Alex to Piper (4)

Sunday, April 27

Hey Pipes, how's it going?

I'm writing to you today from Nic's place. Your letter arrived yesterday and I brought it with me to the bar so I can reply. It's a usual Sunday in NYC for me, drinking coffee and trying to catch up with Nicky whilst she runs the bar.

I'm glad you liked the Portuguese bookshop. If you get the opportunity, you also need to look up photos of Libreria Acqua Alta. This one's in Venice. Don't bother reading any of the blurb about it, just do an image search. I can fill you in on the details. The name translates roughly to "Bookstore of High Water" and most of the books inside are shelved in bathtubs and basins, rowboats and waterproof bins and in one room, actually in a gondola. Venice is prone to flooding and when the high water – the acqua alta – comes, it can rise several inches inside the store, so they try to protect the books by using practical shelving. It's such a great idea and it looks amazing. The shop in Porto isn't somewhere I've ever visited and neither is this place in Venice. One day though. One day.

Your camp (base?) sounds pretty big if it houses so many people. Sucks about the phones and internet, though. Twenty computers is nowhere near enough for a thousand people. What the fuck? How are you meant to keep in touch with people? Well, by letter obviously, but how is that considered adequate? It just seems wrong to me. It's a good job you like receiving letters, it seems that you have no other option for maintaining contact with home. Can you tell me any more about what it's like there? I'm trying to build a picture of it in my mind's eye, but I'm struggling. I understand if you can't tell me anything because of security, that's okay. I'm just curious.

As for curiosity… okay, I'll satisfy yours. My store is called "Arts & Minds" and you'll find us on West 10th. To save you any difficulty in Google stalking, the phone number is 646-555-5212 and my cell is 917-555-0112. I'm pretty sure Google Maps isn't a live feed though, so you're not going to be able to check out any of the "hot young things" (as you put it) who grace my store. I must admit, it's a definite perk of the job! :)

You're big with the tough questions, Pipes, you know that? Let me get right down to it and tackle the family one first. This is probably about as far removed from your upbringing in Preppy Central as it's possible to get. I have no brothers or sisters, there's just me. Growing up, it was just me and my mom. Her and my dad were never anything serious, he was in a band, she was effectively a groupie. They hung out and hooked up a few times when his band were playing here and by the time she found out she was pregnant with me, the band had moved on to the next city in the tour and that was that. She tried to get in touch with him to let him know, but he wasn't interested. He was moving on to bigger and better things than a knocked up twenty-year-old in the Bronx. Mom worked hard to take care of me, to make sure I had everything I needed. She worked three jobs for as long as I can remember, we always had a roof over our heads and I never went hungry. She did some days, I realise now, but I never did. We were a team, my mom and I. She was my best friend. As long as we had each other, I knew we'd be okay. Then when I was twenty, she got out of bed one morning and dropped down dead. Aneurism. Gone, just like that.

So that was nine years ago and, to answer your other question, if I could close my eyes and open them again and be anywhere else at all? Truth: it'd be sitting on the battered couch in our run-down shitty apartment in the Bronx with my mom, just so I could tell her how much I love her, just one last time.

Sorry you asked now, huh? :)

But wait, it doesn't end there… two years after mom died, I was pretty fucked up. As I already said, my life was floundering and I'd gone off the rails. I'd made some bad choices, done things I'm not proud of, when out of the blue I was contacted by a lawyer from South Carolina. Seems dear old daddy had also shuffled off this mortal coil, but in rather spectacular fashion. He was found with a tourniquet around his bicep, a needle in his arm, and veins full of a particularly high grade of heroin.

I didn't give a shit. I didn't know the guy, I never met him, I never really wanted to. When I was a kid I thought it was kinda cool that my dad was a rock star, I used to tell the other kids in school to try and score some cred (it didn't work), but that was all. I had my mom, I didn't need him too. Mom was always honest with me about him and so when it came down to it, it wasn't a loss I mourned. He was a stranger to me.

Thing is though, it turned out that ol' Lee may have had some regrets about not making things right with his kid and maybe even a conscience, because when it came down to it, the guy had made provisions for me in his will. Can you believe it? Nobody was more shocked about this than me. I didn't think he even knew my name! So there I was, still bereft about losing my mom, broke, living on Nicky's couch, doing things I still don't like admitting to, my life in the gutter and then I find out the jerk who never wanted any part of my life left a provision for me in his will, to the tune of one point two mil.

Like I told you, it was a turning point for me. I got my shit together, blew it on some prime real estate and I haven't looked back. I still miss my mom every day, but I think she'd be proud of what I've done with my life since she passed.

I'm back home again now. I left the bar about twenty minutes ago when Nic kicked me out. Apparently she likes chatting with me on a Sunday afternoon, not watching me hunched over the table scribbling letters, and who sends letters these days anyway, haven't I heard of email? I didn't get into it with her, I just came home. :)

I'm sitting in my living room, overlooking the street. I had a window seat put in when I renovated, so I'm propped up there with far too many cushions and with the sash window open to let in some air. I have coffee beside me and good intentions to get this letter finished tonight so I can send it off tomorrow.

I've just read back through everything I've written so far and am now doubting whether I should send this at all, or just scrap it and start again, leaving out all of the heavy family stuff. Maybe our twenty questions should stick to things like your favourite colour, favourite food and your secret crush! (Green, rare steak, Emma Watson).

Fuck, I can't believe I've told you all of that, but you did ask. My turn now, okay? I'm still aware of the unanswered question about why you joined up, but here are three more. What is your favourite colour? Okay, okay no. Seriously.

I was really impressed with your reason for choosing nursing as a career, by the way. Taking such a big decision like that and dropping what you were doing to pursue a different path takes guts. How did it go down with your parents? For that matter, how do they feel about you serving in the military? Your Gram sounds like she was Good People, it's a special thing to have someone supportive and accepting like that in your life. She clearly made a lasting impression on you, as did the nurses who cared for her.

The story about Nic and I meeting and getting arrested is one I'm going to keep under my hat. I need to have SOME secrets, Piper. How else do I keep up the air of mystery that keeps you interested in me, huh? ;)

Let me consider your final question in your last letter, shall I? If you hadn't ABANDONED me three days after meeting me and you'd accepted my offer of a drink – which you DID, for the record, it's just on hold - where would I have taken you? Hmm. I don't know, where would you want to go? More to the point, would it have been a casual drink or would it have been a date? I think I need to know the answer to this before I can give you an answer, I wouldn't want to misread the entire thing and make a fool of myself. I mean, if I were to think it was a date and then you turn up with your long-term girlfriend on your arm, then I would feel very foolish indeed. Best to clear these things up beforehand.

These letters are getting longer with each one we write, you know. It's an interesting way of getting to know you though and I look forward to your letters arriving. The next one you send me will be number three, which going by your previous form, could well be the last. I hope that I do a little better than your Swedish pen pal and you think we maybe do have some things in common. If nothing else, we could continue writing to give you chance to find out for certain…

I hope this letter finds you well, Piper. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like over there. Stay safe, rest when you can, and know that I'm thinking of you.

Alex

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