‘I’m looking for something,’ she said after a pause. ‘I used to talk to Nia about it, when we were younger, about how I didn’t know what it was or what it looked like. I know I haven’t found it yet. It’s not about marriage or kids, I don’t think. It’s a feeling. I didn’t have it with Edward. I haven’t had it with anyone I’ve dated over here.’
Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘Have you ever had it with anyone?’
Anna thought about James. Jamie. Could she tell Sarah? It would feel like a betrayal of Nia, in two senses. Because Nia was the one she usually told everything to, and because Jamie was her boyfriend.
‘It’s going to sound weird, but I had this date once, years ago. And I thought I felt it then. But I never saw him again.’
Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean you never saw him again? Why not?’
Anna shrugged. ‘He didn’t call. I didn’t have his number.’
‘We should track him down!’
‘Please don’t tell me you’re one of those Americans who think we all know each other in tiny old England.’
Sarah threw back her head and laughed, and Anna had a sudden urge to kiss her throat. She could put a stop to all this, suggest they go back to her place. She had to put a stop to it, because she wasn’t planning to tell Sarah the bit about running into him again, in her best friend’s flat. And if she wasn’t careful, Sarah would be going online to try to find him.
‘It’s stupid,’ Anna said. ‘It just felt different to anything else. But I’m not about to go looking for him. It was about fifteen years ago. He could be living any kind of life.’
‘Any kind of unfulfilled life! Not realising you’re the one he needs to feel complete!’
‘Sarah, leave it,’ Anna said, a little sharply.
Sarah shrugged. She was good like that. When she was asked to leave something, she left it.
‘What are your plans for the rest of the evening?’ she asked.
Anna didn’t have any. ‘Do you fancy dinner?’
Sarah shook her head, her curls flying. ‘Sorry, can’t tonight. I’ve signed up for this yoga class at six in the morning and I know if we have dinner I’ll have a late one and skip it.’
‘Okay. Do you know any good Greek places? I used to go to one back in London and I’ve been having cravings for this spinach chicken thing I used to eat there.’
‘Cravings for baklava, more like. Let me think. Greek. There’s a good one in Tribeca, on Washington. And one on East Twelfth Street that I’ve heard is good, but I haven’t been there. Are you going to go alone?’
‘Yes.’
In London, Anna would never have gone out to eat alone, but in New York, she did it often. It came from necessity, she supposed. When she’d first moved here, she hadn’t known anyone, and she’d wanted to try out some of the amazing restaurants more than she’d cared about being seen eating alone. Andnow it had become a habit. She wondered whether she’d do it in London when she moved back, now it didn’t faze her.
They got up, walked to the door. The street was busy and Sarah pulled Anna around a corner onto a quieter road. She kissed her, the kind of kiss that made Anna want to beg her to change her mind about spending the evening together.
‘I hope you find your spinach chicken dream,’ she whispered in Anna’s ear, and Anna laughed. ‘See you tomorrow,’ Sarah said, and walked away.
Anna was close enough to Tribeca to walk there, so she did, dodging the people walking towards her in big groups. She loved walking in New York, loved the way the tall buildings made it feel enclosed somehow, loved the way there were always people around, no matter what time of day or night it was. She didn’t know exactly where in Tribeca Washington Street was, so she just wandered around, adding the street names she passed to her internal map. Manhattan was small enough to be manageable, to know. She was determined to know as much of it as possible in her time here. She imagined coming back, years in the future, possibly with a friend or lover, and being able to take them by the hand and say ‘I know this great place to eat around this corner’ or ‘you have to see the view from over here.’
Anna found the restaurant before she saw that she was on the right street, and soon she was inside at a small, round table, drinking water. She glanced through the menu and saw that there was something very similar to the dish she’d been thinking about, and she was so excited to eat it after so long that she starting scanning for a waiter, trying to make eye contact so she could place her order. She’d been thinking a lot about London recently, which was probably what had brought on this yearning for a particular Greek dish she’d often eaten. The job in New York seemed to be open-ended. There’d been no talk of itending, but something in her was starting to miss home. She’d only ever intended for this to be an adventure, not her life. There was no rush, and she could easily imagine herself staying for another few years, but she felt quite sure that she would settle back in London eventually. And it was nice, that knowing. It was comforting. Like being out at night, having fun, but knowing you have a home to go back to.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ the waiter asked, reaching for her plate.
‘Do you have baklava?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll have that, please. Could I take it with me?’
‘I’ll put it in a box for you.’
‘Great, thanks. The bill too then, please.’
