by Jill Knapp
“She doesn’t live here in New York,” he started to explain. “She lives in New Jersey with her boyfriend. She’s in the doctoral program here at NYU, but I hardly ever see her. Her schedule makes ours look empty.”
“That explains why I’ve never met her,” I offered. I could feel my defenses coming down. “But not why you never told me about it.”
“With everything that’s been going on it honestly just slipped my mind,” Alex took a step closer to me and I fixed my eyes to a spot on the floor. “You’ll definitely get to meet her at the wedding.”
Softening, I took his hands in mine. “That’s right, it’s a new year,” I said through a grin. “This is the year we’re getting married.”
“I had that same thought when I woke up,” he offered me another kiss and I let out a small sigh. “Don’t you have another fitting coming up?”
He was right, the day after tomorrow I had an appointment at Wedding Atelier on Madison Avenue to try on the first adjustments to my gown. I smiled at the thought of getting to put on my wedding dress again, all while praying they didn’t somehow alter the dress into just a pile of tulle and lace.
After taking a few more sips of my freshly ground coffee, I sighed and shook my head.
“What is it?” he asked, a slight chuckle to his voice.
“I have something else on my mind, apart from the wedding dress.”
“What’s that?”
I opened my eyes wider and pursed my lips. “You know what it is,” I narrowed my eyes in a playful way and scooted a bit closer to him. “Can we just talk about what happened last night for a second?”
“Ah. I know what this is about,” he replied with a nod. “You’re referring to our dear friends Michael and Amalia,”
“You didn’t see her face, babe. I mean, I guess I could chalk it up to her being drunk, but the look in her eyes was just so unhinged.”
“What exactly did she say to you?” a brief look of curiosity claimed his face.
“She said something about how everything was going to be okay now.” I squinted as I tried to remember her exact words. Four glasses of champagne wasn’t helping my memory any. “That all she really ever wanted was Michael to commit to her.” I reached for my mug on the coffee table and took a long sip. Stifling a yawn, I continued. “And as I’m saying it out loud it doesn’t sound all that crazy. You just had to have seen it, I guess, for it to really make sense.”
Alex furrowed his brows and leaned in to the plush back of the sofa. A lazy smile spread across his lips and I could tell that even though it was nearly noon, he was still much too tired to talk about this. He wrapped an arm around me and gently pulled on me until my head was on his chest. I took a deep breath in, and nearly forgot what we were even talking about. I lifted my head ever so lightly and he rewarded me with a soft kiss.
“Here’s an idea,” he whispered, his face nuzzled into my hair. “As you pointed out earlier, today is the start of a new year. So how about from this day on we let our friends take care of their relationship drama.”
“I just worry about her,” I mumbled back.
“I know you do, and that’s what makes you such a good friend,” Alex sat up a little straighter and looked in my eyes. “And I can’t believe I am going to say this,” he took a deep breath and slowly released it. “But I am a little worried about her myself.”
This took me completely by surprise.
“I thought you didn’t like her?” I questioned with a smirk.
Alex gave me a slight eye roll before reaching for his mug. “She’s your best friend, Olivia. I know I used to give her a hard time and I’m not saying I’ll be inviting her over for tea and biscuits anytime soon,” he said with a shrug. “Having said that, I don’t think what Michael’s doing is fair to her.” He took a sip of his coffee and I nodded. He looked as if he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Maybe you can talk to him about it?” I asked, with an air of hope.
Alex considered for a moment but shook his head. “That’s not really something I’d be comfortable talking to him about.”
“I thought you two were really close?”
He took a beat and glanced out of the window into the city across the water. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I joined him in soaking up the beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline from our apartment on Roosevelt Island. He broke his gaze and turned back to me, bending down a bit so I could put my arms around him. I was still facing the window.
“Olivia,” he started. “I don’t think anyone can get close to Michael.”
My eyes remained fixed on the black and white town I had grown to love. I thought about Alex’s suggestion, to stay out of Amalia’s drama. I wondered if it was possible. But there was one thing that was undeniably true.
“I think you’re right, sweetheart.” Raising an eyebrow, I could feel the weight of Alex’s stare. “Michael doesn’t let anyone get close to him.” I stood up on my toes to be face to face with Alex.
“And I don’t think he ever will.”
Twenty-one – Amalia
“Do you want coffee?” Michael called from his kitchen. I pictured him staring at the clock above the television until enough time had passed for him to push down on his French roast.
“Is that even a question?” I let out a small laugh. I was tangled in the sheets, and my outfit was a messy pile on the bedroom floor. Grabbing some pajama pants off the side of his bed, I realized I felt pretty good in spite of how much I had to drink last night. After putting on the last article of clothing, I strutted into the kitchen with a new air of confidence.
I was more than ready to have breakfast with my new boyfriend.
Michael had woken up about an hour before me and was already showered and dressed. But since he had nowhere to go, he hadn’t bothered with one of his usual, perfectly coordinated, outfits. Wearing jeans and a blue sweatshirt that read “Columbia Alumni”, I realized that underneath all of that refinement was a more casual guy. One who felt comfortable enough to leave his hair undone and his button-down shirts in the closet. On the other hand, he might just be too exhausted from partying to bother with his appearance.
After we left Alex’s apartment last night, we came back to Michael’s place to crash. When we got here, a part of me wanted to start talking about our new relationship immediately. I was so happy, I could barely keep the words to myself. But as soon as we made it inside he started kissing me, leaving me both speechless and euphoric.
I walked gingerly over to the bistro table and slowly sat down, careful not to trip on Michael’s pajama pants that were dragged on the floor. A carafe of coffee had already been placed on the table, along with two tall mugs. Watching as Michael flipped a perfectly fluffy pancake, I poured myself a much-needed cup of coffee. I couldn’t help but sigh as he finished preparing the meal and stacked the golden-brown cakes on top of one another.
Lowering my head into my hands, I let out a small sound as my alcohol-induced headache started to get a little worse.
“How do you feel?” Michael materialized in front of me. He was holding a bottle of water and some pills.
I pulled my curls into a tight ponytail, tying them up with the hair tie I always had on my wrist.
“Physically?” I gave him a weak smile. “I feel pretty awful.”
“Here,” he said, handing me the pills. “These will help.”
I studied the pills on the table while I opened my water bottle. “What are they?”
Pulling out the chair across from me, Michael offered me a small smile. “Those two are aspirin, the other one is a vitamin.”
I swallowed the pills and then used my fork to stab a pancake from the stack. Biting into it was sweet relief on my grumbling stomach. At least I didn’t have the usual nausea that accompanied my hangovers.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, pouring some extra maple syrup on my food for good measure.
Michael swallowed an oversized piece of pancake and nodded. “I feel fine
. A bit of a headache but it’s going away.” He looked up at me and smiled. “Plus, I didn’t drink as much as you did.” He lifted up the coffee mug and gave me a small toast.
I felt a little nervous about the next topic I was getting ready to bring up. After a two-second mental pep talk, I finally got the nerve to ask him about what was really on my mind.
“So,” I lazily swirled the spoon in my coffee, unable to meet his eyes. “How are you feeling about what we decided on last night?”
I could feel Michael’s gaze sharply switch from his food over to me.
“I’m feeling good about it,” he offered. But that was all he said.
Too scared to ask him to elaborate, I merely nodded as a million thoughts fluttered through my mind.
Where was this going? Would we still be together after school ended? How would we make it work if he ended up in a Ph.D. program across the country?
The anxious thoughts weren’t helping my headache any, so I tried my best to keep them out of my mind. At least for today.
For right now all I could do was enjoy the ride and hope, more than anything, that it all worked out.
I got back to my apartment that day at around four-thirty and shuffled quickly into my building just as the sun was going down. The seasons in New York could be awfully depressing. Freezing winters, hardly any sunshine, inflating subway prices, not to mention the sheer isolation. When the holidays were over and it was still twenty degrees outside, it was hard not to feel depression. Even under the best circumstances.
Like getting to have breakfast with your new boyfriend.
Turning the key in my front door, the memory of my former roommates came back to me. I imagined I was back in my old apartment in the West Village and Christina was sitting by the coffee table, biting into an apple (she always ate so healthily). The sunlight would flood into the sitting room and she and I would trade stories about our days. Cassandra would inevitably show up at my front door, scratching the floors with her high heels. We’d chat over a bottle of pinot about Michael and how badly I wanted to be with him.
Liz would be nowhere to be seen.
Sitting in my apartment now, filled with furniture and clutter but empty of memories, just made me realize everything I had lost over the years. I missed our group study sessions. I missed the novelty of starting something new. I even missed Christina a bit.
I missed Cassandra a lot.
Sure, I finally had Michael, whatever that meant. But I missed feeling like things were possible. The cushion of knowing I had a few years to figure out what I was going to do when I graduated from NYU. I ran my fingers through my hair and hung my head. Maybe I was more hung over than I thought.
The fact of the matter was that I had no idea what I was going to do when I finished my graduate program. The idea of going through more school once excited me. But, at this point, I was merely exhausted by all of the work and pressure. I didn’t know what was the right thing to do.
A beat later there was a knock at my door. I jumped up and opened it – not a smart move without asking who was there first. Olivia stood in the doorway wearing fuzzy white ear muffs and holding two to-go cups of coffee.
I wondered if she knew how ridiculous she looked.
“Hey,” I said, motioning to the couch I had just been moping on. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Liar,” I laughed. “Come on in”
She looked around my apartment. The first thing I saw her eyes catch was the sink full of dishes. The second was the blanket balled up on the couch that I had just been sulking on.
“Happy New Year, my friend,” I muttered sarcastically.
“What’s going on?” she cocked her head to the side.
“Just perseverating about my future,” I answered, reaching for one of the coffees. “Or lack thereof.” I grimaced before taking a sip of what turned out to be a vanilla latte.
“With Michael?” Olivia ran a finger over my counter top, almost examining my living quarters.
I shook my head. “No. I feel like he and I are finally on the same page.” Whether or not that was completely true, I wasn’t sure. But I was happy enough with him willing to commit to me to stop picking at it. I shook my blonde hair out of a messy ponytail, letting the curls hit my shoulders. “I’m worried about the other parts of my future.”
I knew I was being evasive, but I honestly didn’t know what to say. All of pathways I once saw as choices were now twisting into traps.
“I thought you said everything would be fine now that you’re with Michael,” she paused to sip her coffee. “He’s all you’ve ever wanted.”
“This coffee is really good,” I offered her a fake smile, hoping to change the subject. “Where is it from?”
“Stumptown on 8th street,” she turned on her heel and lazily dropped herself next to me. “Now, back to what we were talking about.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re too smart for your own good?” I teased. She wasn’t having it, though. Her furrowed brow told me she was all business.
“I told Alex I wasn’t going to get involved with your love life anymore, but I care too much not to.”
I let out a long sigh. “Well, Michael may be all I’ve wanted, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t need things for my life.” I rubbed my forehead. “Like a job lined up for after I finish this program.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Aren’t you applying for doctoral programs?”
“I am,” I answered quickly. “But what if I don’t get in.”
“Come on, Amalia. You have to have a more positive attitude!”
“I don’t think my attitude will sway the admissions committee in any way.” I offered her a small smile, but I could feel my eyes fall to the floor. “They can’t see me here, kvetching about it.”
There was something else, something bigger than my fear of not getting in to a post-graduate program. I hadn’t considered this before but somehow it was right there on the tip of my tongue.
“What if I don’t want to get in?” I raised my eyes to meet her gaze. “What if I don’t want to do this anymore?”
I thought of telling her that the thought of five or six more years in school was downright daunting. But I really didn’t want a lecture right now.
Slowly rubbing my temples, I awaited her response. With her lips pressed into a straight line, Olivia looked like I had just told her I was going to jump off the Manhattan Bridge.
“What are you talking about?” her voice rising an octave. “This is what we do. College, graduate school, and then post-grad. It’s the only way to get the jobs we’ve always wanted.” Her eyes were wide, commanding attention.
I considered what she said for a moment. “And what is the job that you have always wanted?”
“I want to do research,” she shrugged as if she was ordering extra fries. “Alex and I both do. And hopefully we’ll be fortunate enough to teach some classes also.” She squinted her eyes at me and raised one furrowed brow. “You are still planning on sending out your applications, right?”
I let out an exasperated sigh as the idea of four more years in school stabbed its way through my chest.
“I am nearly finished,” I rubbed my eyes. This conversation was exhausting me. “If I can just get a decent letter of recommendation for Dr. Greenfield then I am done.” I hoped this was enough of an explanation for her to drop the subject. From the look on her face, I could see that it was not.
“What’s wrong, Olivia?” I asked in an exasperated tone.
“I am really surprised by how you’re acting,” she said flatly. “I thought we were all on the same page.”
“What page is that?” I asked, trying to keep the bite out of my voice. I felt like Olivia was constantly challenging every move I made. Consistently making me second-guess myself.
“The one we were all on when we met. The one where we finished out NYU, and then went on–”
“An
d then went on to spend another ninety thousand dollars on a doctoral program?” I spat out. “I just don’t know how much longer I can live like this?”
“Live like what?” Olivia threw her hands in the air and started pacing.
“Look, Olivia,” I stood up and made a point of keeping my voice in a measured tone. “I already have loans on top of loans. NYU is not cheap.” I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, not sure how to say this without her feeling insulted. “You are marrying Alex. You told me a while back that he doesn’t have any loans to pay back, that he paid as he went through college and graduate school.” Her face scrunched up as she realized what I was getting at. “He’ll help you.” Shrugging, I let out a soft sigh. “When you’re married, he’ll help you pay off all of your loans.”
Olivia pursed her lips. I could tell we were teetering on the edge of a fight. Bound to fall into a battle if one of us didn’t choose our words carefully.
“Okay,” she started. “I understand where you’re coming from.” Her face un-scrunched and a look of hope washed over it. “You know you can defer paying your loans for as long as you’re in school. That means if you get into a program here you won’t have to pay the loans back while you’re in school.”
I shook my head. “Even if I do that, they’ll still be accumulating a lot of interest.”
Olivia’s eyes dropped to the floor. I could tell she didn’t know what to say.
I sprang up from the couch and crossed over to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Tossing one to Olivia, I put on my best “I’m fine” face. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore and neither did I.
“On to happier subjects,” I forced a toothy smile. “I’ve been cooking up some ideas for your bachelorette party!”
Quickly, Olivia’s tense stance relaxed. Letting out a soft chuckle, she took a step forward and then joined me on the couch.
“What did you have in mind?” she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and the next word out of your mouth better not be–”
“Strippers?” I cut her off. Blushing, she gently swatted my knee. “Exactly, Amalia. No strippers.”