by Jill Knapp
“Oh, right. Actually, he has to work so he told me he’s going to make it up to me one night next week.” She pretended to flip through a magazine.
“He has to work?” I asked, eyebrows raised high. “Isn’t Valentine’s Day this Sunday?”
Cassandra started uncomfortably shifting around in her chair. “Yeah, well sometimes he has to go in on Sundays.”
All I could think of to do was nod and smile, although I found it alarming Bryce had to work on Valentine’s Day, and wondered if it was a bald lie.
“Well, that’s good news for me,” I said. “Since I just so happen to be single and available on Sunday, you and I will do something.”
Cassandra let out a laugh. “Where are we going to go? All of the restaurants jack up their prices and reservations are made weeks in advance.”
“We can go to the movies and see something completely un-romantic, like that new zombie movie that just came out,” I said enthusiastically.
I was beginning to feel that persuading Cassie to hang out with me on Sunday might be more for my benefit than hers. Much to my relief, she accepted my offer of “co-patheticness,” and agreed a girls’ night was just what we needed.
“Should we ask Olivia too?” she asked as we made our way to the dryers.
“No, she’s dating someone,” I reminded her. “Someone” being the operative word.
“Right!” She plopped down on the stool. “Do we know who this guy is yet? I mean, it’s been months!”
“I know,” I said, trying not to touch anything with my still-wet fingertips. “I think it’s time to do some digging and find out just who this mystery man is.”
“We’re really doing her a favor. For example, he could be married,” she said.
“Or a serial killer,” I offered.
“Or worse. He could be from Brooklyn.” She laughed.
“She lives in Brooklyn,” I said defensively, even though I was laughing now too.
“That’s right!” Cassie said. “Oh, poor Olivia. She’s doomed.”
“Is it just me, or do the three of us all have dysfunctional dating lives?” I asked, still laughing.
Cassandra just nodded. The two of us were laughing so hard, the other patrons turned and looked at us disapprovingly.
“We need to get out of here before we get thrown out,” I whispered as I carefully grabbed my purse and led Cassandra out of the salon.
When I got back to my apartment, I was utterly surprised to see Christina and Liz sitting next to each other on the couch, watching television.
“Hey you two,” I said dropping my purse onto the table.
“Hey!” Christina said, sounding overly chipper. Liz looked up from the television and gave me a small nod.
“I haven’t seen the two of you in weeks. Do you even still live here?” I said jokingly as I removed my heavy winter coat.
I could feel my fingertips and toes begin to thaw as I took a seat next to them on the couch. Liz didn’t answer me; she just continued to stare at the television. Christina glanced at her, and quickly jumped in.
“I just figured it was time the three of us all got a chance to spend some time together,” Christina said with a nod.
“Oh, absolutely,” I lied.
“Great!” she said, a little too loudly. “So let’s all watch a movie and order take-out. What do you say?”
A long awkward silence made me feel uncomfortable to be in my own home. Liz lifted her head and finally spoke.
“Fine,” she said, as if she was agreeing to something completely arduous, like helping someone move, instead of eating dinner with her two roommates. “But as you know, I’m a vegan. So it has to be from some place I can actually eat from.”
Christina gave me a pleading look, as if to say “help me!”
I cleared my throat and said, “I know a few good places we can order from, like Café Blossom.”
“All right,” said Liz, as she returned her attention to the television.
I glanced over at Christina, who motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen. I grabbed the kettle and started to heat some water, then grabbed a few cookies out of the cabinet.
“Listen, Christina, I’m all for bonding, but what is going on with her?” I asked, reaching for a mug from the top shelf.
“Tim left her,” she blurted out.
I spun around at the sound of this news, nearly knocking the kettle right off the burner.
“She showed up at the apartment, and he just broke up with her out of nowhere. He packed all of her stuff and put it in boxes before she even got there. He just left everything on the stoop. He wouldn’t even let her come inside!” she said, with alarmingly wide eyes.
I was stunned by this information, and a little shaken by how similar it was to mine and Nicholas’s break-up. More importantly, I was left to wonder if that meant Liz was going to be living here full time again. I thought back to the last time Liz and I were in a room together for more than a five-minute period, and decided it had to have been the dinner at NYU.
“I can’t believe he did that. What an asshole. Did he say why he was breaking up with her?” I asked, with feigned concern.
Christina moved closer to me, her brown eyes so wide they looked as if they were going to pop right out of her tiny pretty head. “He told her he met someone else, and that he wants to marry her,” she said dramatically. “What kind of jerk does this to a girl a few days before Valentine’s Day?”
I peered out of the kitchen and caught a glimpse at Liz. She looked catatonic, just staring at the television. Upon closer look, her perfectly applied eye make-up had smudged down to her cheekbones; evidence she had been crying, although she would most likely never admit to it. She was dressed in over-sized black sweatpants and a black undershirt, a large contrast from her usual mysterious appearance. Even her fire-red hair looked dirty and frizzy, as if she had been walking through the rain for an hour. I had to admit, she looked like a pathetic mess. I didn’t know what to say to Christina, I just shook my head and poured myself a myg of tea. Even though I didn’t particularly like Liz, I still felt sorry for her. I knew exactly how she felt – blindsided. As if someone had ripped the relationship rug right out from underneath her, with no warning. Exactly how I felt when Nick left me after our first real fight. I turned back into the kitchen and fumbled through the top drawer, which was stuffed with take-out menus, and pulled out the one for Dojo.
“She likes this place,” I said sympathetically. “I think I have a bottle of white wine in the fridge we can drink with dinner. Maybe that’ll take the edge off of today’s events.”
I circled what I wanted, and then handed the menu to Christina.
“I’m going to hop in the shower. Let me know how much I owe you,” I said as I walked out of the room.
By the time I got out of the shower, Liz had consumed half of the bottle of Riesling I had stashed in the back of the fridge. Under normal circumstances, I would have gotten angry that she and Christina didn’t wait for me until they dove into my liquor, but given the circumstances I forgave them. A few minutes later, the buzzer sounded and Christina went downstairs to retrieve our dinner.
“How much do I owe you?” I said as I wrapped a towel around my soaking-wet hair.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said waving her hand. “Besides, we totally drank most of your wine. Sorry!”
I looked over at Liz, who had managed to go from catatonically depressed to angry drunk in a matter of twenty minutes.
“Whatever. I’ll pay you for your stupid wine,” she slurred belligerently, as she took another large gulp.
“Don’t be ridiculous! You need it more than I do,” I said.
She looked up from her glass and shot back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I looked over to Christina and mouthed the word “help.” She quickly walked over to the coffee table, and raised the brown bag of food over her head.
“Who wants vegetable dumplings?” she offered, in
an attempt to diffuse the situation.
“Let me help you with that.” I grabbed some paper plates and napkins.
The three of us sat on the couch, drinking cheap wine and eating overpriced, vegan organic Chinese food. It occurred to me this was the first time the three of us had ever shared a meal together. It was kind of nice, even though the circumstances under which it occurred could have been more jovial. Liz looked at me for a moment, and I gave her a small smile. I expected her to smile back, to thank me for trying to make her feel better, or at least for recognizing that I too went through a similar situation not too long ago.
Instead, she said, “Are you done with those spring rolls, Amalia? Or did you plan on finishing the entire plate?”
Chapter 24
I Hate Valentine’s Day
I stood shivering outside the movie theatre in Union Square and watched as seemingly everyone in Manhattan was happily engrossed in their Valentine’s Day joy. I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched happy couples, holding hands, walk into Max Brenner directly across the street. Not only was that my favorite restaurant, but the very place Nicholas and I had spent Valentine’s Day last year. We had come here right after Nick and I exchanged gifts at my apartment. I thought about the shiny red wrapping paper and the homemade card, which honestly looked as if it was fashioned by a fifth-grader. But when I opened the present, I found a beautiful white-gold ring with sapphire stones surrounding a small, slightly impaired, diamond. It was the most beautiful gift I had ever gotten besides the diamond studs my grandmother had given me when I graduated high school.
“I want you to wear this as a daily reminder that one day I am going to get you a real engagement ring. With a much bigger diamond of course,” he had said as he slipped the ring on my hand.
My friends all thought the idea was ridiculous, that we were too old to be wearing promise rings, but I thought it was sweet and romantic. So much for that promise.
I was shocked out of my trance as a large gust of freezing cold wind slapped me in the face, causing my hair to fly over my eyes and into my mouth. As usual, Cassandra was running late. I was just about to pull out my phone and text her for the second time, when I saw her getting out of a cab on the corner of 13th and Broadway.
“I know, I’m late. I’m sorry!” she practically sang as she ran over to me.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve got the tickets. Let’s get inside.”
I turned to walk into the theatre, anticipating the warm welcoming air, but quickly realized I was on my own.
“Did I tell you Bryce texted me earlier today?” she said with an oversized grin. She grabbed her phone out of her new purse and shoved it in my face. “He told me to have a wonderful V-Day, and he’s thinking of me. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Adorable,” I said growing more frostbitten. “Can we please go inside now? The movie is going to start in less than ten minutes.”
“Yes let’s—” she started to say, but stopped mid-sentence.
“Cassandra?” I asked, but she was staring at something across the street. I followed her gaze to the same restaurant I had just been reminiscing over. Standing in front was an unmistakable Bryce.
Bryce, and another woman.
“He…was working,” she stammered.
Before I could offer any kind of fabricated solace, Bryce put his arm around the curvy brunette and leaned in for a kiss. The two of them looked cozy together, wrapped in each other’s arms in an embrace that lasted for almost a minute. I looked over at Cassandra, but she was gone. I spun around looking for her, and noticed she was halfway across the street, making a beeline for Bryce and the mystery girl.
“Oh no,” I said to no one in particular, and made my way across the street, dodging taxis and almost taking out a delivery boy on his bike.
Too late. Cassandra had already made her way over to Bryce, and was tapping him on the shoulder.
“Hello, darling,” she said in a sweet and seductive voice.
Bryce turned around and his face went white.
“Um, Cassie, hey,” he uttered, with undeniable panic in his voice.
“Who is this?” the mystery girl said.
She had a thick South American accent, possibly Argentine.
“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Cassandra. You know, the girl Bryce has been seeing for the past four months. And you are?” Cassandra said with frightening calmness.
Bryce just stood there with a petrified look on his face. He looked over to me for help, but I just smirked and shook my head at him.
“My name is Ariana,” she said, turning to Bryce. “And I have been dating Bryce for two months myself.”
This news would have been enough for me to possibly throw a punch, although I’m not sure who would have been on the receiving end.
Cassandra, however, kept her cool. “Wow, you’ve only been dating for two months and he’s already taking you out for Valentine’s Day dinner? That’s so sweet of him. He never did any of that for me, he just gave me the keys to his apartment.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a keychain with about four different keys. “But that was probably just so I could come over for a late-night screw,” she said as she fiddled with the key chain.
The other girl and Bryce just stood there as Cassandra tossed Bryce’s key up and down, catching it over and over in her right hand.
“You see, Ariana, I really did like Bryce. Hell, maybe I even loved him. But now I see he’s nothing more than a lying, cheating douche-bag. So he’s all yours, sweetheart. I’m done.” She kept her eyes fixed on Bryce the entire time.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He folded his arms in front of his chest.
“It means exactly what it sounds like, asshole.” Cassandra smiled wickedly. “Have a nice life.”
She tossed the key in the air, but this time let it fall into a sewer drain. I took her by the arm and the two of us walked back across the street to the movie theatre. We walked into the theatre in silence and found seats. After the coming attractions started, she finally spoke.
“Amalia,” she said, as she scooped out a handful of popcorn. “I hate Valentine’s Day.”
Chapter 25
Are you happy?
“Thank God it’s almost March,” I said through chattering teeth, as I pulled my jacket tighter.
“Not a big fan of the cold?” Michael put his arm around me.
I shook my head. “I think I might need to move to southern California or Florida. Somewhere where it’s always warm.”
We were sitting on top of the Highline, down in Chelsea. I always thought it was strange to turn an old subway line into a park. We cozied up on a bench somewhere between 35th and 40th, partly because it was a great place to spend the day, but mainly because Chelsea was a neighborhood where we didn’t know anyone and could spend time together without getting caught. The constant lying was getting to me. Even though Cassie and Olivia both knew, I was finding it more difficult to keep my cool around Alex. Whenever I was around him lately, he seemed very jumpy. I was starting to think Michael had told him what was going on. I took a sip of my coffee. The hot cup warmed my frozen hands.
“Can you believe the semester’s going to be over in less than three months?” I asked, without looking Michael in the eyes.
I found it was easier to get through the rest of my day if I didn’t look directly into Michael’s eyes. Thankfully, the coffee gave me something to do with my hands.
“You’re leaving right after it ends, right?” Michael asked, looking right at me.
“Yup,” I took another sip. “I’ll be gone practically the entire summer.”
A few months ago, I was so excited to leave for this trip, but now I felt like it might not be the best idea.
“You don’t sound too excited about it.” Michael turned his entire body to face me.
“No, I am,” I said quickly. “How could I not be?”
I probably didn’t sound too convincing. I wracked my brain for topics to change the su
bject. “What about you? What are your plans this summer?” I asked.
I instantly wished I hadn’t asked about his plans, fearing he would answer with some lavish vacation he and Marge were embarking on. I thought constantly of their relationship and what it must be like. He never spoke an ill word about her, which only made my guilt more consuming.
“I’ll actually be starting an internship a week after classes end at Langone Medical Center, downtown,” he said as he took the coffee cup out of my hand and pulled me closer.
“One week after? Wow, that’s not much of a break,” I mumbled nervously.
His arm wound around my waist, as if I didn’t have enough goosebumps already. Instead of answering, he just looked at me with a small smile. This time, I couldn’t avoid eye contact. Michael brushed the windblown mess of my hair out of my face, and softly kissed me.
I wanted to let him kiss me. I wanted to feel the warm envelopment of his arms wrapped around me. I wanted it so much that I pulled away. I softly pushed him off me, and moved over on the bench, just far enough that our knees were no longer pressing against one another’s.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
I couldn’t figure out how to explain this feeling. I couldn’t find the words to tell him how every time we kissed, I needed two days’ worth of recovery to feel like myself again, not like some pathetic love-sick puppy. I looked up and he was staring at me, waiting for me to speak. Waiting for me to explain myself.
Suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. An impulsive rush, a sort of word vomit was coming up with no reserve. I blame the fight-or-flight hormones; they’re so hard to control. I had to know if he was happy with Marge, or if he was planning on leaving her. I had to know if I meant anything at all to him, or if he was just using me for sex while his girlfriend did God knew what in Arizona.
I whipped around on the bench so I was facing him, nearly knocking my coffee over, but I didn’t care. For once, it was time for me to look him in the eyes. My shakiness was gone and I felt strong enough to find out the answer to the question I had been avoiding for months.