I Will Always Love You

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  The new penthouse was on the top floor of a sprawling French Renaissance and German Gothic sandstone building that, on Seventy-second and Central Park West, lay almost exactly across the park from the Fifth Avenue building Blair had grown up in. It may as well have been in a whole other country. They were here because Cyrus was creating a huge development on the west side, but Blair had a feeling that Eleanor had also pushed for the move because she missed her old stomping grounds. Blair didn’t blame her. The few times she’d been out to LA, she’d hated it. The clothes were gaudy, the hair and boobs fake, and you had to drive everywhere. Even the sun felt too accosting and bright.

  Blair had finally gotten used to Eleanor and Cyrus living in LA, though, and now that she was planning to move to New York after graduation, she wasn’t sure she wanted them in the same time zone, much less the same city. The only good thing about the move was that she could see her sister, Yale, more often. Yale might even grow up relatively normal if they spent enough time together.

  Or not. Normal is highly overrated.

  Blair shivered and hugged her arms around her chest. It was surprisingly warm for December, but she was only wearing a silky black and tan Chloé halter sheath. She wasn’t quite ready to go back inside, where Eleanor and Cyrus were hosting a holiday party for all the Upper East Side couples they’d been friends with for years, including the van der Woodsens, the Coateses, and the Basses. Chuck was still in England, due back on Christmas, so Blair had to fend for herself. It was times like these a long-distance relationship was hard. At Yale, she kept busy with classes and the college friends she’d made, but in New York she hated being all alone.

  Blair gazed down at streetlight-lined paths that zigzagged through the dark expanse of Central Park greenery. It just felt so wrong to be looking at the park from this angle.

  The terrace door slid open and her stepbrother, Aaron Rose, stepped outside, carrying Yale on his hip and a glass of champagne in one hand. Aaron was a senior at Harvard, insisted on wearing his hair in little brown dreadlocks, and had spent all of last year on a study-abroad program in Burkina Faso. Now, starry-eyed at the notion of making a difference in third-world countries, he was in the process of applying to the Peace Corps to an even more remote third-world country.

  “Hey sis!” Aaron said cheerfully, taking a large swig of champagne as he set Yale down. Yale had large blue eyes, dark brown hair tied back with a dark red ribbon, and wore a green velvet Bonpoint party dress. Blair grinned. She was fucking adorable.

  The second coming of Blair Waldorf?

  “Let’s go inside—it’s cold!” she said, holding her hand out to her baby sister. Blair wasn’t exactly the maternal type, but the almost-four-year-old was impossible to resist.

  “No!” Yale stomped her foot indignantly. “I don’t like anyone in there,” she whined as she intertwined her sticky fingers in Blair’s manicured ones. Aaron burst out laughing.

  Blair picked up Yale, inhaling the scent of her baby shampoo. “Don’t worry, Yaley, I don’t like anyone either.”

  Together, Blair and Yale swept through the sliding door of the terrace and into the expansive living room. Eleanor hadn’t begun decorating yet, so the entire room was empty save for a large Douglas fir that skimmed the vaulted cathedral ceiling. In a way, the room looked more impressive without furniture. The white moldings of the ceiling contrasted with the dark oak of the window ledges, and the art deco chandelier cast a romantic glow against the cherrywood floors.

  “Blair, darling!” Misty Bass caught Blair’s elbow. She was an imperious-looking woman with a crisp blond bob who never left the house without first putting on a large amount of jewelry.

  “You know, darling, seeing you with your adorable baby sister makes me imagine you as a mother,” Misty said, leaning in close. Blair practically recoiled from the scent of her spicy perfume. “I know both your mom and I would love grandchildren! After the wedding, of course,” she added sternly.

  Blair smiled tightly. Who said anything about marriage? She and Chuck had been dating for over a year, and they’d spent the entire summer at her dad’s South of France vineyard, but they’d been separated by the Atlantic Ocean for the past three months. Besides, what was this, 1952? She was going to get a job after graduation, not an entryway ring.

  “Blair!” Yale whispered urgently, tugging on Blair’s hand. “I have to pee.”

  “Looks like you need to attend to the little one!” Misty reached out to ruffle Yale’s hair.

  “Ow!” Yale yelped loudly.

  “Oh.” Misty drew her hand back and pursed her lips as if she’d sucked on a lemon. “I’m sorry, little dear.”

  “Nice to see you!” Blair called over her shoulder as she ran Yale toward the nursery. “Good job,” she whispered in Yale’s ear as she brushed past guests. “I owe you a pony.”

  Sounds like she’ll make a fine mother.

  Once Yale was safely deposited in the arms of her nanny, Bridget, Blair reentered the party, determined to avoid Misty for the rest of the night. She scanned the room to see if any of her old friends had tagged along with their parents. Last she’d heard, Nate was attending Brown and shacking up with Jenny Humphrey. She saw Serena on campus often enough, usually talking on her cell or walking quickly across the quad, latte in hand. She’d never said hello. She’d almost gotten to the point where Serena could be anyone on campus—like Emily, an annoying red-haired girl in Blair’s Shakespeare class who read each line as if she were a member of the Royal National Theater. Serena was just a vaguely familiar, vaguely annoying face who had nothing to do with Blair’s real life.

  “Blair, darling! Over here!” Her mother’s unmistakable voice floated over the string quartet playing holiday music in the corner. At the entryway, Eleanor Waldorf waved frantically, her Cartier tennis bracelets jangling on her wrist. She wore a silver, cleavage-baring dress that might have been acceptable for a party at a producer’s house in the Hollywood Hills but was completely inappropriate for New York, even if it was on the Upper West Side. “Look who’s here,” Eleanor crowed. Blair’s eyes flicked to her mother’s side and landed on Serena.

  Serena, wearing a tight red Catherine Malandrino dress, squeezed Eleanor around the waist as if they were long-lost bosom buddies. Her hair was impossibly long and shiny, her skin glowing and tanned, as if she’d just returned from a sun-drenched Maldives vacation.

  Blair set her mouth in a firm line and marched over to them.

  “My two favorite girls!” Eleanor said fondly, pathetically unaware anything was amiss between them. “I was just telling Serena how terrific it is that you two have had each other all these years. I felt good moving to California knowing Serena was in New York for you to come home to.” Eleanor rested her hand on Blair’s shoulder.

  Blair hadn’t told her mom she and Serena hadn’t even spoken this past year, how every time they saw each other they managed to have an enormous fight, how Serena was like some bloodsucking leech, desperate to take everything of Blair’s and literally ruin her life.

  “I feel the same way, Eleanor,” Serena said sweetly, knowing it was what Blair’s mom wanted to hear. “I like knowing Blair’s at Yale, even though I hardly see her. She’s so busy with pre-law and everything.” In truth, she didn’t know if Blair even was a political science major with a concentration in pre-law anymore. She sometimes saw Blair around campus, striding across the lawn with a group of girls or her advisor. Blair always looked so confident and capable and in control, like a picture torn out of a Yale catalog.

  Meanwhile, Yale still felt like a holding place for Serena. While she knew a lot of people, she hadn’t made any real friends, especially since she spent every weekend with Dan in the city. It felt like she spent Monday through Thursday waiting for the weekends and her real life to begin.

  “What are you majoring in, dear?’ Eleanor asked, plucking a mini quiche off a passing tray. “Do you have any idea what you’ll be doing after college?”

  “I don’t kn
ow. I thought I had a few more semesters of undergrad, but it turns out I don’t.” Serena shook her head. There was a silver lining to missing Dan and having no social life: It had forced Serena to keep herself busy, signing up for back-to-back lectures and seminars. Her advisor had called her in for a meeting on the last day of finals. Serena had been nervous, sure she’d failed a philosophy exam or accidentally forgotten to turn in a French paper. Instead, she found out that because she’d amassed so many credits from her regular classes and classes at the New School while she was in New York, she’d be able to graduate in spring without having majored in anything. Serena bit her lip and shrugged. “I’m graduating in May, so I have to figure it out.”

  What? Blair wanted to throw her champagne glass on the floor. “How?” she spat. Serena had started college a full two years after Blair, and hadn’t even taken as many AP classes as she had back in high school. In fact—Blair racked her brain—had Serena even taken any?

  Who needs APs when you’ve got charm?

  “I took a bunch of New School classes the year before I started, and I’ve been taking a lot of credits. I didn’t know, though.” Serena shrugged blithely. “Dan got into grad school for poetry at Iowa, so I might go there.” She hadn’t mentioned it to Dan, but really, it didn’t seem like such a bad option. Wasn’t Iowa City supposed to be really quaint? And what else would she do?

  Um, get a life?

  Good riddance, Blair wanted to scream. Serena could go off to Iowa and live on a farm and milk cows, or whatever people did there.

  “That sounds amazing. You should definitely go there,” Blair said, so sweetly that no one but her nearest, dearest, and greatest enemies would hear the threatening subtext.

  “How marvelous to be dating an artist. That’s how Cyrus is. Always seeing the world a different way,” Eleanor mused, gazing adoringly at her tubby, bald, red-faced, gold cuff bracelet–-wearing husband. He’d gotten fatter in the four years since they’d been married, something that hardly seemed possible.

  What Cyrus and art had to do with each other Blair didn’t know. “I’m starting at McMahon Cannon,” she announced to no one in particular. Or she would be once she got the official offer. McMahon Cannon was one of the premiere litigation firms in the city and would look great on her résumé when she applied to law school. Her interview had gone well… she hadn’t tried to kiss the interviewer, thank God, and they’d had a nice conversation about Yale. She was confident that she would be accepted.

  “That’s great, Blair,” Serena said, sounding so genuinely happy for her that Blair wanted to tear her pretty blond hair out of her head one bloody clump at a time. She reminded herself that while Serena was going to be reading poetry to cornstalks, she was going to be wearing power suits and Louboutin pumps and doing things that mattered.

  “You girls were always so ambitious!” Eleanor trilled, then headed off to the kitchen to ensure that Myrtle, the cook, was handling the dinner preparations exactly according to her no-carb specifications and hadn’t drunk herself into a frenzy.

  “Well, glad everything’s going well with you,” Blair said flatly, making her way toward the dining room table.

  Serena nodded and sank down into her assigned seat next to Blair. The two girls stared quietly down at their empty plates. They were inches apart, but it felt like miles.

  There, there. A reconciliation might be closer than you think.

  love is blind… and embarrassing

  Jenny felt like a movie star as she slid out of the leather seat of the Lincoln Town Car and onto Seventy-second and Central Park West. She teetered slightly on her four-inch heels.

  “You okay?” Nate asked, catching her by the crook of her elbow. Jenny nodded gratefully and leaned against him for support. He smelled like Ralph Lauren Romance. Jenny had always wanted a boyfriend who used that cologne.

  Which was exactly why she’d given him a bottle for his birthday.

  Nate squeezed her shoulder. “You sure, Meow?” he asked, using his pet name for her. They’d called each other Meow Meow ever since an orange and white tabby kitten appeared on their Providence porch. She’d begged Nate to let her bring it inside the house, just once. But Nate refused. He hadn’t wanted to be an asshole about it; he just really hated cats. They were so creepy, the way they climbed on top of you when you least suspected it, the way they couldn’t play fetch, the way they stared at you while you were naked.

  Sort of like girlfriends.

  But instead of sulking, Jenny made a joke out of it. She began acting like a cat at the most random times, crawling toward him on her hands and knees in bed and making pleading little meows that made him laugh. That was the thing about Jenny. She was sunny and sweet and uncomplicated. It made him feel not so fucked up, not so confused. And he needed that in his life, especially tonight. He was pretty sure they were going to see Blair and Serena for the first time since their disastrous Christmas in Newport last year.

  “We’re here for the Rose party,” Nate told the doorman.

  The doorman nodded and waved them through to the elevator bank on the other side of the palatial marble lobby. A large Christmas tree was set up in the corner and the air smelled like pine and nutmeg.

  Jenny caught her breath, trying to hold in her excitement. She and Nate lived in a ramshackle two-story house in Providence. He was at Brown, she was at RISD, and everything almost seemed too good to be true, beyond her wildest high school daydreams. But going to a fancy pre-Christmas dinner thrown by a New York society hostess proved that their relationship existed beyond Providence, that they were really and truly together.

  After leaving Newport last Christmas, they’d sailed to Mt. Desert Island and camped out in Nate’s family’s gorgeous unwinterized summer home. They toasted the New Year on a blanket in front of the fire. It was impossibly romantic. Then, her last semester at Waverly they’d talked every night on the phone. They spent the summer sailing and house hunting in Providence. So far, living together had been amazing. She loved waking up to Nate. She loved brewing an extra-large pot of coffee and pouring a travel mug for him so he could drink it during his 9 a.m. poli-sci class. She loved texting him in between portraiture and her Art in New Media class, and she loved attempting to make dinner for them, even though most of the time they wound up just ordering in and eating in bed.

  The elevator glided up to the top floor, and they followed the merry voices and jazzy sound of Miles Davis to the door at the end of the hall. Nate pushed it open and Jenny breathed in again. In a New York in History and Literature class she’d taken last year at Waverly, they’d discussed the importance of the Four Hundred—the prominent New Yorkers who could comfortably fit into Mrs. Astor’s grand ballroom circa 1880. Walking into the large living room of Eleanor Waldorf’s Central Park West penthouse made her feel like she was part of the new Four Hundred—the New Yorkers who really mattered.

  “Nathaniel!” A woman with gold highlights approached them. “Blair will be so thrilled to see you. Everyone is just getting seated. I put you in between Blair and Serena.”

  Mothers.

  “Oh.” A shadow of a frown crossed the woman’s face as she noticed Jenny standing by Nate’s side.

  Jenny blushed. Had she done something wrong? “Hello,” she said.

  “I’m Eleanor Waldorf,” Blair’s mother replied, looking at Jenny’s thrust-out hand without shaking it. Jenny let her hand fall slack against her side.

  “Jenny’s my girlfriend. We’re both in Providence for school,” Nate explained. Behind Eleanor’s shoulder, he glimpsed Blair and Serena making their way to the table. He could only see their backs, but Serena’s hair was blonder than ever while Blair’s chestnut hair was loose and long, hanging down to her shoulder blades.

  “Lovely. Well, I’ll set up another seat.” Eleanor gestured toward the large dining room.

  “Natie!” Serena grinned when she spotted her old friend making his way toward them, Jenny Humphrey clinging to his hand. Nate looked the same as
ever, clad in a Brooks Brothers jacket, neat dress pants, and a kelly green Hermès tie. “And Jenny.”

  “Nate,” Blair said, nodding. She turned to the beak-nosed man seated next to her, as if they were engaged in a very important conversation she just had to continue.

  “Hey,” Nate mumbled, unsure of whether or not he should sit. There was only one seat available, right in between them. Of course, he’d known Blair and Serena would be here, but it still took his breath away to see them. They both looked so grown-up. Blair wore a sexy black-and-tan halter dress, Serena a tight red dress that hugged her body. Seeing them, so secure and confident and beautiful, momentarily made him flustered. It would’ve been nice to have smoked a large bowl before coming here. He rarely smoked pot anymore, but he often missed it. Especially when he was stressed out. And this was the most stressed out he’d been since…

  Last Christmas?

  Jenny tugged his arm. “I’ll sit on your lap for now!” she announced, giggling. Against his better judgment, Nate sat on the chair and Jenny slid onto his knees, wiggling back and forth until she found a comfortable perch.

  Serena rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she took a swig of her wine. “I would have brought Dan, but I didn’t know he was invited.”

  “Oops,” Jenny squeaked nervously. Her curly dark hair was right underneath Nate’s chin, and Nate could smell her lilac-scented shampoo. It reminded him of taking showers together. But instead of picturing Jenny in the shower, an image of Blair popped into his head. Nate squeezed his eyes shut to block out those memories, concentrating only on the feel of Jenny resting on his lap.

  “Wine?” a white-shirted server asked behind Nate’s shoulder, proffering a bottle of vintage 1981 L’Evangeline Bordeaux.

  “Meow Meow?” Nate asked before picking up Jenny’s glass. Jenny nodded her consent. As the waiter poured, Nate nuzzled Jenny’s dark curls with his nose.

  Serena shot Blair a horrified glance, surprised to find Blair’s face contorted into an equally horrified grimace. Meow Meow?