"What the fuck, Luis? You can't fire me!" Phoebe shouted at the top of her lungs from the manager's office. "I've done nothing wrong!"
Luis didn't seem to give a rat's ass about the racked state the girl was in.
"I beg to differ," he said rather calmly in contrast to Phoebe's shaky voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Don't play dumb. You're lucky this is as bad as it's going to get for you."
"Please, I don't know what you think it is I've done. But don't let me go." Don't cry. Phoebe was not only begging Luis, she was begging to herself not to break down in pieces. Undefeated. Remain undefeated. "I swear, you're mistaken!"
"You think you can get away with stealing a customers phone?" It was then when Luis did raise his voice as well.
She took a step back as her confusion grew.
"What?"
"Another server saw you take it."
Kaylee.
"She's lying!" Phoebe blurted out.
"Even if she was, you already got arrested once. Yeah, I also heard about that. We do not stand for this kind of behavior. So don't bother coming back."
Luis pushed her out of his small office, seeing that she showed no intent to back down on her own. He closed the door on her face the second she was at the other side.
"I did not get arrested!" She shouted again, pounding on the door. Overwhelmed, and blinded so much by her hopelessness, that she didn't care if she was making a scene.
Peter obviously heard all of the commotion. Once it was over, he watched Phoebe storm out the restaurant and into the lobby.
"Phoebe wait!" He called out.
"There's nothing to do, Peter." Phoebe's reddened eyes when she turned to face him saddened him. "I'm sorry it turned out like this. But I did not do what they're saying."
"I know," he said with sincerity, which was at least a bit of a consolation to Phoebe. "I'll try to get you your job back. I promise."
She turned around again when the elevator opened and drearily walked inside.
"You shouldn't promise," she told him before the doors closed again.
More than worried, she was angry. Ragingly so. And in a way, it was also opening an old wound. There was only one place she could think to go at that very moment. Where there was a person who, contrary to the usual, could likely be the only one capable of calming her down this time.
"I need to see him," Phoebe said to the receptionist the second she'd arrived to the 105th floor.
Gina took a minute to answer, distracted and intrigued by the girl's anxious tugging at the hem of her T-shirt.
"He's not here yet, but you can wait in his office," she said gently. "He'll be back soon."
Though she had been there only once, Phoebe walked into his office like it was home. She dropped her bag on one of the chairs, and sort of stood idly for a long while, trying to recover her breath and get her blurry sight back to normal.
Phoebe sniffled and finally let go of the shirt.
She could then start to really take a glance at the sterile-looking room she was in. If it weren't for the lack of surgical equipment, it would have almost felt like an operating room.
Without him there, and in need of some distraction, it was the perfect chance to snoop and notice all the details that had gone over her head the last time.
Like the frames on the wall. There were no photos, only diplomas and things of the sort.
His Harvard Law School suma cum laude diploma and Juris Doctor certificate, his MBA. It all indicated that he'd spent a little over half of his life studying. The other half, working.
No wonder he was loaded. He had the brains and the incentive. Although he likely already came from big money. He'd attended Harvard, and each time Phoebe heard that word she imagined mansions upstate or in New England, and Newport clubs.
Phoebe circled around the office, sinking down on his padded leather chair, which further helped to relax her. She spun the chair 180 degrees to the view offered by the characteristic thin, vertical windows of the Twin Towers, that were almost reminiscent of the embrasures in a castle.
The windowsills held a few tokens, such as a baseball, a small scale—representative of the Law—, and a model of an old metallic airplane.
The plane caught her attention due to the amount of realistic detail, so she grabbed it to take a closer look at it.
Since Walter was taking longer than expected, Phoebe didn't know what do do to entertain herself other than play around with the plane. She definitely would not touch any of the documents on the desk.
Just as she was pretending to fly it through the air, the door opened and closed behind her.
"Please, put that down where it was."
The plane almost fell from her grip, making Walter's heart skip a beat for a second. But Phoebe was able to place it back where it was, more or less. Afterwards, she chuckled shakily.
Walter didn't appear to be pleased with the way she had placed it, because he immediately went over to the windowsill to move it a few inches and change the direction the plane was facing.
Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek as she observed his impeccable sense of organization and harmony. A trait of his that in no way she could relate to.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" Walter asked when he was satisfied with the arrangement. "Shouldn't you be upstairs?" He could already sense the gloom floating over her.
"Not anymore. I'm here to accept your offer." Phoebe's face changed completely. He could feel the rage in her, but this time it wasn't directed at him. So instead of making her get off from his chair like he'd originally planned to, Walter symphatized by moving one of the other chairs next to her and sitting on it before paying full attention
"What do you mean not anymore? What happened?"
It was a tired, defeated veil that reigned over her gaze. Lowered eyelids that made her, otherwise large eyes, look as small as a trapped mouse's.
"She did it. She got me fired."
Walter's eyes doubled in size in return when hearing such wrongful news.
"How on Earth did she do that?"
"She told the manager about the trouble I got into last year, and also told him that I stole the phone from a client. She doesn't believe I could have a StarTAC any other way."
Walter stood and put the chair back in its place.
"I'm going up there right now to tell them what really happened with the phone."
"And what are you going to do about the other thing? Because they are going to ask about it, and I might did not get arrested in the end, but all else did actually happen."
She managed to hold him back with this, but Walter still didn't look ready to let it go.
"We can't just do nothing about your job. Don't you want justice?"
"I can't deal with this now. With Kaylee. She'll stop at nothing to keep fucking me over no matter what."
He showed his understanding with a solemn sigh, then walked back to Phoebe again with his hands inside his pockets and subdued steps.
"So this is why you suddenly accepted."
Phoebe didn't finalize the deal just yet, putting her hand up in front of him. She needed to make sure of something first.
"Just to be clear; you don't expect me to give anything in return, right? And by anything I mean... myself."
"Absolutely not! I know I'm not exactly your favorite person, but I can't believe you would ever think I'd ask that of you."
"I'm sorry," Phoebe said, showing her embarrassment in the way she avoided looking at Walter. "I don't want to be seen as weak by doing this. But I can't bring today's news home. I just can't." Her bottom lip quivered.
"You don't need to justify yourself. And you're not weak. I know it's taken you a lot of courage and willpower to come to me." He could see her features tremble, foreseeing a breakdown. To attempt to drive it away, he crouched down in front of her and brought reassurance. "I won't let you down."
10 years ago
1987
A single red curl poked over the couch, but no one was in the right state of mind to notice such a small detail and realize that the last person who should be witnessing the scene was right there.
"Get outta my way, Carlo. We're leaving today, it's final."
A less big and more dark-haired Carlo stood his ground against the front door.
"No, it's not! You can't just up and leave when things get tough. We can all work through it better if we stay together." Carlo pointed at the woman at the end in the room, who was looking anywhere but ahead. "Look at her—Joanna doesn't want to leave."
"It's not her call and it sure as hell ain't yours!"
Carlo only remained silent for a few seconds.
"What about Phoebe?"
The other man scratched his overgrown stubble, which was turning into a full-on beard. "Children adapt to any circumstance."
"They don't."
"Carlo, step outta the way, or so help me God, I will cave in your giant nose!"
Phoebe ran out from her hiding place to lean on her uncle in a half embrace. Her short arms couldn't reach far enough to fully circle around him.
"Daddy, don't hurt uncle Carlo!"
"It's alright, bambina. Your daddy wouldn't do that," Carlo shot daggers with his eyes in direction of the man puffing smoke on their faces. "right?"
Her dad put out the cigarette directly against the floor of the house.
He arched down just to take a hold of Phoebe in his arms, which wasn't as easy anymore, as she was almost eight years old.
He freed his other hand just for a minutes as he dragged Joanna out of the half-empty house, pushing past Carlo. Who was begging God not to let him beat up the other man right in front of his wife and daughter.
Both mother and daughter were practically shoved into the rusty, dark green Chevy.
Phoebe looked through the dirty window at the hopeless expression on her uncle's face under the falling snow.
It was the last she would see of him and the rest of her family for another decade.
12 January 1997
"What's wrong?"
Walter took notice of Phoebe being awfully quiet and looking down at her breakfast the whole time time.
It was another snowy Sunday. Early morning and no house arrest to hold her captive anymore.
She didn't need to fake being at work because of it being Sunday, but they'd met up at Megan's Bagels again to discuss the specifics of Walter's ‘generosity’.
However, her reluctance to speak any word at all wouldn't make it easy.
Dealing with teenager attitude was not his forte. In fact, he had no experience with it at all, other than while he was growing up.
"Alright, first ground rule: no more of... This." He gesticulated in her direction. "I want you to be open with me. I already told you that you can trust me."
Phoebe observed the snow at the other side of the window, leaning the side of her face on one hand and looking miserable.
"Tomorrow's my birthday."
At first, it confused him to see her upset over that, but he soon realized it must have been associated with a bad memory.
"And let me guess, you don't want to talk about it."
"Not particularly, no."
"Well, I don't know about your past birthdays. But this one's going to be different."
"How so?" She asked quickly, changing her attention from the window to him.
"Anything you want. Name it." Walter scratched his chin. "Other than the thousands of dollars I'm already giving you." He laughed.
Phoebe already knew what she wanted before he made the suggestion.
"I only want one thing."
"What's that?"
"Company," she stated clearly but shyly for him.
"What about your family?"
Walter obviously didn't get what she really meant. Perhaps she should have specified, but couldn't find it in herself to stoop so low. So she followed along with the established subject of her birthday.
"They'll be busy all day until the evening." Phoebe pursed her lips momentarily. "They'll throw me a quick, small party at dinnertime and that's it."
Walter took a napkin to wipe the ring of spilled coffee that Phoebe's cup had left after she picked it up while he contemplated her request.
He looked up and nodded.
"Ok. Done." When Walter agreed, she almost seemed to come alive again. "Now, eat your breakfast," he told her, pointing at the neglected plate of food in front of Phoebe.
The good thing was that nobody else knew it was her birthday. There was no fuss about it at school, which she was thankful for.
Phoebe hadn't confronted Kaylee even once since she'd gotten her fired. It wasn't worth it, Phoebe was sure of that.
It wasn't easy to ignore the conceited looks she received from Kaylee all throughout the day, though. Kaylee kept holding her chin up high as though looking down at her from a place that Phoebe would never be able to reach.
But Phoebe now had something Kaylee would kill for. So for that reason alone, she considered herself luckier than the annoying girl.
The redhead's custom of counting her blessings was especially strong, now more than ever.
She'd lost her job, but she had also gained something in return. And that something wasn't really the money.
When she exited the school with a smile on her face after talking to her friends, Phoebe's something was there near the main entrance. Waiting casually against a classic silver car. And, without novelty, smoking.
He put it out when he saw her stride towards him, gripping tightly onto the straps of her backpack. She didn't look happy anymore.
"What are you doing here?!" She asked, moving her head from one direction to the other, worried about her surroundings.
"I'm your gift, remember? You said you didn't want to spend the day alone." Phoebe's tensed shoulders relaxed downward. Walter opened the car door and tilted his head. "Get in."
Phoebe breathed out, wondering if she would have been better off asking for something else.
You get what you wish for.
She got in without resistance and didn't even think to take a glance at her surroundings once more before doing so. Something that would have been a good idea.
He closed the door for her and promptly sat at the wheel, taking a turn to drive away from the school grounds.
"Nice ride. Yours or rented?"
"My first car."
Phoebe stumbled in her words. "Y—This was your first car?!" Walter nodded. "My God, you're old."
He thought she'd been impressed by the car's blatant luxury not by its age, so he sneered.
"Hey, I got it in 1971, not 1921."
"I was born in '79. So yeah, by my standards, you're old." Phoebe contemptuously blew a raspberry at him. Walter responded with a sour grunt. "Where we going?"
Truthfully, Walter had a really hard time wracking his brain the day before and up until recently, trying to come up with how to spend a stranger's birthday. When normally, he was great at planning ahead. Phoebe's spontaneity must have been affecting him.
"Uh," he mumbled. "Thought Central Park could be nice."
"It's Monday, though. You should be at work."
"I checked in in the morning but called the afternoon off."
"You're going to be the next one out on his ass," Phoebe said, half jokingly and half with honest concern. She wondered to what extent she might have been altering his schedule or causing him trouble.
"Are you kidding? I practically live at that office. They're not going to fire me for ‘missing’ a few hours."
Central Park was covered in white, except the pathways. Although there was still a certain amount of snow over some areas, and it made a subtle crunching noise when stepped upon.
It was busy, as usual, but not packed. Phoebe wouldn't know the difference. As crazy as it might sound, she never really had the chance she or incentive to visit the park until then.
Walter once again was offered the spectacle of witnessing New York as if for the first time, through the eyes of an intriguing outsider.
They started off on more or less the middle of the park, going south—it would have taken too long to cross it entirely and they would have frozen to death trying.
Phoebe stopped at every landmark, no matter how simple or trivial. She even pointed out an affinity for the scrawny look of the bare tree branches. It was becoming quite obvious that winter was her favorite season, despite possibly bringing up grim memories.
Unfortunately, the snow didn't allow for many of the activities typical of Central Park. However, there was one activity that was benefited by such weather.
"Let's skate!" Phoebe gleefully suggested when she saw the sign of the Wollman Rink.
Walter shook his head immediately. "You go."
"Oh, afraid you might break your hip, old man?"
He breathed out loudly.
"You know, it's actually you who's turning older today. So why don't you quit calling me old?"
"As if."
Phoebe pinched the hem of his coat's sleeve as she walked over to the skate rental, urging him to participate.
If it had been anyone else, even someone close to him, forcing him to do something outside of his comfort zone, he would've snatched their grip right away even if it meant making them stumble over. Then why was he allowing himself to be yanked around by the girl who kept acting smart with him and that he barely knew?
With his skates on, Walter clumsily began trying to catch up with Phoebe, who was well ready to dance circles around him. Once again, he looked like a fish out of water. It was truly as if he never did anything other than work, or wear anything other than suits and oxfords. Phoebe naturally cackled at his expense.
"Need a hand?" When she saw that he definitely did, she started to gingerly get away from him. "On second thought, you might drag me down with you. So don't get anywhere near me."
Walter began trying to chase her decisively.
"Ah!" She squealed. "What are you doing? Stay away!"
"If I fall, I'm taking you with me," he said with malicious intent.
Walter managed to reach her and place his hand on her forearm for support.
"That's not fair!" Phoebe complained, but did nothing to shake his grip off this time. She let him hang on, restricting her to skate at a snail's pace.
Walter couldn't believe she was allowing his hand to remain there. And not only that, but actively helping him as well, telling him how to take control of his uncoordinated legs.
It ended up being far more entertaining to skate that way instead of freely roaming around. Which was truly unexpected as well. And why, when Walter stopped holding onto her, Phoebe felt uncomfortable without that weight there.
"I think I have the hang of it now. Thanks." Walter was trying too hard to sound confident, which gave the girl a sense of uneasiness.
"Are you sure?"
Walter nodded, but kept close to her just in case. She never picked up the pace and skated away from him. They both went in laps side by side without doing anything fancy, unlike the showoffs around them. They were more interested in having chat and taking in the fascinating sights that came with being in a winter wonderland forest surrounded by a city.
Walter decided to take a break about ten minutes later, searching for support on the rink's railing.
He was thinking about what he could talk to her about that wouldn't set her off.
When she leaned on the railing too, and he saw her attentively assessing the views again, Walter decided he wanted to learn to what extent the city was unknown to her.
"When did you arrive in New York?"
This was a question she could deal with. As long as he didn't try to dig any deeper like last time, it would all go smoothly.
"July last year. It was all really abrupt, but I miraculously got that job soon after and it helped a lot. Which is why losing it sucks big time."
"I remember when I lost my job for the first time too. It's a drag, but sometimes it works out for the better." It sounded like he was speaking from personal experience. "You don't need that job now. So don't worry."
"Yeah, but it's not that. I felt worthwhile. Now I'm just another one of those girls taking advantage of a rich man." Phoebe's chuckle was more of a self-loathing scoff.
"You need to stop talking about yourself as if you were a doormat. You just became an adult today—doesn't mean that what's expected of you right now is to carry the entire world on your shoulders."
Her broken spirit, showing through downturned lips, was mitigated into a heartened smile and soft, alleviated eyes.
If his smooth voice was capable of enlivening someone as emotionally crippled as her, Phoebe imagined she could very dangerously anchor to him in search for more uplifting.
It was a daunting thought. Demanding anything else from him would be highly unfair.
Her problems were hers to deal with. Walter most definitely should have no involvement whatsoever. It would be opening—no—spilling a can of worms.
"Let's go around one more time. I'm getting cold," Walter said, placing his hand against her back to impulse her forward.
When that last lap around the rink was over with and Walter was heading out, a deep scratch in the ice made by someone else's blades earlier made him trip over. It was a hard fall, so Phoebe didn't think twice about rushing to his side.
"Holy shit! Are you all right, Mr. Cooperman?"
Phoebe bent down as he tried to prop himself up. She took him by the arm to help him.
"I'm fine," he responded rapidly.
However, when she observed him attempt to stand on his skates again and continue on his way out, it was clear by his unsteady posture that something was off.
Phoebe followed him and was the first one to take the skates off in order to help him with his, seen as he was struggling to get rid of them.
The girl crouched down in front of the bench.
"Let me," she told him.
"No, I can do it." He kept grimacing as he tugged on the right foot. "Ah, my knee," he complained as his hand gripped said place.
"I dragged you into this. It's my fault."
"It's not." Walter retreated his hands and let hers replace them instead. "Seriously, it's not that bad. I'm just a wimp," he joked.
Normally, she would have agreed, but Phoebe was feeling too meek and content that day not to be lenient.
"Stay here a moment," Phoebe said when she finished, walking away.
She returned holding two steaming cups in her hands and a white paper bag between her teeth. As soon as she handed him one of the cups, Phoebe dropped the bag on the table.
"I got us hot chocolate." Her voice was sheepishly apologetic, as though expecting the beverage to cure his pain and make up for it.
"What's in the bag?" He asked, turning in his seat to face the table.
"Bagel bites. And a tube of Arnica. Turns out they're sold like candy here."
Walter made a short chuckle before taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together.
She sat across him, opening the bag to offer him both the bagel bites and the cream.
He decided to apply some of it on his knee right then.
"Were you having a nice time up until now?" He asked while he waited for the chocolate's temperature to diminish a little.
"I am still having a nice time," she admitted. "I'm really sorry you hurt yourself, though."
"Don't worry about it. I may be a wimp, but I'm not made of glass." He finally was able to take seriousness out of the equation, relaxing Phoebe's worry. "I'm just glad my company could live up to your expectations."
Phoebe bit her lip in reflex, deciding whether to bring up the true intentions behind her request for company.
"You know... I didn't mean it for just today."
"Huh?"
"Well, I was kinda hoping you'd agree to, um, let me tag along with you. Just to actually have somewhere to be while I pretend to be at work."
She was already regretting opening her mouth after realizing he was taking too long to answer.
"I don't know, Phoebe..."
"The Port Authority headquarters are in the towers," she began to say desperately. "What if my uncle decides to drop by to check in on me?"
Walter's sigh indicated that he'd given in.
"Fine. I'm sure we can work something out."
"You mean it?"
Her tone was overly-insistent, leaving her lips like a hopeful plea.
"Yes," Walter responded impatiently. "Oh, I almost forgot." Walter reached into his pocket and then gave Phoebe the small object.
"You really didn't have to get me anything."
He waved his hand in dismissal.
It was a 2Pac cassette tape. For a second she wondered how someone like him would even know to get her hip-hop music. But then she thought back at how she had been wearing a t-shirt of Tupac every week after his death and Walter must have caught up with that.
His attention to detail and observation skills were the most refined she'd ever seen coming from any man.
"Thank you." The words left her mouth with some effort. They felt stuck to her throat, and on delivery, sounded like a trembly mess. "I'll listen to it tonight."
"Happy birthday, Phoebe."
"It is." Phoebe showed a truly appreciative and joyful sentiment through her wide smile. "It's a happy birthday."
Walter had never seen her direct such an unfeigned cordiality toward him. It was a welcoming sensation that was able to warm him up despite the freezing air.
"I'm very glad."
Amazingly, the rest of the evening did not entirely live up to that afternoon with Walter. It was a nice birthday dinner, yes. And she loved being with her family, especially because she didn't get to do it much. But Phoebe hadn't been as worry-free as she had been earlier that day in a long time. It was like being a kid all over again. The only thing that ruined it, though not entirely, was Walter hurting his knee. He told her not to worry over and over again, that it would be fine with just some rest. And he insisted on not blaming herself for it.
Something he did not confide in her was that he'd almost expected her to burst out in laughter as soon as he fell. He thought he must have looked like some sort of pathetic old man to her. After all, ‘old’ was the word she kept using on him. But he was pleasantly surprised that what she did instead was go to his aid immediately. He was getting to know another side of Phoebe. A kind heart behind the snide, impolite façade she wrapped herself in.
But why did she feel the need to be wrapped in it? That was what Walter wished to find out. It would be hard to do so. He was little more than a stranger to her. Phoebe wouldn't easily let him in on it, and under normal circumstances he would never think to pry. He wouldn't care to know to start with.
However, by involving an issue like anti-Semitism in between their 'relationship', she had indirectly entangled him in her life and made it feel personal. As though somehow, the reason behind it was his business too. And that he could not let her continue down that same path the rest of her life—he had to pull her out of it. He'd never felt such an impulse to help another person in his whole life, so now that he did, Walter could not ignore it even if he wanted to. Phoebe was an unprecedented breach of his monotonous life. A lifestyle that he enjoyed precisely because of that order.
So, what was one to do when bumping into one such person amidst the same crowded city that day after day he woke up in? There were enough people in those human waves along the streets for one to become invisible, unimportant. And yet, out of all of them, Phoebe became significant.
To Walter, at least.
Something similar was happening to her.
Though, while hard to admit for Walter, for Phoebe it was straight up unthinkable.
There was no way she would ever admit to him being someone so important in her life.
But the next day she would find out just how much his company was worth to her.