of rum, triple sec and peach nectar, the fruit juice being healthy and all.' Vikki winked cheekily at me.

‘Sounds yum, thanks.' We both turned back around to the bar while Kirsten took her plate of oysters to share with a guy who looked like he just might get a glimpse of her Macy's purchase.

Everyone seemed to be yelling at each other over the background music. I stood at the bar and the barman put my Old Havana in front of me. I turned to watch Kirsten laughing with her friends while Vikki chatted to a guy on her left. I stopped a waiter passing by and asked, ‘What is this music?'

‘It is from Puerto Rico. We have music from Cuba and Puerto Rico, but they are often referred to as
dos alas del mismo pajaro.
' He whispered into my ear and put one hand on the small of my back.

‘
Dos alas del mismo pajaro
,' I repeated in my Australian accent.