be better?
But just as cameras failed to capture a person’s real appearance, first impressions usually didn’t reflect real character. Over the next twelve months, McKenna’s opinion of Susan evolved. At first she was drawn to Susan’s boldness. She was beautiful and magnetic and always spoke her mind. When the man who lived upstairs listened to a Dave Matthews CD on repeat one too many times, Susan managed to sneak into his apartment and swipe the offending disc. She wasn’t just funny; she was a good person. Not in a flashy show-off way; she was someone who constantly thought of others. Reaching down to help a fellow subway rider carry a stroller up the stairs. Bringing a flashlight to the widow on the third floor during a power outage. Carrying an extra umbrella on a rainy day in case a coworker forgot one. Answering the door for unannounced visits from her screwed-up sister, despite the hour. She had a big heart and a big sense of humor. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that McKenna idolized her.
Then one night McKenna found Susan—always so busy, always buzzing with energy—sitting alone on the kitchen floor, a bottle of wine in one hand, the cordless phone in another. Her father had called. There had been a fight. He was the one person who could shut Susan down with nothing but a stern glance. This time he’d gone much, much further. Joining her on the cold tile, McKenna knew she was seeing a side of Susan rarely shown to anyone.
Which side of Susan was McKenna remembering? Did she really remember her, or only snippets of time, artificially frozen in the recesses of her brain?
If she couldn’t trust her memories of Susan, how could she possibly begin to recognize the ghost on the 1-train platform, whom she’d seen only in grainy, shaky footage? She had to find that video.
She called Patrick to see if he knew anything about Skybox storage. No answer on his cell, and his secretary said he’d left work early. Just her luck to need him the one day he skipped out before five.
She heard Vance yell another warning at Dana, this time to shut up before he choked her with her own tattoos. With Dana momentarily silenced, McKenna realized that, unlike her photographer colleague, she had a backup plan. She flipped through her phone, found the incoming call from the previous day, and redialed the number. “Is this Mallory? It’s McKenna Jordan from NYC magazine. You were nice enough to send me a video clip yesterday.”
“Sure. I remember.”
“I hate to bother you, but we’re having some computer glitches on my end. Is there any way I can get it from you again?”
“Same thing with the Skybox account?”
Apparently everyone understood cyber storage except McKenna. “No, that’s where the glitch happened. I know it’s an imposition, but can I meet you somewhere in person? I’ll upload it to my laptop directly, just to make sure I don’t mess something up.”
There was a pause before Mallory responded in her low drawl. “I guess that would be okay. I’m at work. There’s a Starbucks at Forty-fifth and Sixth Avenue. Call me when you’re there, and I’ll come down.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
McKenna was pulling her jacket on when her cell phone rattled against the desk. This time she recognized Mallory’s number.
“I’m just heading out, Mallory. See you in a bit.”
“Don’t bother.”
“What do you mean?” McKenna heard her own voice jump an octave and hoped Bob wouldn’t appear, letter opener in hand.
“The girl in the next cubicle overheard the call and wanted all the details. I went to show her the video, but it’s gone.”
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“I don’t know. It’s just not there anymore.”
“Is your phone working?”
“I called you, didn’t I?”
McKenna could tell that her persistence was irritating the girl, but she didn’t understand how Mallory could erase the video and not know about it. “I’m sorry, but I really, really
But just as cameras failed to capture a person’s real appearance, first impressions usually didn’t reflect real character. Over the next twelve months, McKenna’s opinion of Susan evolved. At first she was drawn to Susan’s boldness. She was beautiful and magnetic and always spoke her mind. When the man who lived upstairs listened to a Dave Matthews CD on repeat one too many times, Susan managed to sneak into his apartment and swipe the offending disc. She wasn’t just funny; she was a good person. Not in a flashy show-off way; she was someone who constantly thought of others. Reaching down to help a fellow subway rider carry a stroller up the stairs. Bringing a flashlight to the widow on the third floor during a power outage. Carrying an extra umbrella on a rainy day in case a coworker forgot one. Answering the door for unannounced visits from her screwed-up sister, despite the hour. She had a big heart and a big sense of humor. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that McKenna idolized her.
Then one night McKenna found Susan—always so busy, always buzzing with energy—sitting alone on the kitchen floor, a bottle of wine in one hand, the cordless phone in another. Her father had called. There had been a fight. He was the one person who could shut Susan down with nothing but a stern glance. This time he’d gone much, much further. Joining her on the cold tile, McKenna knew she was seeing a side of Susan rarely shown to anyone.
Which side of Susan was McKenna remembering? Did she really remember her, or only snippets of time, artificially frozen in the recesses of her brain?
If she couldn’t trust her memories of Susan, how could she possibly begin to recognize the ghost on the 1-train platform, whom she’d seen only in grainy, shaky footage? She had to find that video.
She called Patrick to see if he knew anything about Skybox storage. No answer on his cell, and his secretary said he’d left work early. Just her luck to need him the one day he skipped out before five.
She heard Vance yell another warning at Dana, this time to shut up before he choked her with her own tattoos. With Dana momentarily silenced, McKenna realized that, unlike her photographer colleague, she had a backup plan. She flipped through her phone, found the incoming call from the previous day, and redialed the number. “Is this Mallory? It’s McKenna Jordan from NYC magazine. You were nice enough to send me a video clip yesterday.”
“Sure. I remember.”
“I hate to bother you, but we’re having some computer glitches on my end. Is there any way I can get it from you again?”
“Same thing with the Skybox account?”
Apparently everyone understood cyber storage except McKenna. “No, that’s where the glitch happened. I know it’s an imposition, but can I meet you somewhere in person? I’ll upload it to my laptop directly, just to make sure I don’t mess something up.”
There was a pause before Mallory responded in her low drawl. “I guess that would be okay. I’m at work. There’s a Starbucks at Forty-fifth and Sixth Avenue. Call me when you’re there, and I’ll come down.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
McKenna was pulling her jacket on when her cell phone rattled against the desk. This time she recognized Mallory’s number.
“I’m just heading out, Mallory. See you in a bit.”
“Don’t bother.”
“What do you mean?” McKenna heard her own voice jump an octave and hoped Bob wouldn’t appear, letter opener in hand.
“The girl in the next cubicle overheard the call and wanted all the details. I went to show her the video, but it’s gone.”
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“I don’t know. It’s just not there anymore.”
“Is your phone working?”
“I called you, didn’t I?”
McKenna could tell that her persistence was irritating the girl, but she didn’t understand how Mallory could erase the video and not know about it. “I’m sorry, but I really, really
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