Chapter One 1- Roger asked for a peppermint tea and a stroop wafel. He got it. He took the paper cup with the tea in it and went to the coffee station outside of the Starbucks place. There was no seating inside the coffee place, you just ordered and picked up. Sometimes the line would spill over into the corridor. He took the teabag out so that the tea would not become too strong. The place had two mint flavors, one was more citrusy. Citrus Mint. One of the two flavors had caffeine, one was caffeine free. He sat down on the high chair that was facing the window. The high chair in the corridor of the community college. There was always a lot of foot traffic. People going to the library and coming from the library. Well, sometimes in between classes, it was pretty quiet. He put the waffle on top of the paper cup, so that the gooey stuff within the waffle sides would melt. Apparently that is the way they do it in Holland. He just came from Amsterdam, he was at YVR in the morning, took the Canada Line to downtown, then the bus, he went to his walk-up in Kits, took a shower and then came here to the college. He has to be in class at ten thirty. It is strange to be jet lagged in American Lit class. His essay is due today, a short and not very good treatise about the city in the book that was part of the required reading. He might get a C+, hardly anything better. Not that the writing is not good, but his statements are not strong enough. His main premise was that the locale is not important for the story but he is unsure if that will fly with his prof. Roger did not really make a good case for his idea, he just states his opinion. This is a universal story; it can happen anywhere. Too thin an argument. And the prof is good at pointing out narrative holes. Disconnects in reasoning. He is way too scientific for a humanities 1 course. The course is harder than a math course. Nothing goes by the teacher. It is a literature course after all, so everything should go. Unluckily, nothing goes. He looks out at the big heap in front of the window. There are some flyers, some spring wild floras, a bush in front of the big heap. Roger is not quite sure what the heap is, some sand, building material with a tarp on it. He can see the new library or whatever that building is, the construction, the construction workers. He is jetlagged, that he can feel in every part of his body, in every bone. Well, bones do not really feel stuff or maybe they do. He is too young for arthritis maybe. He is twenty-three. His dad wanted him to be a physician like himself, like his father before him. The family business. He wants to be a writer, that seems more fun than cutting into people’s flesh. Saving lives is too trying, too bloody. Writing is very competitive though. At this point he is nothing but a glorified waiter. He works for this young upstart that flies to Amsterdam and then back to Vancouver. A KLM-wannabe. One that might go under like so many budding airlines. Like the one with the green logo. Well, he likes it, the money is good, and he sees both Amsterdam and Vancouver. Over there he has to be careful when crossing the street, it is Amsterdam after all, the bikes rule the street, they might as well run you over. And Vancouver. Well, it is different from Montreal, from Westmount. His father went actually into psychiatry, not into pediatrics, like his granddad. But still medicine, the family biz. Writing, that is a toughie. How do you construct people out of thin air? Believable people. Publishing is competitive. Who will take him on, who will miss her stop on the way to midtown. All the lit agents live in New York, and they always want you to write something that makes them miss their subway stop. Ah, he is not that kind of writer. He does not write about bloody stuff, actually all his writing is way too tame. No action. He likes to write 2 about the everyday, you cannot make a movie out of that. No potential movie rights. Time to go to class. 2. Dania is happy. Better to live in Brooklyn than in Milwaukee. The dream of an empty- nester, the life in the city. Trade your SUV for, well, the use of citybike. Or just go everywhere by foot. You do not need a car in this city, it is a city for walkers. The burbs are still in place; her house is still in its place. The semi-hoarderdom that was going on there in her old digs. The office she works in is near Chelsea, actually just opposite of Eataly. Where Fifth Avenue meets 23rd, her boss is laid-back, he does not have hair. He is younger than her. She is one of three interns, they are much younger than her. One is very aggressive; he is a student at Columbia. In his twenties, in his early twenties. Not aggressive in a physical way, nope, aggressive in a professional way. He is an aspiring writer. One of his short stories is published already. He managed to up his LinkedIn account from 82 to 500+ connections in two days. He just contacted everybody who wrote a query to the agency. And everybody, he ever met in Pittsburgh. He was from Pittsburgh or maybe Detroit. Dania usually gets out at Bedford Station to have a waffle at that Swedish bakery. And when the day is over she gets out at First Street to go to the pizzeria that has clam pizza. She pays more for the subway. She should figure out how to get a monthly pass instead of getting out of the L-train, wherever she pleases, in order to get to her favorite digs. She is a kind of reluctant New Yorker, more a disabled New Yorker. Maybe all New Yorkers are like that, they function very efficiently in some parts of their lives and very inefficiently in other parts of their lives. What do you expect from a place where everybody lives in an overpriced closet space? This is a city where you have it made if you own your own washer and dryer. Apparently Dania has not 3 arrived yet, she always uses the laundromat on Eighth. She used to live in Chelsea, on 20th, so basically she sees that place still as the center of her NYC universe, everything is kind of measured in how near or how far it is from Ziggy’s apartment. That was the place she sublet back in 2008. Dania loves everything New York. She feels at home here. Seems, a lot of people feel at home here. Eight million. There is something about New York that makes you feel at home the minute you step off the boat. Everyone here is a fob. You are either a fob or a boring New Yorker. That is how the born and bred refer to themselves. Apparently everybody is kind of ashamed of that New Yorker cartoon that portrays the quintessential New Yorker as oblivious to the rest of the world. Dania ponders, maybe she should write a book. Or a blog. Tourist in my own city. Technically she is not from here but then, who is? Everybody is a fob. Once you pick up a Lonely Planet you can figure out this city. Once you had a tv. The odd couple is her favorite NYC movie. Dania plucks herself in front of Macy’s. The weather is nice; Herald Square is beaming. She has a hot dog. So very New Yorkish. Though real New Yorkers might shop at Dean & Deluca. Which is out of her league. The gourmet route is more what she did back in Milwaukee. The suburban housewife route. That went well with her silverpolishingish lifestyle. 3. Nick is a successful writer. Many of his books have been made into movies. Fame is difficult for Nick. Success makes for paparazzi. He moved to Zurich, to the outskirts of it. Kuessnacht. He can walk by the Limmatquai without being recognized. He always watches over his shoulder. He loves New York. But he now has to live in this exile. There are things worse 4 than being exiled to Zurich. If he was a successful plumber his life would have been easier. Writing is such a weird profession. And a so very solitary one. He is not the one that goes to coffee shops. He likes the isolation of the writer’s studio. He writes best while CNN is singing its songs to him. He makes sure that he stays fit. He goes for runs. Long long runs. His knees are giving out. He should hike. He is kind of addicted to running, he likes the fastness, the bobbing up and down. His brain jumping up and down in his skull. Maybe it is not good for his brain. He does not know. Maybe he has early-onset dementia. He is a novel writer. He does not need a well-functioning brain. A middle-of-the-road brain should be just fine. 4. She sits in front of the typewriter and draws these characters. Roger, Nick and Dania.