‘It helped? Really?’
‘I mean, I’m still lost without her.’ I shake my head. ‘Honestly, it feels so alien not having her around, not knowing where she is. I know that doesn’t make any sense but you understand what I mean.’
‘Yeah.’
The coffees arrive.
‘He seemed like a good guy, Scott,’ I say.
Violet covers her eyes with her hands and takes a deep breath. ‘He truly was,’ she says. ‘Everything ahead of him.’
‘Life is short,’ I say. ‘I have learned that this month. Life is very short. You have to live it.’
She sips her coffee.
‘How did Groot react?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘Your professor. How did he seem when his wife stormed in all furious and screaming angry.’
‘Oh, no, she wasn’t angry at all,’ says Violet. ‘She was calm and collected. A real pro. She served him divorce papers is all. At least that’s what we assumed they were. It was a file of papers. She told him to find an attorney and she said if he returned to the family residence he’d be met by security. Then she walked away with her head held high.’
‘He must have been devastated.’
‘At least he still has his life,’ she says. ‘He can still live on, fix the mess, maybe. Reconcile, get couples counselling or whatever. It’s not like Scottie. I keep expecting to get a WhatsApp from him, you know? A message about seeing a movie or getting a bagel in Wu + Nussbaum together after class.’
‘What if the perpetrator is still in Manhattan?’ I say.
‘Who knows,’ she says. ‘Could be anywhere. Could be halfway across the world by now. Say, when are you flying back?’
‘Day after tomorrow from JFK,’ I say. ‘I’m not looking forward to that flight one bit.’
She looks at me quizzically.
‘The turbulence. Bird strike. Both pilots getting sick. Or maybe a hijack by some lunatic with an improvised weapon. A bomb in someone’s luggage. A bolt failure in the wing. Engine fire. Multiple engine fires. Freak cross-winds. Some new strain of avian flu. Or Ebola, even. Mid-air collision. Crashing on take-off, crashing on landing. I don’t like to think about it.’
She frowns and says, ‘So swallow a Valium and don’t fucking think about it.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘That’s what your sister always did,’ says Violet, smiling. ‘I used to give her sleeping pills every time she flew to some fancy vintage car rally or art auction someplace. She’d doze all the way there on the jet, and all the way back. Used to wash them down with fine champagne. She knew how to live, your sister.’
‘She really did.’
‘I’m gonna miss you, Molly.’
‘Same. I’m glad KT had you as a friend.’
‘You mind if I get in touch if I ever get my bank account healthy enough to visit London?’
‘I’d probably kill you if you didn’t.’
‘You’ll take me to Buckingham Palace, eh?’
‘Where else?’
We’re too sore to laugh, too sad to smile much. We drink our coffees and get refills. I get a call from Mum but I don’t take it. She calls back three times, so I apologise to Violet and accept it. ‘Mum, I can’t talk. I’m with Violet.’
‘Did you hear about Katie’s friend Scott? They murdered him.’
‘I know, Mum. That’s why we’re talking right now. Violet’s really upset.’
‘You have to come home, sweetie. I mean it. Call the airline up, they’ll put you on an earlier flight, just explain all this. You need to get back to England now, where it’s safe.’
‘I’m coming home, Mum. The day after tomorrow. I need to tie up some loose ends but I’ll be really cautious, I promise.’
She starts getting flustered on the phone, talking about asking for police protection. ‘Violet’s with me,’ I say. ‘I’m safe. I’m not alone.’
We end the call. Violet pays and then we step out into the street.
Jimmy waves from his food cart and I try to ignore him.
‘That guy wants to talk to you, the guy in the smoothie cart.’
I wave at him and then start walking the other way with Violet. He shouts, ‘Molly, come over here.’
‘We should go over, no?’ says Violet.
I nod, reluctantly. ‘He’s a nice guy. I buy smoothies from him.’ We turn and walk to his cart.