the book into the front pocket of my holdall, thinking that it was the one thing I had that linked my childhood self to the adult me. Then I retrieved my old running shoes from the back of the closet, changed, and left the house through the kitchen. I jogged through the vegetable garden and opened the back gate that led upwards towards the mountains.
I followed the path I’d last used ten years ago, and even though I went to the gym regularly, my legs ached and the last few metres were tough. I scrambled over boulders and slipped over damp, tough grass, but finally, I got there.
Panting hard, I stepped onto the rocky outcrop that represented only the foothills of the mountains still rising behind me, but had the most spectacular vista of the lake. I looked down on the rooftops of Atlantis, and with the advantage of all the therapy I’d had, realised why this view had been so special for me when I was younger: Atlantis had been my universe when I was young – all-encompassing – and yet up here it looked like a doll’s house – tiny and insignificant.
It gave me perspective, I told myself as I dangled my legs over the edge of the ridge. It even made me feel small.
I sat there for some time, enjoying what really was a fabulous day. Out on the lake, I saw what looked like a toy boat, its sail rippling in the breeze, gliding smoothly across the water. And suddenly, I didn’t want to go back down to reality, I wanted to stay right up here where no one could find me. I felt free and the thought of flying back to New York and the man-made mountains of Manhattan made my gut churn. There, everything was false and greedy and meaningless, while everything here was real and pure and clean.
‘Jeez, Electra, you’re starting to sound like Tiggy,’ I reprimanded myself. But even if I was, what did it matter? All I knew was that I was desperately unhappy, and that I envied each of my sisters their new full and happy lives. When Ma had talked about all of them bringing their new partners and friends and relatives to Atlantis, I’d felt even more lonely because I had no one I’d even think of bringing.
As I stood up, knowing I had to go back down simply because I’d stupidly forgotten to bring a water bottle with me and I was thirsty, I took one last look at the view.
‘How come I’m meant to have everything, but feel like I have nothing?’ I asked the mountains above me.
As I jumped off the ridge, I realised that somehow I needed to get myself a real life – and some love. But where I should begin to look for it, heaven – and maybe Pa within it – only knew.
In the days that followed once I was back in New York, I took the memory of how good I’d felt after my trek up the mountain at Atlantis and began to run in Central Park whenever my schedule allowed it. The good news was, even if anyone spotted me, I could out-pace them, no problem. I also tried to limit my alcohol intake and – maybe it was due to the running and the natural high I got from it – I didn’t feel the need to do so much coke. If I felt panicky, I opened the book of Telegraph crosswords I’d had delivered, and did one of those instead to calm myself.
In short, I felt a little more in control.
The only thing that was bugging me was that even though I’d searched my whole apartment, I couldn’t find Pa’s letter anywhere. I racked my brain to try and remember where I’d put the envelope when I’d moved into this place. I’d even had Mariam on the case too.
‘Oh Electra, we must find it,’ she’d said, her expressive eyes full of sympathy as she’d knelt down to let rip on my lingerie drawers.
‘Hey, I’m not saying I want to read it even if I do find it, but it would be good to know it’s there.’
‘Of course it would. They were his last words to you and I am sure they were words he wanted you to read. Do not worry, Electra, we will find it.’
But after searching through every drawer, closet, coat pocket and scrap of paper in the apartment, even Mariam’s positivity had waned.
‘Don’t worry