`So when you got so, I don’t know, so emotionally focused on stars and planets this morning, I began to think, she’s not angry about astrology, she really is angry and unhappy about actual stars and planets. People usually only get that unhappy and angry when they’ve lost something. That’s all I could think and I couldn’t make any more sense of it than that. So I came to see if you were OK.’
Tricia was stunned.
One part of her brain had already got started on all sorts of stuff. It was busy constructing all sorts of rebuttals to do with how ridiculous newspaper horoscopes were and the sort of statistical tricks they played on people. But gradually it petered out, because it realised that the rest of her brain wasn’t listening. She had been completely stunned.
She had just been told, by a total stranger, something she’d kept completely secret for seventeen years.
She turned to look at Gail.
`I…’
She stopped.
A tiny security camera up behind the bar had turned to follow her movement. This completely flummoxed her. Most people would not have noticed it. It was not designed to be noticed. It was not designed to suggest that nowadays even an expensive and elegant hotel in New York couldn’t be sure that its clientele wasn’t suddenly going to pull a gun or not wear a tie. But carefully hidden though it was behind the vodka, it couldn’t deceive the finely honed instinct of a TV anchor person, which was to know exactly when a camera was turning to look at her.
`Is something wrong?’ asked Gail.
`No, I… I have to say that you’ve rather astonished me,’ said Tricia. She decided to ignore the security camera. It was just her imagination playing tricks with her because she had television so much on her mind today. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. A traffic monitoring camera, she was convinced, had swung round to follow her as she walked past it, and a secu- rity camera in Bloomingdales had seemed to make a particular point of watching her trying on hats. She was obviously going dotty. She had even imagined that a bird in Central Park had been peering at her rather intently.
She decided to put it out of her mind and took a sip of her vodka. Someone was walking round the bar asking people if they were Mr MacManus.
`OK,’ she said, suddenly blurting it out. `I don’t know how you worked it out, but…’
`I didn’t work it out, as you put it. I just listened to what you were saying.’
`What I lost, I think, was a whole other life.’
`Everybody does that. Every moment of every day. Every single decision we make, every breath we draw, opens some doors and closes many others. Most of them we don’t notice. Some we do. Sounds like you noticed one.’
`Oh yes, I noticed,’ said Tricia. `All right. Here it is. It’s very simple. Many years ago I met a guy at a party. He said he was from another planet and did I want to go along with him. I said, yes, OK. It was that kind of party. I said to him to wait while I went to get my bag and then I’d be happy to go off to another planet with him. He said I wouldn’t need my bag. I said he obviously came from a very backward planet or he’d know that a woman always needed to take her bag with her. He got a bit impatient, but I wasn’t gong to be a complete pushover just because he said he was from another planet.
`I went upstairs. Took me a while to find my bag, and then there was someone else in the bathroom. Came down and he was gone.’
Tricia paused.
`And…?’ said Gail.
`The garden door was open. I went outside. There were lights. Some kind of gleaming thing. I was just in time to see it rise up into the sky, shoot silently up through the clouds and disappear. That was it. End of story. End of one life, beginning of another. But hardly a moment of this life goes by that I don’t wonder about some other me. A me that didn’t go back for her bag. I feel like she’s out there somewhere and I’m walking in her shadow.’