First Born(24)

‘You again. How are you doing, Molly?’

‘You remembered my name.’

He smiles. ‘One day you’re gonna be my new best customer.’

‘What’s yours?’

‘My what?’ He breaks off to serve two cups of bubble tea to a couple. ‘What’s my what?’ he says.

‘Name.’

‘Jimmy.’

‘Your real name.’

‘My name is Mahmud Nadir. You can call me Jimmy. I’m Jimmy.’

‘OK, Jimmy. I read you won an award for your smoothies.’

He holds up some folded cardboard certificates. ‘I got three prizes. Two for hygiene and one for my fruit salad.’

There’s a US flag and a small Afghan flag and a photo of his family behind the counter.

‘Could I have a smoothie?’

‘No problem.’

‘Mango and raspberry, please.’

‘You got it.’

He hands over the smoothie and I hand over five dollars and my backpack.

‘Wait, what is this?’ He backs up and holds his hands up. ‘Whatever it is, I do not want it. No way. No, thank you.’

‘It’s a go-bag,’ I say, smiling.

‘It’s a what bag?’

‘A go-bag, Jimmy.’

‘Where you goin’?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Girl, you speakin’ in riddles.’

‘How long have you been in New York, Jimmy?’

He still won’t take the bag from me. ‘Eighteen years, why?’

‘You know how sometimes things can go wrong. A big storm or a financial crisis. Maybe an explosion or a bus crash or mass shooting, that kind of thing.’

He looks at me suspiciously, his hands still far away from my backpack.

‘I always like to keep a few important items away from my hotel room when I travel. Sometimes I use a left luggage locker in a train station. I wondered if I could leave this bag with you. I’m going back to England soon so it’s just for a few days. You can look inside: there are no bombs or body parts.’

‘I can’t take it.’

‘Please, Jimmy. It’s a family emergency and I can’t afford a locker right now. You can look inside the bag if you like.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘What’s in there?’

‘A little cash, some water, some bug spray, spare clothes, a multi-tool, some Tampax . . .’

‘All right, all right, that’s enough. I’ll keep it for you. But I’m not taking responsibility, you hear? If it goes missing or someone takes it, then that’s your sorry luck for leaving it with me.’

‘Deal.’

‘You’re a crazy English girl.’

‘I know. Now, can you tell me where I can find pepper spray or bear spray?’

‘No bears in New York City.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘Place downtown near 14th Street I heard about a way back, not sure if it’s still there though. Sell all kinds of martial arts karate weapons. Flying stars and the like. You be careful what you do with those things, Molly. You been on a course?’

‘Thanks, Jimmy. See you soon.’

He disappears from view muttering as he hides my backpack away inside the cart.

I pass the diner and tell Mum and Dad where I’m going. I guess they gave up waiting as both are eating chicken pot pie with french fries. Mum apologises, and I take a napkin full of fries with me and go.

Yellow cab up to the YMCA in the Upper West Side takes ten minutes.

She’s waiting outside.

Short red hair. Blue jeans. Thick black coat: the kind a construction worker might wear.

Violet watches me get out of the cab.

And then she collapses to the ground like she’s been shot in the head.





Chapter 13


I run over and help up the woman Scott called KT’s soulmate. Nobody else seems to notice her on the ground.

‘I’m fine, really, I’m fine. My knees went weak, I need food, I guess. I’m good. Jesus, I’m an idiot.’ She stares directly into my eyes as she gets back to her feet.

‘Hey, miss. Your fare!’ yells the cab driver.

‘Pay the man,’ says Violet. ‘I’m OK now.’

I pay him and he looks at me like I tried to rip him off.

‘It’s more of a shock than I expected. To see you, I mean. Jesus,’ says Violet. ‘God, I’m sorry. I’m Violet, Vi, Katie’s friend.’

‘I know.’

‘I know you know, I’m just saying. Fuck, you look just like her, I mean obviously, duh, you’re twins, but you look just fucking like her. Like nothing’s even changed – you even frown like she did.’

I shrug.

‘I’m sorry about what happened,’ she says.

‘Thank you.’

‘No, I mean it. I’m real sorry. That it happened here in New York. It’s horrific.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

She says, ‘Can I give you a hug? I’m not coping with this very well. Is a hug too weird? Maybe I shouldn’t. Or? That OK? I figure we both need it.’

‘I’m not sure.’ KT was the hugger, not me.