Fourteen Days by The Authors Guild

Author:The Authors Guild
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

Day Nine

April 8

I BLEW OFF MY CHORES EARLY, BECAUSE THE BUILDING WAS GETTING MORE and more hopeless, and nobody seemed to notice or appreciate my efforts to keep the hallways clean. I spent the extra hour sorting through the liquor closet and arranging bottles. The old super kept an astonishing collection of liqueurs, aperitifs, digestifs, and bitters in weird bottles of various shapes. I’d already gone through a lot of the usuals, so out of curiosity I started sampling the ones I’d never heard of. Some of them were truly awful, bitter herbal concoctions probably made by monks in remote monasteries. I finally poured myself a thermos of ginger ale mixed with a liqueur called Malört. It was so disgusting that its ability to clear the head was almost like getting electroshock treatment.

By the time I reached the roof, I was already feeling no pain. I was late, and I missed the seven o’clock cheering. I ducked over to my fainting couch and took my seat as unobtrusively as possible, firing up my phone. Eurovision was launching the evening as usual, theatrically clasping and unclasping his hands as he looked about with anticipatory cheerfulness, urging someone to tell a story.

Just then, I noticed a newcomer to the roof, a young, nervous-looking woman, not making eye contact, body language stiff. I was alarmed. How did she get in? I checked the door every day to make sure it was latched. She wasn’t in the bible, I was sure of that. I wondered if she, too, was paying any rent, but reminded myself that none of us owed any loyalty to our absent landlord. I took another pull from my drink.

Eurovision noticed her, too. “Greetings,” he said, as she took an unoccupied seat, folding her hands in her lap. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said tentatively. “And you?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you up here before.”

“I’m not very familiar with the city,” she said. She had a strong accent—English clearly wasn’t her first language. I guessed she might be Chinese.

Eurovision gave her a sparkling smile, ignoring the non sequitur. “Well, welcome to the roof. We’ve been having some fun up here while we’re all locked in the building. Do you have a story to tell us?”

“Not really,” she stammered. “But maybe you can help me? I have been looking for a friend. But I wonder if it’s time to stop.”

Eurovision’s face clouded in confusion, but before he could say anything, she continued.

* * *

“I arrived in the city eight months ago for the start of fall semester. Before, I had only seen pictures of the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and the shops along Fifth Avenue. I didn’t realize how large Central Park was, in the dead center of the island, huge and rectangular, with its own forests and lakes, the occasional bird of prey. For an apartment, I’d imagined park views and those of a typical skyscraper, maybe a place that also sold ‘I Love New York’ shirts and sesame-seed bagels.

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