by Jill Knapp
Alex and I just looked at each other and then slowly reached for our laptops.
“So, there you have it. I’m Professor Greenfield and I just moved to this godforsaken city a few weeks ago. I spent the last twenty years teaching and doing research at UNC-Charlotte, and now it looks like I am here for good.”
I glanced over at Michael, who was nervously fiddling with a pen. It wasn’t like him to show any signs of vulnerability. It wasn’t clear if it was the professor or Amalia’s return who was making him nervous.
“That’s Dr. Greenfield? The professor you were talking about this morning?” Amalia whispered to me. As soon as she did, the professor shot up and directed his attention to our back row.
“Excuse me, miss?” Dr. Greenfield’s southern drawl landing on the word miss. “Do you have a question?”
“Actually, I do,” Amalia said, shocking us all. Maybe Brazil had done wonders for her self-esteem.
“Well then, stand up so I can hear you,” Greenfield challenged.
Amalia and I exchanged glances. Alex kept his head down and Angela pretended to be engrossed with whatever she was writing in her notebook.
“Go ahead, you’ll be fine,” Michael whispered to her.
“I am fine,” she shot back.
She stood up, and I half expected her to pull a microphone out of her purse. But instead she stood there immobile as over fifty pairs of eyes turned around in their seats to watch her. Finally, she swallowed hard enough for us to hear and spoke.
“I heard you were running a work-study program and that you are looking for research assistants. Is that true?”
The entire room spun back around, eager to hear the professor’s response. Dr. Greenfield just smiled, the kind of smile where you can’t really tell if the person is happy or has just figured out a marvelous way to spend the next few months torturing you. He pulled out his chair, which made a scratching sound as it dragged across the old hardwood floors, and slowly lowered himself down.
“You want to be part of my research team?” he smirked.
“I do,” Amalia said, unwavering. “I think it’s a great opportunity.”
I heard a few students whispering to themselves. I couldn’t really make out what anyone was saying. Just a few select words like stipend, difficult, and competitive.
“Well, then, you can email me tonight and we can set up a time for you to be interviewed,” he said calmly, sitting back down in his chair. “That goes for all of you. Anyone who thinks they have what it takes to work with me for the next year or two can email me after class and schedule an interview. The program will begin next semester, and if you are accepted you will have to take the second half of this course. Which is also taught by me.” He cracked his knuckles and gave us all a nod. “Oh, and I’m only picking three of you.”
Amalia sunk back down in her chair. Alex gave my hand a little squeeze and whispered in my ear, “You should set up an interview.”
I whispered back, “Maybe I will.”
“One more thing,” Dr. Greenfield added, standing back up again. “This research position will be paid through work study, which means you have to treat this as a job. The last research assistant I had didn’t treat it that way. He was slower than molasses going uphill in January, so I fired him. Don’t make me fire you. It also means you need to first find out if you even qualify for work study. Don’t schedule an interview until you find out whether or not you qualify.”
I made out about every other word of Dr. Greenfield’s speech, then turned to Amalia and whispered, “We’ll sign up together.”
She didn’t say a word. She just sat in silence and nodded over and over again.
“Now if y’all don’t mind, I’d like to start my class,” Greenfield said, pulling out a large textbook from his briefcase. “Welcome to your second year of graduate school. Only one more year to go. Let’s hope you all make it. As I’ve already said, I’m Dr. Greenfield and this is Advanced Social Psychology. This class will begin promptly every Monday morning at 9 am and it will end at 11. It will not be easy. The word Social does not automatically imply that we will be watching Girl, Interrupted and then writing an eight-page paper on how it made us feel. You will work hard, and your work will be handed in on time. If you can’t do this then by all means, please leave.”
No one dared move.
“Alright, then,” he said, turning on the projector. “Let’s get started.”
Two hours and four “y’all’s” later, Social Psych. had come to an end, and I never felt like I needed a cigarette more in my entire life. The five of us numbly made our way to the elevators.
“Wow,” Angela ran her manicured fingers through her glossy, dark hair. “That was certainly something.”
“Are you going to sign up to schedule an interview with him for his research project?” I asked.
“I would love to,” she said. The second she did, Amalia’s blue eyes widened. “Unfortunately, I know I don’t qualify for work study. I tried to sign up for something last year and my application was declined.”
“That sucks,” Alex said, pushing the down button next to the elevator.
“Really?” Amalia spun around, facing all four of us. “It sucks that she was rejected for a program because she essentially either makes or has too much money to qualify?” Her voice rising slightly at the end. A few other students nearby pretended not to hear her mini outburst.
Angela lowered her head and Michael put a supportive hand on her shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, Amalia glanced over to me and I passed her a sympathetic glance. Even though she and Michael had never officially dated, it still had to be hard to see him with another girl.
Just as the elevator door open, Amalia rubbed her face and then smoothed over her top.
“I’m sorry, that was rude,” she said to Angela. Angela just shrugged and smiled. “It’s just that I don’t even have a place to live, so I’m feeling a little on edge right now.”
We all piled into the elevator and I hit the button for the ground floor.
“What do you mean you don’t have a place to live?” Michael asked, his hand no longer on Angela’s shoulder.
“I mean, I got rid of my apartment when I left for Brazil a few months ago, remember?” she explained. “I couldn’t afford it anyway.”
“So where are you staying?” he asked, turning his body toward hers.
Amalia let out a small laugh and started nervously fiddling with her hair.
“First I was staying with Cassandra, but I got the distinct feeling she didn’t want me there, so now I am staying with Olivia,” she pointed at me.
“It’s true,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “We’re roomies for the time being.”
The elevator dinged once more and we all exited on the ground floor, making our way out into the blinding sun.
“I take it the apartment-hunting didn’t go too well, then?” Alex asked, sympathetically.
“No,” Amalia and I said in unison. I got a flash of that terrible apartment, followed by a flash of Amalia getting slapped. I wondered if she was going to tell Michael about her run-in with his ex.
“I have more viewings booked for today at 4,” she said, with a hopeful smile.
“I could come with you if you’d like,” Michael offered.
Amalia sighed and then shook her head. Her wild curls bounced back and forth across her face. “It’s fine, really,” she said, waving a hand for emphasis. “Olivia’s keeping me company while I look.”
Michael had a slightly defeated look on his face. I glanced over at Angela, who had clearly noticed it too. I reached into my purse and grabbed my pack of Marlboro Lights, offering Alex one in the process.
“Ugh, just quit smoking already,” Amalia said, twisting her lips into a purse. She reached into her bag and started playing with her phone.
“Whatever you say, Amy,” I smiled, making fun of Cassandra’s ridiculous nickname for her.
“Hey, listen,
I have to take off,” Alex said, looking at his watch and ignoring Amalia’s comment. “I have Principles of Biostatistics in 15 minutes.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Angela laughed. I couldn’t tell if she was playing dumb for Michael’s benefit, or if maybe this program wasn’t for her.
“They just added it to the curriculum,” Alex explained. “I’m auditing it.”
“Sounds pretty interesting,” Michael moved closer to Alex. “Mind if I pick your brain?”
“Yeah, why don’t we grab a bite and a drink around 6 at Corner Bistro, and I’ll tell you about it,” Alex said, looking at me. “As long as you don’t mind?”
I smiled and offered him a kiss. His scent pulled me in, and for a moment I forgot we weren’t alone.
“Not at all,” I murmured. “Plus Amalia and I will probably still be apartment-hunting by then.”
“We better not be,” she chimed in, without looking up from her phone.
“I should be going too,” Angela crossed over to me and gave me a tight squeeze. “I really missed you this summer, we must hang out more this year.”
“I missed you too,” I said, hugging her back. “And we will.”
“We should all get together more often,” she said, now looking directly at Michael.
Michael let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. His face turned a little red, and he breathed out a short gasp. Composing himself, he nodded at Angela.
“We will,” he smiled politely.
“Well, I’m off. It was nice meeting you, Amalia,” Angela said softly.
“Yeah, you too.” Amalia grimaced and gave a small wave.
Angela turned and walked off into Washington Square Park alone. I threw my finished cigarette on the ground and Alex did the same. He stepped on both of them, making sure they were extinguished. We kissed one more time and I wished him good luck at his next class. He and Michael shook hands and re-confirmed their plans to meet up later that day. The two of them said goodbye to us and walked in separate directions.
A few seconds later, it was just me and Amalia again. I wondered how she was feeling after that class. I couldn’t help but feel more than a little awkward. I wanted to ask about it, but I also didn’t want to push.
“Want to grab lunch somewhere in Union Square?” I asked, leading the way.
“Sure, I could grab a bite,” she linked her arm around mine. “I just hope no one slaps me on the way this time.”
“That’s a good point. We better not take any back alleys,” I said with faux seriousness. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh yeah, all five foot four of you.”
“Whatever, I took kickboxing over the summer while you were off gallivanting in South America,” I defended.
“Cardio Kick Boxing does not count as martial arts,” she replied. “What are you going to do? Double-time him to death with your tiny fists?”
“I kind of hate you,” I shook my head.
Amalia burst out laughing. Her cheeks turned bright red and a tiny stream of tears ran down her face. I couldn’t help but laugh myself. Just then she jumped and reached into her purse. She pulled out her cell phone. It vibrated loudly, but I couldn’t see the caller name on the screen.
“Who is it?” I asked.
Amalia scrunched up her face and then wiped away the tears of laughter that were in her eyes. She looked at the phone again, this time studying it, as if she couldn’t figure out how to work the damn thing.
“Earth to Amalia!” I said. “Who’s calling you?”
She squinted once more and shook her head. Her eyes drifted off the screen and up to me and I noticed a smile pull at the side of her lips.
“Olivia,” she said through a side smile. “It’s Hayden.”
Chapter 9
Amalia
“So, just so we’re clear,” Hayden put down his beer and rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in God knows how long because you moved out of your apartment in the West Village, spent three months in Brazil, and now since you’ve been back your best friend Cassandra made you feel so uncomfortable you had to move out of her place, and now you’re rooming with your friend Olive?
“Olivia,” I corrected him, while motioning the bartender over for another round. “And it’s just a temporary living situation. “In fact, I went apartment-hunting this afternoon.”
“Seriously?” he said with wide eyes. “You don’t waste any time.”
“I have to get back to feeling normal,” I defended. “I need my own space. My life is a mess right now and I can’t have any more eccentric roommates to add to the mix.”
“I agree completely,” he said with a bright grin, while he ran a hand through his light-brown hair. “What were their names again? Liz and someone?” He flashed his eyes at me, unintentionally reminding me how handsome he was.
“Liz and Christina,” I said, fixed on his dynamic smile.
I smiled back, and asked the bartender for another 7 and 7. After class, I answered Hayden’s phone call right away. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew that talking to him would make me feel better. He seemed so uncomplicated. So light. It was refreshing compared to most of the people I surrounded myself with. Even though I had only endured one class that morning, school was proving itself once again to be the bane of my existence. Running into Michael was hard, but necessary. I couldn’t avoid him forever, especially since we were in the same program. I couldn’t deny that seeing him brought back a lot of mixed feelings. Being in Brazil really helped keep my mind off of him, but now I would have to see him nearly every day.
I couldn’t help but let my mind wander a bit about Angela either. Olivia said she had known her since last year, but I had no recollection of ever meeting or hearing about her. Still, I couldn’t deny that she was a good-looking girl. I just wasn’t sure if that was my problem anymore.
“So how are you paying for this new apartment?” Hayden asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“My parents are giving me money,” I spat out. “Please don’t tell anyone, it’s embarrassing.”
“I won’t,” he offered me a smile. “It’s ultimately none of my business.”
I shook my head. “It’s only for a few months. They said they would pay for the first semester, but after that I have to pay it myself,” I uttered. “I am applying for this work-study program at school. If I get accepted, it will give me just enough money to pay for rent.”
“When does it start?” he asked.
“Not until next semester,” I said. “February.”
“Sounds like perfect timing,” he smiled.
I smiled back. “I really hope I get accepted.”
“On a happier note, thanks for agreeing to meet up with me,” Hayden crossed his arms. “I honestly thought I might never see you again.”
Having just come from work, Hayden was wearing black trousers and a fitted light-gray, button-down shirt. No tie, but he was still more dressed up for work than any guy I had seen in the past few years. His hair was a little disheveled from when he had done it this morning, and his sleeves were rolled up twice. An international sign of a tough day at the office, but still kind of sexy.
“Oh, come on,” I laughed, suddenly feeling flushed. “You thought you would never see me again?”
“I’m serious!” he took another sip of his beer. “I thought you went off the grid.”
“Whatever that means,” I challenged.
Hayden looked at me and smiled. He tore a tiny piece of paper off his beer bottle and took another sip. It felt good to have a guy in my life that I could just be friends with. We met last year in a bar after Cassandra and her boyfriend at the time, Bryce, tried to set us up. I was too heartbroken over Nicholas and too engrossed with Michael to even think about dating someone new. Hayden forged his way into the friend-zone, and I was glad he had.
“Alright, fine, I’m being dramatic,” he said with an eye rol
l. “Tell me about the apartment- hunt.”
I coughed up a little of my drink and then burst out laughing. I immediately thought back to the walk-up from hell. Complete with illegal sublets and illegal activity.
“Trust me, there’s nothing great out there.”
“So that’s it?” he sounded surprised. “You’re couch-bound for the next two years?”
“Well, I didn’t say that,” I responded, catching my breath. “I saw a few more places this afternoon and while the first two were directly extracted from hell, the last place I saw was passable.”
“Passable?” he raised an eyebrow.
I let out a sigh and took another sip of my drink.
“Yes, passable,” I waved my hand around for emphasis. “For one, it doesn’t smell like weed. There are no creepy landlords, from what I’ve seen, and I can afford it. Tomorrow I am going back to fill out tons of paperwork, but as long as that all goes well, I will officially have a new apartment on September 1st.”
“That’s really soon!”
“Like you said,” I paused to sip my drink. “I don’t waste any time.”
Even though I tried to come off confident, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my new apartment. Firstly, I had to borrow the security deposit from my parents. I hadn’t told Olivia or Cassandra that, and I didn’t intend to either. Secondly, it was walk-up in a neighborhood called Murray Hill. I was moving from the West Side over to the East, but at least the area seemed safe enough. The major selling point was that it was a one-bedroom, not a studio. I’d gladly walk up those four flights of stairs every day if it meant I got to sleep in a separate room than I eat in.
“So where is this fantastic new apartment?” Hayden asked. “And when can I come visit?”
“It’s right on 3rd Avenue, between 34th and 35th Street,” I answering coyly.
Hayden just shot me a look.
“What? Do you want the longitude and latitude coordinates?”
“I think Brazil made you mean, Amalia,” Hayden shook his head.
“No. I think New York is making me mean,” I paused for a moment and took a sip of my drink. I looked back up at Hayden, who was fiddling with a button on his cuff. “Okay fine! I will text you the address,” I laughed. “But only after the lease is officially signed. I don’t want to jinx myself and end up living in Weehawken.”