Graduates in Wonderland

by Jessica Pan

  Finally, on their last day here, I sent them to a rock climbing gym in the middle of nowhere even though I knew it would take them half the day to get there and back. They didn’t love the gym, but it was totally worth my three-­hour nap of uninterrupted bliss. Then we all went out for some baguette sandwiches.

  They both still love comic books and ironic T-shirts. I wished that I could fall in love with them because it was fun being with witty American guys and being able to banter fluently. That said, I was thrilled when they left.

  New measure of love: letting someone stay with you for an extended amount of time and not having it drive you insane.

  But my biggest news is: I got the funding for UCL! Now I’ll only be one hundred thousand dollars in debt! This means I’ll be living on twenty-­five thousand dollars a year in London—­not enough for celebratory champagne, but enough for cheap boxed wine. I’ll still be working for American Prep, though, so I’ll get to teach wealthy British teenagers how to write like straight-­A American students (they can teach me how to address a duke).

  Oh! And Rosabelle e-mailed me—­she’s coming back from Argentina for law school in the States. Are we ALL just putting off our inevitable destinies as attorneys by staying abroad for a few more years?

  Love,

  Ithaca is Gorges

  P.S. Tyler says he’s sorry he never replied to your Facebook message.

  JULY 18

  Jess to Rachel

  Careful what you wish for—­you could become a lawyer in London, and if you do, you have to wear one of those stupid wigs.

  But seriously, do you think you’ll be in London for a long time? I don’t know how many more times I can uproot my life. I’m beginning to think that all of the energy we’ve taken relocating to new places should be put toward creating a life that’s sustainable. Otherwise we’re going to be sixty and all of our possessions will still be floating around in one giant purse.

  Sam finally came home to Melbourne from the vineyard, weary and super scruffy. He reached into his backpack and said, “Here. I bet you’ve missed him.” And then he handed me Brian Flanagan, whom he had wrapped carefully in a T-shirt. Sam had taken Brian all the way to Canowindra and then packed him up again and taken him on the bus, train, and the flight to Melbourne. Here he was. Spiky. Green. Stumpy. Still alive.

  Sam arrived in the evening, and in the middle of unpacking, he said he wanted to talk, really talk, about what we are doing in Melbourne, since my program is ending in a week. He told me that while he was on the vineyard, he realized he was tired of messing around with his life.

  “I just started to wonder why I was in the middle of rural Australia doing manual labor. I’m English, and I have a university degree. My friends back home have already been promoted multiple times while I’ve been pruning grapevines and living in the Strawberry Bale House with Lily.”

  I had nothing to say to this. Was he breaking up with me? Was he going to leave me and go back to England? Did he want to move on without me?

  I stared at him.

  “So what does this mean?” I asked him.

  He said, “I’m nearly twenty-­seven and I’ve been traveling for over two years. I was happy to go to the vineyard because I love you and this was the only way to stay together in Australia. But even if we find jobs now, it will be difficult to get long-­term visas—­like what happened with your radio job. And if we’re both going to struggle to find fulfilling work in Australia, then why are we here?” he asked.

  “Because we have nowhere else to go?” I said. “Maybe we could move back to China?”

  He shook his head. I could probably find journalism work in Beijing now that I have experience, but he doesn’t know Mandarin and we’d be in the exact same position a year or two from now—­trying to decide where to go next.

  I can’t work in the United Kingdom. He can’t work in the United States. We’ll both eventually be kicked out of Australia if we can’t find work. We both sat in silence until he said something that I had always feared he would say.

  “I would love to move to London. It’s a great city and all of my best friends live there. I’ve been gone from England for a really long time,” he said.

  During this entire exchange, we’d been sitting together at the foot of the bed, and at this point, I stood up.

  “But what about me?” I asked him. I picked up Brian Flanagan. “What about us?” I asked, trying to smile.

  “There are ways for us to move to London together,” he said.

  He and I both knew the only way. Marriage. Neither of us said the word.

  “We need to think about what we want for the future,” Sam said. “If we have a future, it’s either in America or in England. We both like New York and London. We can’t keep floating around forever,” he said. “I need to start my real life now.”

  This went on for a while, until we decided that we should think separately about what we wanted, and sleep on it.

  Right now, he’s fast asleep in our bed.

  But I can’t sleep at all. Rachel, what do I do? What do we do?

  He was right about a lot of things. I’m tired of starting over in new countries. The first two times were exciting, but the next place I go, I want to stay for a long time. Each time, it gets harder and harder to leave behind my friends, my work, and all of my ­connections. I’d love to be in a place where I can have 113 books without giving them all away in a year or buy something that weighs more than five pounds.

  Tough life questions. Shit. New York or London for the rest of my life? Annie Hall or Bridget Jones? The West Village or Notting Hill? Being a lowly intern at the New York Times or the Guardian? BAGELS OR SCONES?

  It’s so hard to factor someone else into my life decisions. I never thought I could be with someone for this long, and yet Sam always surprises me in good ways. When I met him, he was a fun backpacker, and then he became my boyfriend. And while I knew he loved me, I had no idea he would work for three months in the country for our relationship. But still. Time to choose.

  Sam’s always believed in us, even when I had doubts.

  I’m so confused about what to do. The only thing I really know is that I love Sam. But is that enough?

  Love,

  Jess

  JULY 23

  Rachel to Jess

  I know that everything still feels so uncertain, but you love Sam—­whether you go to the next place together or not, you know that you love him and that’s a truth. But what do you want most of all?

  I completely agree with the idea of being somewhere long-­term. When we first made the choice to move abroad, it was a random and exciting decision. But each time, it takes a little more out of us. I thought that we’d have inexhaustible inner resources, but I’m finding that I don’t. I really don’t.

  I’m leaving Paris in one month. I’m sad to be leaving my life here, but I know that it’s time to move on. I’ll be in London for at least the next three years, and I feel like I could really be there for a long time.

  As I’m sitting here, I can see the little old lady across the courtyard pruning the vines around her window. I can’t believe I never saw how much the little old lady is like Sam Singer.

  Of course, I’d love you to come to London, but with you, where you go next is anyone’s guess. I’m not going to get my hopes up. I also don’t want to be the one to tell you what to do.

  Do you realize that it’s now been almost THREE years since we graduated? So long ago, I remember choosing New York because it felt like the only place to go—­a non-­choice. I remember choosing Paris because it felt like the perfect place to go—­an easy choice. And now, I finally feel like I’m choosing the right place for me and what I need to do.

  During my time in Paris, I:

  Fell in love and dated the love of my life for three days

  Learned to not be friends with
engaged guys

  Finished my thesis

  Met Picasso’s grandson (forgot to tell you about this; he was completely normal)

  Wrote 31,000 words of a 50,000 word (and growing) novel

  Gained ten pounds (croissants are delicious, buttery saboteurs)

  Taught hundreds of teenagers about right triangles

  Saved $5,000

  Spent $4,000 on my credit cards

  Netted $1,000

  Fell into the best group of French friends in the world

  Published two short stories

  Got much better in French and then, somehow, suddenly overnight, much worse

  Got accepted into a doctoral program

  Did not get hit by any cars

  This coming year, I will:

  Move to London

  Lose ten pounds

  Find love (although it seems psychologically bad to connect it to the previous thought)

  Watch every movie Greta Garbo ever made

  Find a secret London library

  Publish one academic paper

  Ride horses again

  Learn polo

  Finish my novel

  Save up enough money to visit you wherever you are, even if it kills me

  Join the Daughters of the American Revolution (I just want to, okay?)

  I can control most of those things, except love. Love being, of course, the one thing that I want now. But at least I have the certainty of knowing what I don’t want: someone who won’t fight for me or someone who leaves me feeling lukewarm.

  And I’m getting better at dealing with how I approach life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop myself from freaking out at inopportune moments or having dark lapses in my life, but I know that those moments rise and fall like waves, and then they’re gone.

  After it all, you’re still the only person I would send this e-mail to. I miss you like crazy. We are too far from Brown for me to want to go back there. Think of how different we are from how we were then. I am glad we are different, but I miss us. And I miss the current you too.

  I think no matter where you go, you’ll be happy as long as you know why you’re there.

  Love,

  Rach

  JULY 25

  Jess to Rachel

  Rach,

  A few weeks ago, Sam and I walked by a poster for Amélie, the French film, which showed her reading in bed, with Chinese characters instead of French or English in the background. I thought about how if you combined your life and mine, it would look something like this picture in this shop in Melbourne.

  I think you are right about England being the place for you now. We’ve both moved our lives across the world, and when it comes to what we are looking for, I think we’re getting warmer—­although you are still terrible at making life lists. Give up polo and learn how to fry an egg or change a tire! Be useful for once in your life!

  I’ll let it slide for now, since you did manage to have two years of kissing Europeans, teaching soldiers, and inventing new French phrases.

  So, did Oprah tell you to make these lists? Fine. (This worked for me once before.)

  I thought that you should know that during my last year I:

  Fell in love with Sam Singer

  Nearly lost Sam Singer

  Produced two radio stories

  Fell in love with an Australian hen named Liza Minnelli

  Learned how to make chili

  Didn’t meet a single wombat

  Had three journalism internships

  Scripted and voiced three TV reports

  Gained and lost my dream job in same day

  Met Buzz Aldrin (I interviewed him. He talked about the moon too much.)

  Began running again

  Caught the bouquet

  Sheared a sheep (worst experience of my life)

  Wrote you 4,000 times

  I think I live almost too much in the present moment, because everywhere else I’ve lived feels so incredibly far away that it now feels made up. Every time I unpack my suitcase, I start again. My childhood in Texas is one self-­contained blur of family and flat plains; my second life at Brown was pretending to be an adult, as we watched plays in black box theaters but still lived in the dorms. I flew into my third life in Beijing, where I spoke Mandarin with taxi drivers and fell in and out of love, and now my fourth life, in Melbourne with Sam, is fading.

  Now, my next step. The most miserable I’ve ever been was when I thought I had lost Sam—­first in Beijing, and then here. And the happiest I’ve ever been has been with him. I still don’t know what my career’s going to look like, but I’ve met reporters from all over the world, so I know that it is possible to have the kind of career I want anywhere if I work hard enough (although New York is still oversaturated with journalists and writers).

  Last night, Sam and I spent all day at a nearby park that was playing movies on an outdoor screen. We spent the day discussing how most of my friends are scattered across the world and how all of his friends live in London and some of mine will now too. We walked home with our arms around each other and kept arguing about who could imitate an Australian accent better, and I just kept trying to say “Pineapple coconut” in an Aussie accent and failing. It kept coming out “Peen-­apple.” It reminded me of our first date, except I already love him so much. So much, too much.

  When we came home, he handed me a long poster tube. He said, “This will look good no matter where you live.”

  I ripped off the wrapping paper and reached my hand inside and found...nothing. And then...lots of tissue paper. And then...a ribbon. And more ribbon. No Amélie poster. I kept tugging and found a card that had four Chinese characters on it. I kept pulling on the ribbon until I found another card attached that had more Chinese characters on it and then I kept pulling until another note had a giant question mark. And there, at the end of ten feet of ribbon, was a small black box. I put the cards in order, and basically understood this: “You ———­ me —­?”

  Sam thinks I’m better at reading Mandarin than I actually am.

  And then I opened the box. He got down on one knee. Then he slipped a platinum ring with my birthstone, an aquamarine, onto my finger.

  Rachel. RACHEL! I’ve figured out my fifth life.

  This coming year, I will:

  Marry Sam Singer

  Move to London

  I mean, we’ve got visas and life plans and logistics to figure out, but ultimately this means you’re finally going to meet Sam! Look out for a crooked English Tom Cruise carrying a baby cactus.

  Call me back. Immediately. I can’t wait to see you in London. Together again! At last!

  Love,

  Jess, A Girl with Dark Hair Arriving in London

  P.S. You’re really going to miss getting 437 e-mails from me a day.

  EPILOGUE

  Before her wedding, Jess spent nine months in Beijing while her UK visa was processed. Back in China, she worked as the worst TV reporter in the world.

  Jess married Sam Singer in the Lake District. It rained the entire weekend. Rachel cried approximately five different times that day. Platonic Nick held her tissues.

  Jess now works as a freelance writer. She lives with Sam in London.

  Rachel will finish her PhD in 2015 and has become a partial magical keeper of knowledge. She has had five different apartments since moving to London.

  Rosabelle is on her way to becoming a top human rights lawyer. She married Buster, who became a neuroscientist and then a consultant.

  Astrid moved back to Norway and is an entrepreneur who will run the world in five years.

  Brian Flanagan was murdered in a bathtub when he was mistaken for a bath toy by two children.

  Now that they live in the same city, instead of writing e-mails to each other, Je
ss and Rachel text each other random nonsense approximately forty-­three times a day. It is un-­book-­worthy.

  For the rest of their story, visit www.graduatesinwonderland.com.

  Acknowledgments

  We’d first like to thank Allison Hunter, who saw something in our project and took a chance on us. We feel so lucky to have you on our team—­you are definitely our hot twin cousin forever. Without you, none of this would have been possible.

  We’d also like to thank our editor, Marisa Vigilante, who really understood our vision for this book and helped bring our creative grammar, dumb jokes, and haphazard storytelling into a real narrative. We’re so glad we got to work with you, although it was mostly from opposite sides of the Atlantic. A big thank-­you also goes out to everyone else at Gotham Books who worked on this book behind the scenes—­we know it’s a team effort.

  And special thanks to Jori Thompson (Paige), who was our very first reader and believed in this book from the beginning. Thank you to Imogen Kandel (Isla), whose early comments on our first draft were invaluable.

  We also wanted to recognize all the people who appear in this book: Thank you for the crazy years of our early twenties and for giving us these stories. Jess would personally like to thank the real Sam Singer for his infinite love, support, and patience and say: xoxoxo.

  And to our dear friends and family who do not appear here but were very much part of our experiences during these years—­just because you didn’t break our hearts, employ us, or live with us, we still want to thank you for being part of our lives and our journeys.

  Photograph by Ian Cook

  Jessica Pan (right) has a BA in psychology and literary arts from Brown University. She holds a master’s degree in journalism from the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology. She was the editor of a magazine and a TV reporter in Beijing. Jessica lives in London.

  Rachel Kapelke-­Dale (left) is pursuing a PhD in cinematographic studies at University College London. She has a BA in history of art and architecture and comparative literature from Brown University and a master’s in cinema studies from the Université de Paris VII. Rachel also lives in London.