Blending Out

by Priyanka Bagrodia

  As she opened the door to her apartment building, Mark bellowed, “Rye-Rye,” his whole face lighting up. He was lounging against the old building’s scuffed, red brick wall, with one hand shoved into the pocket of his light-washed cuffed jeans. He belonged more on the cover of a GQ magazine than at law school.

  She shot him a huge grin and delivered an exuberant, “Hi!” She almost called him Markie in turn but that felt too precious and cute. She gave Mark’s outstretched hand a quick, obligatory squeeze before turning to begin walking down the street. Ryley went out of her way to purposefully crunch through the red-gold leaves huddled in piles on the sides of the road. She loved fall in Cambridge and the way the humidity sat heavily on her skin, like a constant warm (though admittedly damp) embrace, so different from the dry heat of LA.

  As he fell into step beside her, he asked, “Where does Cassidy live?”

  “Just a ten-minute walk from here! Cassidy’s apartment is right next to Ali’s; they live in neighboring buildings. Her apartment is super nice.” Ryley was perhaps implying a greater level of familiarity with Cassidy than was warranted; she’d never been over after all, but Cassidy had shown her enough pictures that she’d gotten the gist.

  Two minutes of companionable silence later, Mark began to share some of the impressions he had of people in their Section: those who felt comfortable talking at length, those who looked terrified, and so on. Ryley nodded her general agreement, wanting to build their sense of connectedness and not really having strong opinions otherwise. She almost asked him what his opinion of her was but thought it better to not know. Mark seemed to be too willing to be candid and she’d rather keep thinking of herself as a not-yet-recognized star pupil.

  All too soon, they arrived at Cassidy’s building and were immediately buzzed in. As she traversed the first floor of the modern, newly renovated apartment building, Ryley heard quick, confident steps making their way over what must be hardwood floor before the door at the end of the hallway was yanked open.

  “Hey—oh, hi, Mark—you’re the first ones here!” Cassidy directed most of the sentence exclusively to Ryley though she flicked her eyes over to Mark in quick acknowledgment.

  Ryley just smiled in response even as Mark exclaimed, “Great, we’ll get some quality one-on-one Cass time then!” He stepped forward and gave Cassidy a side-hug as he squeezed past her to cross the threshold. Ryley followed, the wattage of her smile increasing, as she saw how much Cassidy’s apartment suited her.

  They had entered a spacious living room, decorated as if a showroom on a yuppie furniture website. There was a fake, mini palm frond plant in the far right corner of the room and two white frames with the words HOME and LOVE hung on the wall immediately to her right. A regal gray couch, replete with throw pillows saying the present is female and know your worth lay directly in front of her situated across from what must have been a forty-four-inch plasma screen TV. A sleek glass table set within a silver steel frame, sitting at the center of the room, completed the look.

  “So, this is my place! Cara, my roommate, is out. She’s in Section Two.” Cassidy pointed at the closed door to their left. She then gestured proudly to another room and said, “My room is through that door to the right.” Ryley could see a white wooden bookcase, built in the form of a ladder. The books were stacked such that she could just make out the title of each book serving as a bookend on each of the five shelves. One L, Just Mercy, Mrs. Dalloway, Pride and Prejudice, and The Big Short. She doubted the book display was unintentional; she did see the opportunity for an easy icebreaker though.

  “Oh, Mrs. Dalloway is my favorite book,” Ryley said.

  “It’s a good one! Also one of my favorites.” Cassidy continued to keep her gaze focused only on Ryley as she spoke.

  Mark seemed as unaffected as ever, piping up to say, “I am honored to be in the company of such well-read folk.” He threw in a wink at the end, directed at Cassidy, and although Ryley was a bit miffed that Mark had so easily shifted his focus to Cassidy, his body facing hers, his eyes only tracking hers, she supposed it was a good thing. She wanted them to get along.

  Cassidy gave him a tight, indulgent smile before turning once more to Ryley. “Ryley, you did management consulting in DC before this, right?” Ryley was not surprised Cassidy remembered; Ryley had seen her observing everyone. She could envision Cassidy coming home every day and typing in information she’d learned about people into an excel spreadsheet.

  “Yeah, pretty standard path, I guess. Seems like a lot of us did two or three years at a consulting firm or did the paralegal stint for a bit. Mark, what about you?” Ryley turned her body to bring him in.

  “Oh, I worked in investment banking in New York.” And then, speaking too deliberately to be believably offhand, he added, “Goldman Sachs. So, law school is quite the shift.” He kept his gaze fixed on Cassidy.

  Cassidy said nothing in response, but she looked at Mark as much as at Ryley when she suddenly startled, saying, “Oh! Do you two want something to drink?” Ryley wasn’t sure if it was the prestige element that had mattered to Cassidy or if she had just wanted Mark to feel like he had to be vetted first, that he had to perform for her.

  Mark exclaimed, “Yes, please!”

  Ryley nodded too though she was already beginning to feel a touch spacey and unfocused, the shots of gin beginning to hit her system. As Mark moved to help Cassidy with the drinks, Ryley settled into a slightly offset chair in the corner of the kitchen, pulling out her phone by habit. Ryley silently watched as Mark picked out what must have been top-shelf gin, giving Cassidy a beseeching grin. Ryley would never have dared.

  Surprisingly, Cassidy only gave a small sigh, and then said, “Fine, but only with you two. Don’t let others know I gave you this.”

  Ryley felt warm, perhaps just because of the gin but also liking the feeling of exclusivity Cassidy’s words engendered, especially because she’d seen Cassidy’s capacity to be cold. As Cassidy poured their drinks, Mark listed all the men he thought cute in their section, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. Ryley found herself, for the most part, silently nodding along; she could see that Zeke was objectively cute, that David, the only-barely-taller-than-her brunette with the sweet smile, was a looker. Cassidy was much more vocal, unapologetically and adamantly labeling some of the men 100 percent no-gos.

  When Ryley got up to get her drink, Ryley realized, for the first time, that Cassidy was a full head shorter. The top of Cassidy’s up-do only barely sat at the same level as Ryley’s nose. Ryley snorted to herself. Cassidy paused her dissertation on the pros and cons of men in the Section to look at Ryley and, sounding slightly put-upon, asked, “Why are you being so quiet? You must have your eye on someone.”

  Ryley had the most vivid visual of Cassidy as a chihuahua with a little crown on its blond-wigged head. She pretended the laugh that inescapably bubbled out was a result of her excitement about guys. “Yeah, David is cute! Zeke is all right too.” Ryley was feeling light and unstoppable; she’d hit her sweet spot, and if she slowly sipped Cassidy’s drink over the hour, hopefully, she could stay at exactly this level. She added, as an afterthought, “Sophie’s also pretty.”

  Cassidy laughed, slightly uncertainly. “Um, okay, yeah, she is.” Mark was smirking at her.

  Ryley paused, replayed her words, and then rolled her eyes very obviously. “Yes, so I can see when a girl’s pretty. Sue me. It’s not like I’d ever do anything about it.”

  “But you want to?” Mark asked, not maliciously—he was gay, for heaven’s sake—but with his head slightly cocked to the side, more curious than anything else.

  Cassidy just looked uncertain, looking at Ryley closely, perhaps wondering if she’d have to reconstruct the role she’d planned out for Ryley.

  “No, I’m twenty-four. If I was going to do something with a girl, I would’ve done it by now. All I was saying is that objectively, Sophie is gorgeous. I’m sure every guy has a crush on her.”

  Cassidy laughed, at ea
se once more knowing she’d read the situation right and they were the same. “Okay, yeah, she’s pretty. I don’t know if I’d call her gorgeous though.” Cassidy then happily changed the topic even as Ryley listened absent-mindedly, focusing on sipping her drink double-time to reclaim the lightness that had been spooked out of her when Cassidy and Mark had looked at her like that—as if they weren’t sure she was who they’d slotted her to be.

  She was annoyed, especially when she’d never so much as kissed a girl, but the doorbell ringing broke her out of her slight funk, and soon Zeke, Sophie, and some others she recognized from class were entering. She gave Sophie a wave but didn’t get up to talk to her. Not that Ryley necessarily would have gone over to her even if the previous conversation hadn’t occurred; Sophie was incredibly nice but had been incessantly on-edge since law school started. At least Ryley kept her problems hidden inside, like normal people did.

  After everyone had settled into a loose circle in the living room, Sophie clapped her hands loudly. “All right, guys, I just found out some news. David here got into Yale! But he decided to stay with us plebeians.” Sophie beamed at David, who blushed, looking down at the floor, no matter that he was the most likely source of such news.

  A couple of people gave half-hearted good for yous, but no one prodded David for more information, uninterested in his decision-making process, and fidgeting nervously as they tried to figure out if it was polite to move away from this topic.

  Finally, Cassidy said, “I think you made the right choice not going to Yale. I mean, I got into Stanford but realized I’d be miserable and feel claustrophobic, so I came here.” Ryley fully expected someone to let out a groan or poke fun at Cassidy for the very obvious plug, but then again, it was Cassidy.

  So, instead, another woman piped up, “Oh, yeah, I got a full ride to Columbia—I don’t know why, fooled them somehow—but it’s hard to turn down a name like this.”

  Ryley hadn’t spoken to the girl yet and couldn’t remember her name from class. She was Persian, the only other minority in the room, but hadn’t made any effort to come over to Ryley. Not that Ryley had done any better.

  A couple more of her classmates threw out the names of the schools they’d gotten into, speaking hesitantly, as if the words were being pulled out of them, as if they had no choice but to prove they belonged at Harvard. Ryley stayed silent; she needed to get a better read of her cohort first and see if this peacocking was just first-week nerves or the norm before she said anything.

  “Well, regardless, we’re heap-toppers now!” Sophie chimed in.

  “What’s a heap-topper?” Mark asked.

  The others looked at him horrified; even Ryley raised her eyebrows.

  Sophie asked, aghast, “Did you not watch the pre-orientation video?”

  “No.” Mark kept his head high. He was well-positioned so that his sharp jaw was highlighted by the soft glow of Cassidy’s lamp. Lowering his head in shame would have ruined the effect.

  After a slight pause long enough to make anyone other than Mark uncomfortable, Sophie replied, “One of the professors referred to us as that in the video. We’re at the top. We’ve made it.” Sophie earnestly delivered the last line, as if a messiah showing Mark that Harvard was indeed the promised land by the power of willing it alone.

  Eventually, they moved on to a new topic, and the tension hanging taut over the room finally abated; people relievedly broke into smiles. Ryley settled back into her chair, using her phone as the effective shield it was as she tapped out a text to a college friend that could easily be sent tomorrow. No sooner had she sent off the text consisting of nothing other than a generic recap of her week than Cassidy came over, asking, “Everything good?”

  “Yeah, just catching up with a friend.” Ryley looked up at Cassidy, waiting to see what she wanted, curious to know why she’d come over to Ryley when she had her full crew on hand.

  “You know, I was super nervous to come here and have people not take me seriously. Having not gone to a feeder school or anything.”

  Ryley considered asking which school, realized it would show she was as pedigree obsessed as anyone else, and instead murmured, “Oh. Well, you definitely seem on top of it to me.”

  Cassidy stayed near her, as if hoping for something more, possibly wanting Ryley to absolve her, but Ryley would be of no help. She really was just taking her cue from others.

  CHAPTER 6

  SEPTEMBER 2018

  Zeke pushed Ali’s apartment door open without even trying to knock, falling into the door more than anything else. There was no way a knock would be heard over the noise spilling onto the stained, water-marked hallway. A whoop of welcome sounded out as they filed in; Ryley had had no deeper exchange than a hello with most of the people at the party, but she appreciated the sense of celebrity she experienced. She was also at peak drunkenness; they’d stayed at Cassidy’s later than expected, and the drink Cassidy had made for her was hitting her in all the right places.

  Carrying her six-pack very obviously—she was not a free-rider, she was an upstanding member of society—she made a beeline for the drinks table. The urgency with which she made her way across the room was slightly ridiculous, especially because all she did when she reached the table was to place the Stellas on it and proceed to stand there, mulling over whether she even wanted another drink. Ryley looked back at the rest of her group and saw most of them still stuck in the hallway near the door. The apartment was rather bland like her own. There was no art decoration anywhere and the living room and kitchen—the two rooms in which they were all gathered—only had the most essential pieces of furniture. She appreciated the apartment owner’s taste. If she ever exchanged more than a hello with Ali, she’d tell her.

  Ryley focused once again on the drinks table, picked up a Stella, and proceeded to peel the paper from the top of the bottle with undue care, revving herself up to talk to the nearest semi-stranger. David, Yale David, walked up before she had to leave the safety of the table. He offered her a brief, absentminded smile before turning to reach for a beer from one of the other assorted six packs. David hadn’t made an effort to get to know her at Cassidy’s earlier that night, but then again, she had just been clumped to Cassidy and Mark.

  “Hey, I’m Ryley. We didn’t get a chance to speak at Cassidy’s.” Ryley broke the temporary silence that blanketed them now.

  David was just about the same height as her five-nine—her height was a consistently alternating source of pride and anguish—his eyes a beautiful hazel green set underneath thick black eyebrows and a shock of black hair that contrasted nicely against his tan skin. His full mouth settled permanently in a half-smile, and his nose, on the larger side, lent him a friendly, more approachable vibe. David’s generally easygoing air and subtle attractiveness made him a good, natural draft pick for Cassidy’s crew.

  “Hi, I’m David.” He gave her another slight smile even as his eyes flicked over to Sophie. Sophie and David probably already had a thing going on; half the single people had brought someone home the first weekend after Orientation. She waited to see if he would step away, and although he shifted his weight, he paused, ultimately deciding to give her a chance.

  “Yeah, I think we were in the same breakout group a couple of times during Orientation?” Ryley asked, tapping her fingers against the bottle and keeping her tone light-hearted and unaffected, even as he continued to look between her and Sophie. One more look at Sophie and she’d run back to Cassidy and Mark. Quickly skimming for the two, she located them still standing by the front door.

  “Oh, yeah, yes, you’re right. We were in the same breakout group,” he replied. He was truly doing the least. That being said, Mark was grinning at her from behind his shoulder. She’d press on for now.

  “Right. So, good first week?”

  “Yeah, you know, it was good. I mean law school is obviously hard, and I don’t think I’ve ever done this much reading in my life, but I like it. It feels right.” He took a swig of bee
r after he finished speaking. He was holding the bottle precariously between his thumb and index finger, and she had half a mind to tell him to hold it properly before he dropped it and splattered her.

  Fortunately, the half of her mind that wasn’t an uptight grandmother prevailed and she forged ahead. “That’s great! You know, I can tell that you like it. You never look stressed when I see you.”

  He leaned in slightly now, canting his body toward hers. “Yeah, I really like all our classes even if the sheer amount of work blows. I think it’s just about getting that balance right—making sure to do the things that need to get done while carving out time for myself to do things like this.” He finished with an offhanded shrug. He took another swig of the precariously held beer. She thought about inching her feet slightly away, but the mindfulness podcast her dad had forced on her a month ago, which was making all the waves in the corporate circles, had emphasized the importance of staying present; she needed to focus on the cute, smart boy in front of her and enjoy the conversation for what it was.

  “You know, I agree. Even if it’s challenging, law school feels right. I feel like I’m always behind though. How do you keep up?”