I drag around campus on Monday from class to class in a listless existence. I pour myself into my homework and send Mom and Dad an email with ideas and plans of what I’d like to do while in New York. I add my itinerary from the editor at The New Yorker, which includes the times I’ll be working with them, so my parents can plan to do things they’d like while I’m in meetings.
I plan out what I’m going to wear each day and hang outfits on my wall hooks, adding jewelry and shoes. I stand back and stare at each one. Bella gives me her opinion on which necklaces to take. I notice the bracelet Lane gave me on New Year’s Eve, and it throws me into a saddened state again.
There’s a knock on our door and Bella answers. “Come in.” It’s Amanda. “Hey, guys what’s up? Looks like you’re packing for your trip to New York?”
“Yes. I’m working on it.” I glance at what I have hanging up.
“Well, I came to see if I could talk to you privately for a few minutes downstairs if you don’t mind?”
“Sure.” I say, setting down the jewelry in my hand, and follow Amanda down to the library.
We sit across from each other.
“What’s up?” I ask, getting comfortable in the chair.
“Lane called me yesterday and told me what happened. You know I’ve known him for four years. I know that he’s changed this year. It’s been a good change for him, and I think it’s all because of you being in his life.”
“So, you’ve known all along that he’s a Kennedy? You warned me about him, but never told me that?” I pull a face.
Amanda moves around in her chair and looks me in the eye. “I warned you about him, because I knew how he was with Ashley. She and I were close our first two years on campus when we were roommates, and we’re still good friends. I knew those two were toxic together, but she desperately wants him for herself. She wants him because of who he is. Ashley is the niece of George Bush. Ashley, in her warped mind, thinks because she’s a Bush and he’s a Kennedy that it’s a match made in heaven. Lane saw through her.”
I roll my eyes at Amanda. “But Bush is a Republican, and the Kennedy’s are Democrats.”
“I know, but it’s still a political publicity thing. She doesn’t care who’s with what party. She wants the attention it would give her. American Royalty marries American Royalty, etc. It’s about power and prestige for Ashley.” Amanda clears her throat.
“This year Lane is different. He’s not a powerful snotty jerk like he’s been in the past. He’s matured, and I think he really wants to find himself and separate who he is personally from his family’s legacy. He wants to create his own legacy and be known for himself. That’s what I’ve noticed this year. Amanda scoots forward and looks into my eyes.
“He’s so worried about you, Rebecca. He wanted to tell you, but he worried it would change how you saw him or even how you felt about him. A lot of people just want to be around him or friends with him just because of who he’s related to. He keeps his family legacy to himself, just so that people don’t try to use him for his family’s name. Early on, when you first met, it scared him to think if he were to tell you, something might change with your relationship. He was going to tell you the night that you guys planned to watch the sunset on the beach. His feelings for you are very real. He talked to me about it for over an hour. He wants me to persuade you to talk to him and give him another chance.”
I stand, walk to the window and look out for a few seconds then turn back to Amanda. “I don’t know. Finding all of this out kinda does change the way I feel. When I think about the press chasing him with cameras and the pressure he says he’s under to be in politics and live up to what his family expects of him, it’s a lot to think about. I mean, who wants to be chased by cameras and the press for the rest of their lives? Who wants to be under a microscope all the time and have all of America in your business? I’m surprised cameras aren’t following him down here, too.”
“He has a service that alerts him and keeps him one step ahead of the press. They work with the campus police to protect his privacy. They’ve given him the ability to get into any building on campus to hide, if needed.”
When Amanda says that it dawns on me that day we were in the library when I crawled under the table to get my phone. He got under the table with me. I remember two guys with cameras getting on the elevator who seemed like they were looking for someone.
Amanda stands up and walks over to the window next to me. “Just think about it, Bex. See if you can talk to him and maybe work things out. I was so happy for you guys, especially seeing the change in Lane this year.”
“I’ll think about it, but I have a lot on my mind right now, and I’m leaving the day after tomorrow for New York.”
“I’m going to tell him I’ve talked to you and that you’re going to consider talking to him.”
Back in my room, I throw the covers over my head, trying to drown out the stress and thoughts of everything I’ve learned about Lane. I’m starting to wish I could just forget him altogether and move on to the simple life I used to have which may actually be the best thing for both of us at this point. But I don’t know what I want.
*****
I wake up and realize its Tuesday morning and I have to go to my journalism class, and I guess see Lane. I am dreading this more than anything. Bella hugs me. “I’ll be thinking about you this morning and hoping everything goes well.”
“Thank you, Bella. You’re the best.”
She gives me a thumb’s up as I walk out the door. My favorite class has turned into my most dreaded.
I walk into the familiar lecture hall and take my usual seat. Lane’s not here, yet, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I have my fingers crossed he won’t show up. But low and behold, just as I think that, he walks up next to me, waiting for me to move my feet so he can pass.
“Hi Bex,” he says hopeful.
I look up at him. Geez, why does he look so good and smell so good? I thought I could just forget about him and move on. Oh yeah, I tried that earlier in the year and failed. I quietly say, “Hi,” and move my feet out of the way. I pretend I’m busy getting stuff out of my bag and flip through pages in my notebook.
“How have you been?” he asks, staring at me.
Why does he have to talk to me? I glimpse at him. He looks so good. I can’t stand it. I’m about to freaking cry right here, right now in class. I take a deep cleansing breath and turn to face him.
“I’ve been okay. How about you?” I try to give a smile or at least a pleasant look.
“I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since we got back Saturday. I’ve been worried about you and hoping that you’re doing okay.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just trying to get ready for New York. I leave tomorrow afternoon.”
“I remember,” he says, still looking at me.
Oh my God, I want to crawl under this desk right now. I turn and look away.
Thank goodness Professor Brigg walks in and starts the lesson. Our assignment is to research articles from eight newspapers around the country. Three must be from outside the U.S. He tells us we can look up all the details of the assignment and when each portion is due online. I’ll have to look this up later, because I’m having a hard time focusing on the assignment. I had no idea how hard it would be sitting next to Lane. Trying not to look at him is not that hard but sitting this close to him when he smells amazing is torture.
When class is over, I start packing up and stand to leave. Lane reaches out for my hand. I turn and look at him. The electricity I feel with him holding my hand right now is insane. It makes me want to drop my book bag, jump into his arms and kiss him nonstop for about five years. Instead, I start to cry, turn and run up the stairs into the hall then back down the steps out of Phifer and all the way back to Phi Mu. I run inside, almost bumping into Lexi. I close the door to my room and drop my bag and sit on my bed, trying to get a grip. I hear a knock on the door.
“Bex, it’s Lexi, can I come in?”
> “Yeah, sure, Lexi, come in,” I say, trying to wipe the tears away and sit up cheery faced as she walks through the door.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay. You looked upset coming up the stairs just now.”
“Yeah, I was upset, am upset, uhm, yeah,” I stammer over my words. “I just had my class with Lane, and it was hard to be around him.”
“I’m so sorry, Bex.” Lexi sits on the bed next to me and puts a hand on my back. “You still feel angry toward him and can’t stand being around him?”
“Nope, that’s not it.” I spring up off the bed and stand in front of Lexi. “I wanted to pretty much jump his bones just now. He looked so freaking good and smelled amazing, and he reached out and touched my hand.”
Lexi is looking at me strangely. I start pacing back and forth in front of her. “He looks too good, he smells too good, he is irresistible. I’m so glad I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. I need to get him off my mind, out of my head, and out of my heart for good,” I say with animated movements, still pacing back and forth.
“Are you sure you want to do that? It sounds like you still care about him.”
I stop pacing and look at Lexi. “That’s the problem, I do care about him. I’m crazy head over heels in love with him. But I shouldn’t be.”
“Why not?” She looks earnest.
“He lied to me, and I trusted him, and it made me feel really stupid, hurt and just not good. I want to forget about him and push him out of my mind. I want to stop hurting and let these feelings go. I got in way over my head, and maybe it has more to do with the secrets I’ve kept and the lies I told my parents. It’s hard to explain, Lexi.”
49
#NYNY
Bella and Lexi walk me to my car Wednesday afternoon. We hug each other goodbye as I get in to drive to the Atlanta airport to meet my family. The funk I’ve been in is really getting old. I need to ditch the negative feelings somehow. I click open Spotify and choose Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles. I turn it up and hit the interstate to Atlanta.
I get a text from Mom telling me which park and fly lot to go to, so I can leave the car and hop on the bus to the Delta terminal. On the bus I text Mom I’ll meet them at Delta baggage check. Jogging inside, I see Mom, Dad, and Lauren standing in line and I run up to them. I hug them tight like I’ve haven’t seen them in years. It’s comforting being with my family while I’m feeling so crappy. We arrive at LaGuardia airport and take Uber to our hotel on 32nd street and Madison Avenue. Mom opens an envelope while in the Uber. “Look what came in the mail on Monday. They’re from Lane.”
I do a double take. She has tickets for Hamilton. I can’t believe it. No one is able to get tickets for that show. It’s the hottest thing on Broadway right now. But of course, Lane can get whatever he wants whenever he wants it. He’s Lane KENNEDY Townsend. As I’m thinking this, I’m glad no one can read my mind.
“Wow, that’s awesome, Mom. I thought you bought us tickets to Cats, I say staring at the tickets.
“I did, that’s tomorrow night. This show is for Saturday night.”
“Oh,” I mouth the word without making a sound and stare out the car window.
Lauren is smiling at me, clearly enjoying this conversation. I can see her reflection in the window. “That was really nice of Lane to think of us and get us tickets for a show that’s hard to get into,” Lauren says, her eyes on me.
I stick my tongue out at her when Mom isn’t looking.
After checking in, Mom suggests I take an Uber in the morning to the World Trade Center, the new structure built after 9/11, since I need to be there by 9:00. I set the alarm on my phone and set out the skirt and blouse I plan to wear. I’ll take a purse big enough to put a change of shoes inside.
I get out my kindle and snuggle up in bed reading. I hear Lauren saying good night to Mom and Dad. Then she comes back into our room. “Did you tell Lane thank you for sending us the Hamilton tickets yet?”
“No, I just found out about it a few hours ago.”
“Yeah, but you should call him.”
“I don’t want to talk to him. I’m trying to get over him, Lauren,” I say in a clipped tone.
“You’re being ridiculous and unbelievably stubborn, you know.”
“I’ll text him.” I say, closing my kindle and reaching for my phone. I give her a get-out-of-my-business-look while sending Lane a text.
TY so much for the Hamilton tickets. Mom showed them to us earlier. That was very thoughtful of u. I’m looking forward to going.
I go back to reading my book. A few minutes later my phone dings a text from Lane.
I’m glad to do it, and I hope u have a wonderful time. Good luck with your meetings at The New Yorker tomorrow.
TY, I’m have an early meeting in the morning. Goodnight.
I set my phone down and go back to my book, but now all I can think about is Lane. I try to go to sleep. I turn off the light and close my eyes, hoping for sleep to come soon.
In the morning, I’m full of excitement when I get up. My appointment today makes me feel so grown up and New Yorkerish, like I’m actually going to work at The New Yorker for real. The offices are located on the 38th floor of One World Trade Center. I get a full tour and introductions to staff and even the editor-in-chief. I hope I didn’t come across too star struck, since writers are like rock stars to me.
After the tours, I work with one of the fiction editors and cartoonists who create sketches for the publication. We have lunch on the 101st floor with astounding views of the city. I get to come back tomorrow morning to finalize the sketches and the proofs.
After lunch I meet up with Mom, Dad and Lauren, and we tour the 911 memorial. The tour is so emotional we find ourselves crying through most of it. We take the subway back to the hotel to get ready to see Cats on Broadway. Staying busy with no down time is doing me a lot of good right now.
The next morning, I knock on Mom and Dad’s door to let them know I’m leaving.
Mom opens the door quietly for me to come into their room. “Rebecca, we’re going to sleep in this morning, so just take an Uber back here when your meeting is over. You can change, then we can all go to lunch together.”
“Okay, Mom.” I say, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. My phone alerts me my Uber is downstairs and I beeline it for the elevators. I get out in front of One World Trade Center, and today I don’t have to wait in the lobby. I was told to go on up to the conference rooms. I’m excited to see the final sketch and to hear about the internship opportunity for next spring.
When I get back to the hotel at noon, I find Lauren in the bathroom putting on lip gloss.
“You’re back, thank God. I’m starving and ready to eat. I’ll go next door and get Mom and Dad while you change into something more comfortable for a long day of walking.”
She spins out of the bathroom and out the door, her shoulder length hair flipping. I hear Dad answer when she knocks.
The four of us troop out of the hotel, bounding down the sidewalk toward Central Park. We rent bikes and ride through the park to a restaurant on the water and sit at a table outside where we can watch people rowing, it’s all so tranquil.
While we’re waiting on our food to arrive Mom eagerly asks about my meeting.
“I got to meet so many editors, and I was taken around and shown the radio station pod cast area and the sketch rooms. The internship package they presented to me is in a binder back at the hotel room. I’ll need my advisor or my dean to sign off on it if I decide to take it next spring. They gave me phone numbers of the current interns and said I can call them and maybe tour the apartment where I’ll live for those eight weeks if we have time today, I’d like to do that.”
“I think we can squeeze that in,” Dad says, approvingly. “Tell us more about the internship opportunity, hon.”
“It would start at the end of February and go through the end of April. I’d be assigned to work with two editors as an assistant, so I’d have a variety of tasks.
Some of it may be busy work. But the entire experience of working at The New Yorker even for eight weeks would give me so much knowledge. I’d live with three other girls in a small apartment. I’d have to pay a portion for the rent. But they do allow us to eat for free at the restaurant on the 101st floor, and they pay for my plane ticket.
“What do you guys think? Is it possible? Would you and Mom let me do it?”
“We want to read over the packet of information they gave you first, and we’ll talk about it further with you in a few weeks. Are you still planning to bring Bella home with you for Easter?” Mom asks.
“Yes, we’ll leave next Friday after class ends and stay until Sunday afternoon before we drive back to Tuscaloosa.”
“What are Lane’s plans for Easter?” Mom smiles at me when she says this, and I feel almost like crying. I swallow hard before I answer her.
“He’s flying to New York on Friday morning and he’s supposed to fly home Sunday night, so he’ll be with family, too.” I’m glad our food arrives. Now everyone is busy chatting about the food and stuffing their mouths. I’m hoping the Lane questions have ended.
Lauren knows I don’t want to talk about Lane. She gives me a quick glance then says, “How about we return the bikes after lunch and walk over to the Metropolitan museum?”
“Oh, that sounds like a good idea.” Mom smiles. “What do you guys want to do tomorrow before we see Hamilton?”
“How about “Top of The Rock?” Lauren and I say in unison.
*****
Our plane back to Atlanta leaves at 3:30 today, and Lauren and I want to do some speed shopping at Barney’s with Mom before we leave. We make it to the airport in the nick of time, back to Atlanta at 6:00, and I drive home and sleep in my own room with my dog. I leave early on Monday for Tuscaloosa but miss my classes, anyway. I plan to look online later and see what I’ve missed. I unpack and leave a gift for Bella on her bed, so she’ll see it when she gets back from class, then I lie down for a nap. When I wake up, Bella is working on homework.
Walking the Crimson Road Page 31