In a world that currently has no problem leaving people to sleep on the streets, I’m already nervous how Deckers are going to be treated as time goes on.
It’s a good thing Valentino won’t have to suffer from that nonsense.
Valentino
3:41 a.m.
The last box is full of footwear I won’t ever wear around New York City.
My Timberland boots did great work tonight, but I was really looking forward to stepping out with my favorite oxfords and blue Chucks and tan loafers. And also going for many morning runs in my Nikes, exploring Central Park. I pull out two pairs of white sneakers, one scuffed up from casual outings and the other reserved for parties where I’m dressing down but want to look fresh. My parents always thought I was ridiculous for owning identical sneakers with different purposes, but they’re not as involved in their appearances as I am. When I think I look good, I feel good. I stand by my fashion choices, even now when it might look silly to have been so protective of shoes that won’t see the light of day.
Not on me, at least. They’ll find new homes on someone else’s feet.
Until then, I line them up by the door.
“All done,” I say. It’s not much, but I’ve created the illusion that someone is living here.
“What’s next?” Orion asks behind a yawn.
I check the time on my watch. “Scarlett should be boarding by now. Mind if I call her?”
“No need to ask,” Orion says, sliding his phone across the floor. “Just go for it.”
I used his phone right before we left the hospital so I could text Scarlett how best to reach me since Dalma was no longer along for the ride. She responded quickly, which had me nervous because I don’t want her texting and driving, but she had responsibly parked before checking the new notification from another unidentified number. Even distressed, Scarlett is still playing it safe, which is great because we still have about twenty minutes before we’re certain that she’s not also dying today.
I go to his call history and click Scarlett’s newly saved name. She answers my FaceTime in seconds.
Scarlett’s face and eyes are red, and she exhales immediately upon seeing me. “I was so nervous it wasn’t going to be you.”
“I’m home,” I say, angling the camera so she can see the apartment with what little I have unpacked and Orion in the corner.
“Good. Make sure there’s nothing in there that can kill you. Like the stove or sharp surfaces. Does the window lock? Lock the window so no one can sneak in.”
If this were an ordinary call, I might just tell her that everything is fine. But I want to calm her nerves as much as I’ll need her to calm mine, so I go around the apartment and make sure it’s death-proofed.
“All done,” I say.
“Thank you. Don’t hang up yet.”
“I won’t.”
I sit on the air mattress, which is firm enough to help me sleep for a couple hours. I watch Scarlett as she checks in at her gate and takes a deep breath. She’s only flown twice before and she’s not a fan. Now more than ever I regret leaving early. The cell service gets weaker the deeper she goes down the jet bridge because despite all the reports of in-flight Wi-Fi becoming a thing, I don’t know anyone who’s been on a plane with one yet.
“Scar,” I call as she keeps lagging, her face frozen in ways she would hate.
I hang up and send her a text, hoping it goes through: Service sucks. Let me know when you’re about to take off. I love you, Scar.
“She’s boarding,” I tell Orion. “I should probably go to bed. I want to be rested when she arrives.”