“The book is about this really sad man who makes a ton of money all in an effort to woo this woman he has been in love with forever. But at the end, all of his wealth is still not enough. He still doesn’t get her at the end. It’s tragic, really,” Tea says. “And all of these people and their Great Gatsby birthday parties…I mean, what are they thinking?”
I laugh. “I sort of think that maybe they never really read the book at all.”
“And just saw the movie and looked at the glossy pictures?”
“But even if they saw the movie, wouldn’t it be obvious? It’s not like things had worked out in the movie,” I say.
We crack up laughing.
“Hey, do you want to come over to my place after class? Hang out? My roommate’s not getting home until late. I got the new Adele CD. I’d love to have someone to listen to it with.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I really miss that, too. We can crank it up high and just wallow.”
I laugh. “It’s nice to be sad sometimes. Not really sad. Just sad as a result of some lyrics you hear,” I say.
“Being sad vicariously as a result of Adele and her insane vocal talent is much better than being sad in real life,” Tea announces. “I’d love to. But can I get a rain check on it?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug.
“It’s just that I’m sort of seeing someone. And we’re hanging out this afternoon.”
“What?? Really?” I get really excited. “Who is he? How long have you been together? Tell me everything!”
I’m getting a little ahead of myself. But there’s nothing juicier than to hear about a friend’s new love life. Everything is so fresh and unknown. The world is open to every possibility. It feels like anything can happen. And the best thing is that it’s not you who’s going through all this. Not you who’s taking a risk. Not you who’s going to get her heart broken, eventually.
“I met him in the cafeteria. He’s tall and sweet and really hot. Frankly, I don’t really know why he’s seeing me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.
“Oh c’mon. If you ever meet him, you’ll know. He’s like this Greek God or something. Tan. Lean. Strong. And me…well, you know.”
“Tea, please.” I hate hearing her talk about herself like that. It made me both really sad and angry enough to punch her. She had no right. “Tea, you’re beautiful.”
“Alice…”
“Tea, you’re beautiful. How many times do I have to tell you that for you to believe it?”
“Okay, well, if you ever meet him, you’ll understand.”
I sigh. Tea has a gorgeous face and beautiful hair and a curvy body. Very curvy. Perhaps she’s a little overweight, but you’d never know that she feels down on herself by the way she carries herself. While I’m always slouching, she stands up straight. She pushes her 36 DDs out in front of her and carries her head high.
“You’re hopeless,” I say.
“You’re so sweet, Alice. But seriously, I weigh close to 200 pounds. I’m well aware of how I look. I just…I don’t know.”
For a moment, she looks incredibly sad.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I just really hope that this isn’t some sort of joke. This guy isn’t just some average college freshman, Alice. It’s like he’s an Abercrombie and Fitch model. So I just hope that this whole thing between us, I just hope that it’s not a joke.”
“Oh my God! A joke? Why would you even think that?” I gasp.
“Because it happened once in high school. This really popular kid asked me out. I was really excited. I couldn’t believe it. And then, I found out that he had only asked me out because of a dare. It was all this big joke between him and his friends. I was a joke.”
“You were never a joke. He’s an asshole,” I say.
We both crack up. Somehow, we managed to spend almost the entire peer review session talking about anything but our papers.
“Well, have fun with your new guy today,” I say, gathering my papers. “I’m sure he’s for real. You don’t have to worry.”
She doesn’t say anything. When I look up at her, she has a look of concern on her face.
“Alice, would you mind going with me? I just want a second opinion.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He lives in your building. I just want you to pop in with me, chat with him for a moment and then let me know what you think. If he’s for real or not. I just want some moral support.”
I shrug. “Of course. Though, honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to be that much of a help.”
“Please? I’ve only been out with him once before. And it would just make me feel so much better.”
I agree.
* * *
Tea and I make our way back to my dorm. I can feel her getting more and more anxious the closer we get to his place. I try to calm her by talking about the weekend and all the parties that are going on around campus.
“What floor does he live on?” I ask in the elevator.
“16th,” she says, pressing the button.
“That’s my floor!”
“Really? Oh my God, what if you know him already? That would be so great. Then you can tell what he’s really like.”
I shrug. Though that sounds good in general, I don’t really know that many people on my floor. I know most of their names, I think, but I’m not as social as I probably should be. Not sure how much information I can really give her.
The elevator doors open and we step into the hallway.
“You know what room?” I ask.
Tea starts to rummage through her bag. “Yeah, I have it here somewhere.”
I see Tristan and Dylan out of the corner of my eye, coming down the hallway.
“Tea?” Tristan asks.
“Tristan! Hey.” Tea throws her arms around his neck and gives him a warm hug.
And then it hits me. Shit! Oh shit! This can’t be happening, right?
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“This is my friend, Alice,” Tea introduces me. She’s yet to notice that anything’s amiss.
“Yes, I know,” he mumbles.
I stare at Tristan as if we’re locked into some intense staring contest. I feel Tea looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to say anything to her. I don’t even have the energy to break my gaze with Tristan.
“You know?” Tea turns to him and then back to me. “Alice? What’s going on?”
“Um,” I start, but my voice cracks. “Tristan’s…my…ex-boyfriend.”
I pry my eyes from Tristan and turn to Tea. She has an intense look of surprise on her face. It resembles how I feel in this moment. I’m not sure how, exactly, but eventually, I manage to excuse myself and go to my room. I feel like I owe Tea an explanation, but I have nothing to explain. I had no idea that Tristan was the guy that she had been gushing about. This whole situation is an honest mistake.
For the first fifteen minutes of being in my room, I wait for Tea or Tristan or even Dylan to burst in and apologize. At least talk to me. But no one comes in. So instead, I change into my pajamas, take off my bra, and put in my headphones.
I listen to Adele’s song, “Hello.” I turn up the volume and scream on the inside, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.
What is this feeling that pollutes the soul after a break up? It’s gives you an upset stomach and clogs your ears and makes the whole world hazy and a little dark.
And then it hits me.
I’m falling.
I feel like I’m falling and I’ve been feeling like I have been falling ever since we broke up.
It’s strange to be in perpetual motion without the end in sight. It’s like I’d fallen off a building (or maybe I jumped) and have been falling ever since. There were a few moments of slowing down; I wasn’t falling at full speed up until now. But now, I’m falling even faster. Perhaps that means that I’m getting closer to Earth? Closer to a collision?
I close my eyes. Open them. Stare at the ceiling. Flip back on my stomach and look out of the window. Days are getting shorter now. It’s still early, but it’s already twilight. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an ambulance racing down Broadway, its sirens getting closer and closer. I turn up the music.
Tristan and I haven’t talked much since our kiss. I didn’t expect that we would have, but I kind of wanted him to try. Still, once he had avoided me for a few days, I gave up entirely. That kiss was just a blimp in our otherwise non-existent relationship. But still, I didn’t expect him to start dating so soon. Why couldn’t he just sleep around like a normal single, college guy? And why did he have to date Tea? I like Tea. A lot.
16
Dear Tea,
Thank you for being my friend. I’m so sorry that your new boyfriend is my old boyfriend. Both of us could’ve avoided a lot of heartache and disappointment and anxiety if we had just revealed his name. Tristan. It’s such a small word. And yet, it’s impact on our lives, is quite grand. Isn’t it? Hard to believe, really.
Well, I’m writing you this thank you letter to let you know that I’m letting go. That kiss Tristan and I had shared two weeks ago might have meant something, but I’m not going to let it. I’m putting him behind me. Once and for all. You can have him. He’s a great guy, but he’s no longer my guy. I know that. I’m trying to move on. No, not trying. Like that cliché line goes, there is no trying. There’s just doing and not doing. So I’m moving on. From this moment on.
So, to you, Tea, I say thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for finally making me realize that this is over. And that I’m going to be okay.
Love,
Alice
I put my pen down. I should be writing my Great Gatsby paper. It’s due in three days and it doesn’t even have a thesis statement. But this thank you card was more important. I’ve been thinking about Tea and Tristan ever since I saw them together yesterday. Something about writing this thank you card finally made me feel like everything was going to be all right.
“Okay, girlie.” Juliet walks in with two Nordstrom bags. “Enough moping. Does he love me? Will he love me? What does that kiss mean? Oh no, now he has a girlfriend. Can he love me again?”
It’s hard to keep secrets in the dorm, and it’s especially hard to keep secrets from Juliet. I can’t help but smile.
“I know. I’m pathetic, right?” I say.
“Maybe just a little. But you’re not a lost cause.”
“Good. I like the sound of that.”
“Are you ready then? To prove yourself?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug.
Juliet doesn’t look convinced. “Dylan’s birthday’s this weekend and he’s throwing a big party at his father’s place on Central Park.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t think he was allowed there.”
Juliet stares at me, dumbfounded. “I tell you about our roommate’s birthday party and all you can do is focus on the location and whether or not he’s allowed there. You’re quite a difficult girl to impress, Alice.” I shrug and smile. “Anyway, all I know is that he’s having the party there and I got you a dress that I think will be perfect.”
“You got me a dress? Why?”
“Because I’m tired of you moping around the room in those same pajama pants all the time. Wearing the same jeans to class. Honestly, I looked in your closet while you were out and you are in serious need of some grownup clothes. Now this party’s going to be chic. Central Park and all. Not your typical college party. And you need a change in your life. And this dress is just the thing.”
She’s right of course. Juliet’s always right. I often admire how simple everything is for her. She doesn’t overthink things. She doesn’t worry about things she can’t change. She simply moves on with her life. She also has a theory that with the right clothes, you can get anything in life. So if you want some particular job, you just need to get the right clothes. The perfect costume. She’s a born actress and she lives her craft.
I look at the dress that she has picked out for me. If I had gone to the store with her, I would’ve picked out a simple black dress. It’s not that I’m a huge fan of Coco Chanel or the quintessential black dress, it’s just that the black cocktail dress is about all I know about dressing up for cocktail parties in the city. But Juliet has surprised me again. The dress she holds up before me is bright blue with a cinched waist and a v-neck. The skirt bows out in a circle.
My initial reaction is no way. This is so not me.
“This color will go great with your skin and hair,” she says. I decide to trust her instincts before I reject it completely.
Juliet waits for me to pull the dress over my head. I ask her to turn around and she reluctantly agrees.
“We’re roommates! If we can’t see each other naked, or almost naked, who can? Besides, it’s me who should be shy about my body.” She goes on her usual rant. I’ve learned to ignore it. Just the way she has learned to accept my need to change in private.
Juliet zips me up while I stand in front of our door mirror. The dress falls a little above my knees. The circle skirt falls in waves around my hips.
“Don’t you just love how small your waist looks in this? Obviously it’s tiny, but this dress really accentuates it.”
“Yes, I do,” I hate to admit. Is this really the same ridiculous dress that was lying on my bed a few minutes ago? “And it makes my boobs look amazing!”
“So? Where’s my thank you?” Juliet stands back and waits for my gratitude.
“Thank you so much. This dress is beautiful,” I say and throw my arms around her shoulders. “I really love it.”
“Okay, then,” she smiles.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“No, seriously. I want to pay you for it. It’s from Nordstrom.”
“No, seriously, you owe me nothing,” she says with utmost seriousness. “I will not accept any money. But you can pay me in another way,” she says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Anything.”
“You promise to do it?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. “You have to promise before I tell you.”
“Okay, I promise,” I say nonchalantly even though I’m already regretting the decision.
“You have to promise me to kiss someone at this party. A guy. A cute guy.”
I roll my eyes.
“Hey, you promised!” she says, pointing at me.
“Okay, okay. I’ll try,” I say. I look at myself in the mirror. I do look beautiful. While I’m straightening out the dress, I catch the tag hanging from the bottom. Suddenly, I realize the meaning of sticker shock.
Holy crap! I’ve never owned a dress for that much before.
“Juliet, this is too expensive. $450 is too much. You have to let me pay you for it.”
“You are paying for it. You’re going to kiss someone at this party. That’s going to be a lot of work for you, so I’m going to get my money’s worth.”
“And how’s that exactly?”
Julie leans closer to me. “Alice, darling, I’d pay three times that much if that would mean that I would no longer have a roommate who mopes around our room thinking about her ex all day long.”
“I don’t do that!” I say, but I know that’s not true. I had just hoped that I’d been dealing with this Tristan thing in such a way that no one has noticed. But I guess not.
“You do too. But hopefully not after this weekend,” she says. And then her voice gets really serious. “Alice, I just want to show you what you’ve been missing out on.”
“And what’s that exactly?”
“Life as a hot and single 18-year-old in the coolest city in the world. This can be the best year of your life if you play your cards right.”
I think about that for a moment. Juliet’s right. Of course she’s right. I’ve been letting this whole situation with Tristan prevent me from really going out there and live my
best life. And I deserve that. At least, according to Oprah Magazine. I know that on an intellectual level. But it’s about time that I actually knew that on an instinctual level. I do deserve to be happy. I deserve to have a good time. I deserve to have fun.
“That sounds good,” I say. I sit back on my bed and watch Juliet change into her dress. This weekend is going to be my do-over. My new beginning.
17
Dylan’s party is already in full swing when Juliet and I arrive. I’ve never been to such a beautiful apartment before. It’s an astonishing corner property with an enormous wrap terrace. Dylan gives us a tour around the living room, dining room, two master suites, and the three bathrooms. Every room is a corner with two exposures and access to the terrace and there are more than 1000 square feet of outdoor space. Almost every window in the place has a view of the park.
“This is as good as it gets as far as white glove, full-service, pre-war condos with views of the park are concerned,” Dylan explains. “It was practically a steal at $6 million.”
My mouth drops open. I turn to Juliet, but she doesn’t seem fazed. I haven’t been living in New York for long, but I’ve noticed that few real New Yorkers will go out of their way to act impressed with something. Unlike in LA, where people act excited over the smallest things, like having coffee in the same café as Seth Rogen. I’m not sure Los Angelenos are any more impressed than New Yorkers. I’m just certain that they act as if they are.
While Dylan pours us our drinks, I look around at the other guests at the party. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. I was thinking that it would either be an elegant affair or a typical college party. But this is a mashup. A bunch of college kids in expensive suits and five-inch Christian Louboutin heels and plastic red cups and beer pong.
One Year (New & Lengthened Edition) Page 6