What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan

by Jill Knapp

  “I have to go say hello to someone,” Olivia said. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

  I was beginning to feel like a charity project. Ever since my break-up, my friends had been handling me with kid gloves.

  “Of course,” I nodded, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “Go see your friend.”

  A busboy came around, offering hors d’oeuvres and champagne. I took the opportunity to get some food in my system, and grab some bubbly. I wasn’t alone for long. A few minutes later, Liz found me. She was wearing a long midnight-blue colored dress, with small black kitten heels. She had her long red hair pulled back into a bun exposing elegant pearl earrings, a look I deemed very uncharacteristic of her. I guess we’re all playing dress-up tonight, I thought.

  “Thank you for coming, you look amazing,” was all she said to me.

  Before I could open my mouth to return the compliment, she was halfway across the room, greeting someone else. I looked around the beautifully decorated dining room and recognized a lot of people from NYU. I had to hand it to them. Liz, and the rest of the alumni committee, had done a wonderful job organizing this party.

  “Amalia?” a voice from behind me asked. I turned around to see Michael standing before me, holding two glasses of champagne.

  Dressed in a classic black suit, crisp white dress shirt underneath, and no tie, he was by far the most attractive man in the room.

  He handed me a glass. “You look so beautiful, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  I smiled and made a mental note to further thank Cassandra for the new dress. Although, I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a compliment or not, but I was trying to keep positive.

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around tonight,” I said. “I barely recognized my class mates without text books attached to their arms.”

  He let out a warm laugh, raised his glass to me, and we toasted. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Olivia talking passionately to a man. She was waving her arms at him, dramatically driving her point home. Unfortunately, his back was toward me, and I couldn’t see who it was, but the conversation definitely seemed heated.

  “Who is Olivia talking to?” I asked. Michael turned around and looked in their direction. “I can’t tell”, he said, squinting his eyes.

  Olivia grabbed the mystery man by the suit jacket and led him out into the hotel lobby, nearly knocking over two chairs in the process. Michael turned back to me, eyes widened.

  “Well, she certainly seems to be able to handle herself,” he said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, wow!” I said, us both laughing. “Who knew she had it in her?”

  In unison, Michael and I took a sip of our champagne and turned toward the dance floor. Even through the noisy guests I could hear “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift playing over the speakers, and one by one couples started making their way toward the dance floor. Taylor Swift was one of my favorite artists and happily this was one of the few songs by her that I could listen to without automatically regressing back into depression.

  “I love this song,” I whispered.

  Suddenly, Michael took the champagne flute out of my hand and placed it on a nearby table.

  “What are you doing?” I asked suddenly feeling very nervous. My dance moves began and ended with The Locomotion.

  “I’m not doing anything. We’re dancing,” he said, as he took my arm.

  The only time I had slow-danced with a man was at my younger brother’s Bar Mitzvah seven years ago, with my high-school boyfriend. I spent half of the night stepping on his feet until he finally got so fed up that he refused to ever dance with me again. The thought that Michael and I would have a similar experience fueled me to stop him.

  “No,” I answered quickly. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head and tried to back away.

  Michael took a step back and pretended to be offended.

  “I mean, not no, I don’t not want to dance with you, per se. I just don’t know how to dance,” I said, resisting his grasp.

  Without looking at me, he said, “Then it’s a good thing I do”.

  Before I knew it, Michael enveloped my right hand in his, and placed my left on his chest. His left hand rested lightly on my hip, and pulled me close until his face was inches away from mine. I felt a deep shiver run up my body and focused hard on my footwork. He was wearing the same cologne he’d had on the day in class when he leaned close to me and I could feel the familiar flush of blood rushing to my cheeks. I did my best to ignore it, and decided I had better focus on what we were currently doing. I didn’t want to be remembered as the twenty-three-year-old weirdo who can’t dance for the rest of my time at this school.

  A few seconds passed and we were dancing flawlessly. I looked around the floor and saw everyone I knew from school dressed up, looking elegant and refined. I couldn’t help but allow a smile to creep onto my lips. I could get used to a life like this.

  “Listen, I heard what happened with Nicholas,” he said, softly.

  I stopped dancing and let go of his hand.

  “How did you know?” I asked. “I haven’t really spoken to that many people about it”.

  I wondered why he had to bring this up and ruin our perfect moment.

  “Alex told me,” he answered with a shrug. “I was asking around if anyone had seen or spoken to you lately, and he told me you were too upset to come to class. I was going to come visit you, but I couldn’t remember your address”.

  For a moment, I was utterly stunned. For one thing, how did Alex know anything about my break-up? Also, did Michael say he was going to come to my apartment to essentially check on me?

  “How does Alex know?” I asked, genuinely confused, but my question came off more as irritated.

  “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said, looking embarrassed.

  He took my hand back into his and resumed dancing.

  “I just want you to know that if you need to talk, I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” he said, taking the opportunity to dip me.

  I started wondering if his girlfriend, Marge, was the one who granted him the title of “good listener”. Or if she knew he slow-danced with other girls.

  “I appreciate it, Michael,” I said. “But I am more of the suffer-in-silence type.”

  Suddenly, Olivia angrily stormed over to us. Michael and I dropped hands immediately, preparing to be scolded for doing something wrong.

  “Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” she said, frantically searching the tables.

  Her eyes quickly scanned the room and she tossed tablecloths around and lifted up place settings. Finally locating her phone on the next table over, she grabbed her jacket and threw it on.

  “Never mind, here it is. I’m leaving.” She stormed off.

  I took a step away from Michael and began to walk in her direction.

  “Olivia!” I called after her, picking up the pace. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

  I started chasing her through the lobby, dodging caterers holding the plates of hors d’oeuvres. I chased her past the bellhops and the concierge desk, and then out onto Church Street.

  Why had she run out?

  I was suddenly clearly aware of the harsh winter air and wished I had grabbed my coat. I walked quickly up and down the block, calling her name, but she was nowhere to be seen. The Financial District was a ghost town this time of night and it seemed as though she had virtually disappeared. Feeling defeated, I decided to give up and go back inside, when I felt a hand on mine pull me around. I signed with relief and unclenched. I felt relieved that I had found her, but when we stood face to face, I saw that it wasn’t Olivia, it was Michael.

  Still holding my hand, he pulled me closer, this time not leaving any space between us. He ran his hand down my back, then through my hair, and then over my lips. I stood frozen in a mixture of fear and ecstasy as he rested his hand under my neck and passionately pushed his lips onto mine.

  As I felt his mouth
come crashing down onto mine, I realized I had wanted this all along. I wanted it from the first moment I met him, even when I had a boyfriend, even before I really knew it. A large part of me had always wanted Michael. I should have been happy, should have pushed him into a cab and made out with him feverishly in the back seat until we finally arrived at my apartment, but I didn’t. Instead, I stopped him.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I just can’t,” I said, pushing him off of me.

  I felt my face turn about three different shades of red, but I was too mortified to see what his face was doing. I couldn’t confront him. I felt a myriad feelings as I turned abruptly and following in Olivia’s footsteps, ran down the street until I reached the nearest subway.

  Chapter 11

  The morning after

  The next day I woke up feeling a haunting mixture of panic and regret. Panic, because tomorrow I would have to go to class and face Michael, all while keeping my composure. Drawing any outside attention to the situation would be terrible for both of us.

  Regret, because even though Michael had a girlfriend, even though I was still hopelessly in love with Nicholas, and even though it was utterly and entirely wrong, I wanted to kiss him again. Of course, there was the possibility that he and Marge had broken up, or maybe he had every intention of breaking up with her but couldn’t wait any longer to be with me. Maybe the sheer force of our kiss broke whatever spell she had him under and now he was irrevocably in love with me. Unfortunately, my puerile post-make-out, freak-out, likely insured that another kiss would never happen again. I had blown my chance and it was all I could think about on this gray and rainy morning after. I decided to stay in bed and let the stupidity of my actions wash over me.

  Monday.

  I took extra time getting ready that morning, carefully choosing an outfit, gingerly applying my eye make-up, all in an effort to delay the inevitable as much as possible. The inevitable being the awkward and discomfiting encounter I was going to have with Michael in about thirty-five minutes. I put on the finishing touches of my ensemble, including my favorite pair of knee-high boots. I grabbed my hideous over-sized purse that fits all of my books, and headed out into the penetrating cold.

  Even though it was freezing outside, I still opted to walk the few blocks from my apartment to Washington Place. The brisk air was helping at least. Even in the distance, I could see the giant arch, guarding over Washington Square Park. It was still, to this day, my favorite landmark in Manhattan. The Chrysler Building was a close second.

  When I arrived at school, I spotted Alex outside. I felt a wave of panic wash over me.

  He was standing outside of the building, frantically looking around and smoking a cigarette. I walked extra slowly past a crowd of undergrads who were laughing and passing out flyers for a local bar. I felt a wave of jealously of the simplicity of their lives.

  Just as I put my hand on the door, he spotted me.

  “Hastings!” he said, giving me a small wave. He motioned for me to come closer.

  He must know about me and Michael. After all, why else would he be waiting for me outside the building with that anxious look on his face? He was going to berate me about the kiss.

  “What’s going on, Alex?” I asked innocently. “You look a little peaked, is everything alright?”

  He nodded his head and dropped the cigarette onto the floor, not even bothering to step on it.

  “You know we get our midterm grades back today, Hastings?”

  Wow, I thought. This day just got a lot worse.

  “Right, I completely forgot. Our final is next class too, isn’t it?” I asked, still wondering why he had that sullen look on his face.

  “Yeah it is,” he said, blowing off the question.

  I checked my watched and realized if I didn’t leave now, I would be late.

  “Hey, have you seen or spoken to Olivia at all?” he asked, not maintaining eye contact.

  “No,” I shook my head. “I haven’t.” I was convinced that he couldn’t look me in the eye because Michael had told him what happened. “Not since she stormed out of the dinner party that you missed on Saturday”.

  “No,” he replied curtly. “I was there.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” I said, now even more freaked. “I, um, have to go inside and use the ladies’ room before class. I’ll see you in there”.

  I scrambled up the two flights of stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator, and dodged into the restroom. I checked under the stalls; no one was there. I was in the clear.

  Crap, Alex was at the dance! Michael didn’t tell him anything, he saw it himself! I took long, deep relaxing breaths that I had learned one summer while taking Tai Chi, and ordered myself to calm down. Maybe Alex hadn’t seen us; maybe he was just being his usual quirky self and his mood had nothing to do with me whatsoever. I mean, after all, not everything’s about me, right?

  The bathroom door opened and two girls from class walked in. I let out a soft sigh, and one of the girls turned around and gave me a dirty look, I then decided I had to go into class. Luckily, I saw Olivia right away and scrambled to get the seat next to her.

  “Hey, I just saw Alex outside,” I said, determined to talk about anything, or anyone, other than Michael. “He was asking about you.”

  “Oh well he’s going to see me when he comes in, so I guess if he has something to say to me, he can say it then,” she answered, flipping through the pages of her notebook.

  She didn’t appear to be distracted, more like she was ignoring me.

  “Um, Olivia, is everything alright?” I asked, now fearing that she knew the truth as well.

  “Of course, Amalia,” she answered, still not looking up. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

  “Well you kind of darted out of the NYU dinner on Saturday and apparently no one has heard from you since,” I answered, looking straight at her.

  She finally looked up and met my gaze.

  “It was nothing. A family thing, that’s all,” she said, and finally gave me a small smile. Still smiling, she looked past me and said, “Hey, Michael.”

  I quickly turned around, knocking my books and pen on the floor.

  “Let me get that for you,” he started to bend down.

  “I got it!” I said, much more loudly than intended. “I mean, don’t worry about it. I’m the klutz, not you. Go find a seat, really it’s fine.”

  I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop. My nerves were in overdrive, and it didn’t help that he’d come to class that morning looking perfect. I felt as if the universe was punishing me. I did something bad; I kissed another girl’s boyfriend. Well, actually, he kissed me. Either way, the universe was not pleased.

  “Just wanted to say hello, ladies,” I heard him utter.

  “Oh, hey,” I turned to say, but he was gone.

  I watched as Michael made his way to the back of the classroom and found an empty seat near Alex. The two of them would undoubtedly be talking about me and Olivia and our matching tantrums on Saturday night. Still being ignored by Olivia, I sank lower into my seat, hoping that today’s class would go by quickly.

  Chapter 12

  Story Tease

  “How did you do on your midterm?” Cassandra asked, adding Splenda to her skimmed latte.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I hadn’t seen Cassie since the day she bought me the dress for the now-infamous NYU dinner. So when she asked me to meet her after work for coffee at Financier, I couldn’t say no.

  “So Cassandra, what would you say if I told you that something happened?” I twirled the spoon around in my coffee.

  “That’s pretty cryptic, Amy. What do you mean by ‘something’?” she said, only half-listening as she typed with her perfectly manicured nails on her phone.

  I thought back to the days in high school, before everyone I knew had a cell phone, when you had to call someone’s house and hope they would be home to take your call, and then place your trust in t
heir brother, or mother, that they would relay the message that you called back to you. Those days, when I wanted to talk to my best friend about something important, I could rely on her to give me her undivided attention, not ignore me on the go with the latest smartphone application. Desperate to regain her attention, I decided to come right out with it. I looked around the coffee shop, even though we were down in Tribeca, I wanted to make sure no one from school was around to witness what was sure to be an epic freak-out.

  I looked right at Cassandra, who still had her head down. “Michael and I kissed.”

  Cassandra dropped her phone onto the table and pushed her chair back. “You what?” she cried. “Amalia Danette Hastings! You little hussy! I can’t believe you kissed him.”

  I sat there calmly sipping my coffee, which only made her react more alarmingly.

  “Oh no,” I said, now smiling with amusement. “He kissed me. At the dinner last Saturday night.”

  Cassandra looked as if she had been hit in the gut. It was clear by her shocked demeanor that she never actually thought Michael and I would hook up.

  She pulled her chair back in and leaned over the table. She ran hands over her skirt and composed herself.

  “So, how was it?” she asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

  “How was what?” I asked, enjoying her attention a little too much.

  She looked around the room, suddenly aware that we were still downtown and not too far from my school.

  “How was he, you know, in bed?” she asked, grinning. She raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip, desperate for details.

  Now it was my turn to get excited. I held my head in my hands and forcefully pushed the hair away from my face.

  “Woah! Cassie, I didn’t sleep with him. He kissed me outside of the hotel and I sort of freaked out and ran away,” I said, slightly embarrassed by reliving the experience.