Forks, Knives, and Spoons

  A murmur replaced the hush of the stadium. The two paused for only a beat, standing face-to-face, and then Jenny bent to pick up her shoe, giving the student section a clear view of what the dean had just felt up. With a coy curtsy, she limped offstage, leaving the dean with his hands still hovering in the air.

  Veronica turned back and caught Amy’s eye. “Oh my God,” she mouthed. Until the recent Sigma Chi fraternity party, they hadn’t seen much of Jenny since leaving Brewster tower behind. Every now and then they ran into her around campus or out on M Street, but many of the early relationships of freshman year had fizzled. Veronica was relieved that, when no longer living side by side, Amy had been able to ease away from Jenny and her antics.

  Behind her, Amy rested the camera in her lap, waiting through D, E, and F. She lifted the camera as the speakers moved on to the G’s. “ . . . Manuel Luis Fuentes, Bridget Kelly Fyfe, Karen Claudia Gabardi . . .” She slid her finger over the grooved disk to advance the film and prepared for her shot as they got closer.

  “ . . . Danielle Ashley Gabbert, Andrew William Gabel . . .” Amy snapped at the faraway platform, trying to preserve Andrew’s passage. Her photo albums and frames were filled with images of the two of them: Amy and Andrew with groups of big-haired girls and boys with their hair parted down the middle, a little too long in back; the two arm in arm at football games, on beaches, at formals, huddled by campfires. Soon she would add pictures of them in graduation caps and gowns to the collection.

  Veronica looked back to Amy and pulled a curl away from her face as Amy took her picture, too. She noticed Amy feel for Andrew’s Sigma Chi pin, which Veronica knew was tacked to her dress under the robe. She had arranged Amy’s second candle lighting, as she had the first for her lavaliere. So few pinnings happened that the whispers grew as the candle started around the circle for the third time. Veronica sat next to Amy, and before the candle had fully left her hand, Amy had blown out the flame, announcing her pinning, and was tackled by a bevy of sisters. It was Andrew, Veronica realized, who had given her those treasured memories, who had made her friend feel loved and special. The thought softened her to him as the names continued their rhythmic march.

  THE MORNING AFTER GRADUATION, Veronica woke before Amy and headed downstairs. At the foot of the stairs, Veronica made her usual loop into the communications room to check the bulletin board one last time. She saw an envelope tacked on to the board addressed to Amy and pulled it down. The house was still quiet as Veronica made herself a cup of coffee, returned to their room on the third floor, and silently leaned the envelope against Amy’s alarm clock, the first place she would look when she awoke.

  “What’s that?” Amy’s groggy voice croaked.

  “Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you. I don’t know, I found it on the board.”

  Rolling onto her back and examining it, Amy said, “It’s Matt’s handwriting.” She tugged out the slip of paper, scanned it and read it out loud.

  Meet me at our computer lab at 10:00 Sunday morning.

  Love,

  Matt

  “Is he kidding me? There is no way I’m doing computer programming. I already have my diploma and barely scraped through those awful computer classes.”

  Veronica laughed as Amy slogged out of bed and padded down the hall to brush her teeth on their last morning in this house, on this campus. They were marking off everything with a bittersweet finality.

  AMY PULLED THE DOOR OF THE computer lab at 10:02 a.m. Locked. She looked around, knowing there would be no one in sight with the key, or the authority, to open a whole facility for her. She tried the door again, shaking it back and forth as if maybe one more time would prove it wasn’t locked, and then she scanned the area for Matt. Why had he told her to meet him there? Maybe the note was old and she had the wrong Sunday. While she considered what to do, Amy sat on the low stone wall beside the entrance and took out the granola bar she’d grabbed from the kitchen.

  With a clank that made Amy jump, the computer lab door opened from the inside, hiding her behind it. She stood to peek around the door and nearly smashed her face into Matt’s as he peered around the opposite way.

  “Ah! You scared me!” they both said, laughing.

  Matt held the door open and waved her in. “I’m so glad you got my note. I wasn’t sure it would get to you in time.”

  “What are we doing here? Is this place even open?”

  “I have connections. Important computer lab connections.” His grin drew one out of her. It was impossible not to smile around Matt.

  He led her into the familiar room stocked with machines. She stopped short in the doorway, overcome by a rush of feelings, from the fear she had those first weeks to the relief Matt gave her, like aloe on a sunburn. She recalled the small jokes and big conversations they’d had in their corner. Their corner. The corner where their friendship had begun, where it had grown.

  She followed Matt to their nook. She’d done it so many times, she could navigate those tables blindfolded. The screens were all dark and the keyboards neatly tucked in for the season. Matt pulled out her chair for her and sat facing her. From his sweatshirt pocket, he removed a gift wrapped in creamy yellow with pink spots. Amy loved it already. She turned it over in her hands before delicately guiding the ribbon over the corners of the box and slipping a finger under the folds.

  “I love how you can leave your stuff all over your floor but you unwrap gifts and open envelopes, which are kind of meant to be ripped, like they were rare historical documents.”

  “Letters and gifts are as precious as any old proclamation. Besides, I like to make it last as long as possible.” She held the box with restrained anticipation. Like Russian stacking dolls, she opened the lid to find another box within.

  Matt dragged his thumb across his chin; he was smiling and watching Amy’s every move. She laid the outer shell beside the computer then glanced up at him before lifting the hinged top of the leather box.

  “Oh.” She stared at the silver charm bracelet, her eyes brimming with tears and her breath catching in her throat.

  “I thought you could add to it for different milestones in your life,” Matt began as she studied the charms he’d chosen. “There’s a fleur-de-lis for Kappa, and the Syracuse S,” Matt explained.

  Amy fingered the last charm, her name in capitals. “And my name.”

  “Your initials. The first three letters of your login to remind you that you can do anything.”

  She threw her arms around his neck with such energy that it pushed Matt back in the chair and Amy fell onto his lap, their bodies touching unlike ever before. The room stood still for a splinter of time before Amy pulled herself upright and sat again, wondering why she felt nervous.

  “You are the sweetest, most thoughtful friend in the whole world,” she thanked him. “I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you.”

  Looking from her charms up to Matt, she saw his eyes glisten.

  “HOW CAN YOU TWO have so much stuff to move in?” Andrew slid a box on top of another, adding to the towers of cardboard along each wall of the snug city apartment. A tuft of his sandy hair, newly trimmed, stuck to his sweaty forehead. “If it’s this hot in June, summer in the city is going to be deadly.”

  “At least it’s not raining,” Amy said, plopping a box down and kissing him.

  Veronica and Andrew conspiratorially rolled their eyes at her relentless optimism.

  Amy and Veronica had decided on a smaller place in a doorman building, forgoing some space for security. It was on Thirty-Seventh Street and Third Avenue, near the entrance to the Midtown Tunnel, and had two tiny bedrooms, a galley kitchen, and a fair-sized living room. Amy scanned the parquet floors, the freshly painted walls, and the large window overlooking Third Avenue and the Empire State Building in the distance. It was all theirs.

  Her T-shirt and jeans were dusty, and her brown hair was pulled up into a high, straight ponytail. She’d long ago given up coaxing it to curl and was
thankful that hairstyles were straightening. Dressed in similarly grubby attire, Veronica had a wide cloth bandanna keeping her thick red curls from her face. Her parents were vacationing in Italy and had hired a small moving service to help Veronica transport some large things from Newport. The crew unloaded the few items of furniture the Warrens were handing down, along with cartons of new pots, small appliances, and too-fancy dishes they had packed up for their daughter’s first apartment. Veronica had found a parking spot in front of the building’s entrance on Thirty-Seventh Street, and she trekked in and out with armfuls of garment bags and crates of neatly organized CDs she’d driven down from Rhode Island.

  The parade of assorted movers crossed one another on the elevator and in the corridors. Andrew pulled his shirt up and wiped his face, then sat in the middle of the room with an audible exhale. He had been especially attentive and available to Amy since she had climbed the stairs back to him, vowing to show her it was the right choice.

  “Just a few more trips and everything should be in,” Tom York announced, carrying in two giant suitcases. “That doorman of yours is a nice fella. Even still, I’m happy I’m leaving you in the city with Andrew to look after you for me.”

  “You’re so old-fashioned, Dad, I can take care of myself, you know.”

  “Don’t you need me?” Andrew adopted a wounded look and her dad laughed.

  “Come on, let’s leave her to unpack all those clothes while we bring up some more.”

  Andrew hopped up to follow him to the waiting car. Amy watched her dad clutch Andrew on the shoulder and was glad that having Andrew in her life gave her father peace. He had done everything to give Amy a youth to treasure, and she deeply wanted to make him happy and proud. She pulled the luggage to her new room and peered out her window. It filled the whole back wall and overlooked an overgrown courtyard, letting in brightness but no sunlight.

  “Amy? Where are you?” Veronica’s voice echoed through the unfurnished space.

  “In here!”

  Veronica appeared at her door, eyes wide and full of meaning that only a best friend could discern. Behind her stood an olive-skinned guy carrying a stack of boxes. Veronica’s eyes crinkled with her smile as she directed him to the door next to Amy’s. Amy followed them into Veronica’s room, where the bed was already made with a new coverlet in ivory with small green leaves scattered across it. It was the only sign of hominess in all of their four rooms.

  “This is Joey DiNatali,” Veronica introduced, her eyes glittering. “He lives right down the hall, apartment 202.”

  Joey had black hair combed back with gel, holding it stiff. His black Led Zeppelin T-shirt stretched snuggly across his broad shoulders and chest. His muscular arms, firm even at rest, bulged against the edges of the short sleeves, and a gold chain glinted at his neck. When he and Veronica stood apart from each other, it was hard to tell who was taller.

  “How about I cook you ladies dinner tonight?” Joey offered after the introductions, his eyes on Veronica. Joey had a faint accent, the New York–Northern New Jersey twang.

  The roommates had planned to order in food and eat between unpacking and decorating. Amy was looking forward to being alone with Veronica setting up their first apartment together. She turned to Veronica, willing her to decline.

  “That sounds great,” Veronica answered. “Doesn’t that sound great, Amy?”

  Amy pushed out a smile. “Yes. Thanks, Joey.”

  The trio drifted out of Veronica’s room to the short hallway. They still had hours to get some work done before dinner, Amy reasoned, plus Veronica was clearly interested and it would be good to know their neighbors.

  “Where do you want these, Aim?” Andrew’s voice called from behind three small boxes with a spider plant balanced on top.

  “Here.” She scooped up the plant and pointed into her room. “Joey, this is Andrew. Andrew, Joey. He lives down the hall,” Amy said as Andrew passed. He grunted a hello beneath the load and squeezed through the narrow space.

  “Okay, so I’ll see you later, seven thirty?” Joey said.

  Veronica walked him to the door and Amy chuckled as her friend watched him until he waved from the other end of the hall and let himself into his apartment.

  Once the moving helpers had cleared out, Amy and Veronica tore into boxes and cleaning supplies and set up their new home with the Red Hot Chili Peppers CD as their sound track, and evening crept into the city. The handmade wind chimes that Kate made with silverware stolen from the dining hall were the first thing Amy hung in their new apartment. They dangled from the ceiling fan in the living room, tinkling as the blades moved the sticky air.

  “I still can’t believe Kate stole those,” Veronica said, hammering a landlord-approved hook into the plaster.

  With a few pictures on the walls, the shower curtain hung, and the kitchen fully unpacked, Amy sat on the floor of her room. She leaned against her bed while Veronica showered in their newly scrubbed bathtub. The light from a small lamp sitting on a box created yellowy shadows. Surveying her new home, Amy felt energized from the physical labor of the day; she swooned with anticipation of life in the city and the greater freedom within the tugs of responsibility. Sitting in her own apartment, with her own job and her own salary, mature and proud, she had arrived at being a grown-up.

  “Your turn,” Veronica called into the dimness as soap-scented steam poured from the bathroom behind her.

  VERONICA KNOCKED ON THE door marked 202 clutching a bottle of Chianti that her parents had sent. Joey had invited Andrew, but he had prior plans to meet a group of work friends downtown at Aces & Eights. Andrew had spent no time at home after graduation, but instead moved into the city and started his job, and he was already immersed in post-college city life.

  “How do I look?” Veronica asked again before the door opened.

  “Why are you so concerned about how you look?” Amy teased.

  Veronica answered with a smirk.

  The smell of fresh garlic and olive oil greeted them as Joey opened the door and gave them each a friendly kiss on the cheek. He gently rested his hand on Veronica’s back as he led them into his apartment, and she inhaled his aftershave. He was dressed in a neatly pressed black button-down shirt tucked into slim black pants; his only accessories were the gold chain at his neck and a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. Carrying his glass of red wine to the living room, he poured two more glasses and handed them to Veronica and Amy.

  Joey’s apartment had some of the same features as theirs, but the floor plan was different. His two bedrooms were unequal sizes; the larger was his bedroom and the other was set up with bookshelves and a desk housing a computer on half of it. To the left was his kitchen, which was small but bigger than Amy and Veronica’s hall-like one.

  They sat in his living room with the same view of the Empire State Building, which was lit up in red, white, and blue for the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. The rooms were decorated in a bachelor style with a modern edge: black lacquered furniture, Lucite accent tables, huge canvases of abstract art, and dark contrasting tones. It was clear that Joey wasn’t fresh out of college; he was established and settled in a more adult way, even if his taste didn’t match her own. Veronica wondered how old he was and how she could discreetly slip that into the conversation.

  Joey noticed Veronica observing. “Cousin Alessandra helped me pick out some things when I bought this place.” He pointed to the leather couch, inviting them to sit while Frank Sinatra crooned in the background. “Tell me about yourselves.”

  Veronica sat on the edge of the cushion and summarized hometowns, college majors, and new employment statuses, smiling nervously as she spoke. Joey’s ankle crossed his opposite knee, and the delicate wineglass rested in his thick hand as he listened attentively, asking for details and clarifications. His eyes left her face only when she paused in conclusion. Then he turned his attention to Amy.

  “So, Andrew’s your boyfriend? What does he do?”

  “He’s an
investment banker at Bear Stearns. I’m not really sure what that means.” She chuckled and sipped her wine.

  “And you grew up in Connecticut, huh? I talked to your dad down in the lobby a little bit today—he’s very proud of you.”

  “I’m really lucky to have him. Where are you from?” Amy asked, shifting into reporter gear.

  “Jersey. Hoboken. I lived just outside the city my whole life, watched the World Trade Center being built. My whole family, we all felt a little resentful when the towers were going up, beating out the Empire State Building as the tallest in the city.” He glanced out the window to the skyscraper. “My grandfather was a skilled mason. He came over from Italy and helped build it. We’ve always felt pride in that building; it’s part of our family’s history.”

  “Wow, that’s so interesting! Have you seen the movie An Affair to Remember? It’s incredibly romantic.”

  “Sure have. My mom and I are big old movie fans.”

  Veronica sat deeper into the couch as she followed their conversation, listening for clues into Joey’s life. She crossed her legs casually and waited to learn more, happy that her best friend was a reporter.

  “Your family’s still in Hoboken?” Amy asked, taking another bite of the antipasti spread on the transparent Lucite coffee table.

  “Yup. Or close by. All the DiNatalis, Mezzinas, and Boccacinis—aunts, uncles, and cousins—stayed in the area. I’m the only one who left Jersey, and look how far I got. I came in for school, NYU, and never left. I’m actually the first in my family to go to college.” His smile fell as his shoulders rose in a shrug. “Never graduated, though. The whole family treats me like a prodigy anyway,” he said, his smiling returning, “it’s kind of embarrassing.”

  Veronica’s toes started tapping in the air.

  “What did you study?” Amy said.

  Joey sipped his wine. Veronica’s foot bobbing slowed and she leaned forward.