It was good to be busy or to be drunk. It was good to have no time to think.
CHAPTER 9
NOVEMBER 2018
Ryley broke into a light trot as she exited Wasserstein Hall and made her way across the speckled gravel toward the gym. She was cutting it close timing-wise, but she was sure David would prefer a slightly late, endorphin-buzzed, first-date Ryley to a distracted, slightly depressed one. Mark hadn’t even stayed back to talk to her, booking it out of there instead. She’d wait for him to reach out to her.
It was just beginning to get noticeably cold in Cambridge and she deeply regretted wearing the California cold-weather coat that was slimming but entirely useless. As yet another gust of wind managed to sneak its way under her turtleneck, she was quite sure her body had entered into some state of shock. Desperate to get indoors, she road-runnered her way past the library, only briefly skimming the Latin scrawled across the front. She didn’t understand any of it, but then again, she’d always been of a more practical bent. Practical notwithstanding the fact she had no real life skills and had chosen to take French, a language spoken by, at most, one percent of Americans. Harrison used to joke that she’d be the first person to die if a group of them were stranded on a deserted island (Harrison and Ryley had been huge Lost fans back in the day).
She rounded the corner of the library, narrowly avoided hitting a tourist with his camera out, and gratefully took the last few steps to get into the blessed warmth. She looked back to see what he was capturing as she pulled open the door to the gym. Perhaps he had found an angle of the law school she’d want to replicate later for her Instagram. It was a simple shot of the library, with the lawn before it, made significant only because of the lighting. Because the sun was beginning to set at the offensive time of 4:30 p.m. Ryley needed to get out, go someplace where everyone didn’t suffer from severe sun deprivation. Maybe she and David could go on a couples vacation to a nice beach house. She’d never done that with a boyfriend and would love to check it off the bucket list.
Striding into the rather ordinary red-brick gym (the law school had clearly designed buildings in line with how they thought students should organize their priorities), she was startled to find it surprisingly packed. She let herself heave a small, pathetic sigh and made her rapid way up to the locker room; hopefully she could snag the one open treadmill. After a quick deck change, she put on a Mood Pop playlist and then, feeling it, embarked upon a dramatic, fast walk out the locker room. Unfortunately, her walk was cut prematurely short when she immediately collided with another girl upon exiting the room.
“Oh, sorry,” she said or perhaps shouted. She had zero volume control when her headphones were in. Taking a step back to check for casualties, she realized the girl clutching at her elbow was Olivia. She apologized again, though the way she was semi-laughing the second time around probably took away from the perceived genuineness of it. She hadn’t bumped Olivia all that hard, and Olivia was just standing there in an over-the-top lime green sports bra with an over-the-top eyebrows-scrunched, eyes-squinted-in-pain look on her face.
Ryley gave another muted laugh-snort before she finally gathered herself and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Though I don’t see what’s so funny. You could’ve knocked me backward down the stairs and then I’d have been dead.” Olivia leaned back against the wall as she spoke, unnecessarily flexing her abs. It was barely a two-pack—more of a zero-pack.
“Okay. But you’re not dead, so this is all a moot point.” Ryley considered walking away, but Olivia was still lounging against the wall, so she continued, “Anyway, what’s up? How’s life?”
Olivia gave a generic, “Good,” but didn’t rush off, simply letting the word hang there in the space between them. They weren’t the talking type of friends though they did happen to see each other almost every day, if only ever in passing. They both usually just gave each other brief smiles whenever they made eye contact, though sometimes, Olivia seemed to forget how to smile, and Ryley would have to hold a prolonged smile to show her how it was done. So, sometimes, Ryley pretended not to see her.
As the silence dragged, Ryley took a step back and lifted her headphones to shove them back into her ears, prompting Olivia to noisily exhale through her thin, patrician nose and ask, “Everything good? Killing One-L? Harrison always talks about how smart you are.”
“Yeah, it’s going great! Super great. The people are nice, the classes are going well.” Ryley wasn’t lying. She would pull through; she knew she would. Professor Kilmer and Professor Suh—her Legal Research & Writing professor, who had given her the lowest possible grade on her memo—just hadn’t seen her brilliance yet. Ryley was surprised Harrison was talking about her, though. She barely mentioned him to her friends.
As if cued by her thoughts, Harrison appeared at the bottom of the gray concrete stairwell. He shouted, “Olivia, I didn’t know you were friends with Rye Bread!”
“Oh, yeah, she’s a doll,” Olivia said, keeping her gaze trained on Harrison. Harrison shot Ryley a bemused look.
Ryley shrugged though she considered telling Olivia that she couldn’t pull off saying “doll.” That was the second time she had used the word. Instead, Ryley said, “Hey Harrison. It’s been a while.” Harrison had shorn his hair. He looked surprisingly good in a buzz-cut, his strong, prominent forehead and jaw contrasting nicely against his short hair, though his nose did stick out a bit. She’d like to say that she at least had grown into her nose.
“Yeah, it has! These past few months have flown by. You look like you’re living it up.”
His enthusiasm made her feel slightly foolish. She dialed up her engagement level. “Just trying to make the most of things!”
“Do you spend any time studying?” He followed up with what she supposed could be a joking tone. Maybe she needed to scale back on her social media posting.
“Yes, of course, I do,” she said, frowning down at him. She could do without a lecture now. Seeing how easily he fell into the role of big brother, she realized he must have missed being condescending to someone. “Anyway, how’re you doing? Happy to be a Two-L?”
“I’m fine. It’s all right.” Ryley couldn’t blame him for his concision. It was hard to catch up on two months of life in a gym stairwell with Olivia carefully evaluating them, ping-ponging her eyes between the two of them. Ryley looked at Olivia to see if she’d add anything to Harrison’s words.
Surprisingly, Olivia did choose to chime in, saying, “I think I miss all the friends I made my first year. Some of the people here are particular. And kind of judgey. I still don’t feel like I belong.”
“I can see that,” Ryley said, hoping the soft tenor of her voice was conveying the right amount of sympathy without dipping into pity. Because she was a good person, she chose not to draw attention to how Olivia seemed to make an effort to stick out with her dress sense and general don’t-mess-with-me attitude.
Despite Ryley’s angelic intentions, Olivia looked at her with her thin lips pressed together as she grumbled, “And how exactly can you see that?”
Harrison, who had moved up to be near them so he was no longer shouting, jumped in before Ryley had to respond, saying, “Oh, I’ve talked about this with Ryley some, so she gets where we’re coming from.” Ryley didn’t want his protection, and she opened her mouth to say something to that effect, but he loudly continued, “Anyway, Olivia, as you know, I totally agree. It’s like everyone’s already formed all their cliques and stuff. I feel like some of them think they’re smarter just because they got in from the beginning.”
He paused to take a breath before pushing on in a more mellow tone. “It’s definitely an adjustment, I don’t know. I mean, I get that it’s worth it to come here for the name, but I miss my friends at Cornell. And of course, it sucks that I’m even farther from Genie. Hopefully it’ll end up being worth it.”
Genie, Harrison’s picture-perfect girlfriend, had stayed in New York. Although their conversation in Sep
tember had been too short for Harrison to adequately extoll her virtues, Ryley had heard him go on about Genie forever at the dinner table last Christmas. Ryley wondered if she could get away without asking about her.
Fortunately, she remembered she was in a rush and so opened her mouth to excuse herself, but Olivia jumped in before Ryley could say anything. “All things considered, we’re doing a pretty good job of it, Hari.” There was a distinct possessiveness and familiarity with which Olivia said the nickname.
“How’s Genie?” The words tumbled out of Ryley’s mouth, quite against her will.
Olivia made a point of snorting loudly, staring at Ryley with a mix of amusement and irritation. Ryley blushed and looked away from her quickly. Harrison just looked between the two of them, confused.
“She’s good. The long-distance is obviously hard, but she’s coming for the Harvard-Yale game, so hopefully you both can meet her then.”
Olivia said, “You know how excited I am to meet your girlfriend, right, Harrison?”
“Yeah, of course. I feel like I’m going to become the third wheel.” Ryley could feel Olivia’s eyes drilling a hole into the side of her face; she kept her gaze on Harrison.
Turning to exclusively face Ryley, Harrison asked, “How did you do on your closed memo? I heard you all got it back.”
“Fine,” Ryley said shortly. She hoped their mom hadn’t told him about her grade. She’d kill her if she had.
“Okay, well, let me know if you need any help.” He paused after he said this.
Ryley responded with a rather ungracious, “Sure. Thanks, will do.” They both knew she wouldn’t be coming over to him for help anytime soon.
Likely hit by the same unfortunate memories, he rather abruptly said, “I’ll let you go. I know you One-Ls are busy. We should definitely meet up soon though.” He was making a farce of their relationship, saying such generic things.
“Yeah. Anyway, I should go. I’m running late for a date already.” She felt no shame in skating over his dismissal of her not moments before. She would be the one to formally end the conversation.
She waved bye to him and nodded to Olivia before squeezing past them to get to the door leading to the gym floor. As she opened it, Olivia called out, “With David?”
Ryley just gave her a half-smile in response and continued on her way out, blasting Mood Pop on high.
* * *
Ryley beat David to Alden & Harlow; he had texted her while she was at the gym saying he needed thirty more minutes to complete the readings, which had suited her just fine, especially because the stairwell conversation had delayed her. She wanted time without David to settle into the ambiance of the restaurant. Alden & Harlow was of the sort that refused to seat anyone until everyone had arrived, so she stood by the hostess, observing. It was casual in a purposefully intentional way that demanded guests recognize its charm. The tastefully tatted, stylish waiters smoothly scurrying around further added to a brand that screamed unassuming in a deliberate, expensive way. Mark, who kept track of every new hip restaurant and bar, had recommended the place. All the people in the restaurant were classically upscale Cambridge—nice sweaters or button-down shirts the norm, the occasional dress an anomaly.
Ryley was wearing a tight, navy blue mock neck which she’d tucked into ripped jeans. Although she usually skewed more conservative in her clothing, sometimes she couldn’t resist purchasing a piece or two to mix things up. The clothing was cut well enough that she felt at ease, though she’d have matched better to Olivia than to David, who was stepping up now in a plain, black button-down shirt. He leaned in automatically for a hug and she let it happen.
“Have you checked in yet?” he asked, keeping a hand on her arm.
“Yep. I’ll go and let them know you’re here as well.” She refrained from tucking her arm behind her back. She’d gotten comfortable enough with Mark and Cassidy that she didn’t mind when they touched her now, but David touched her so frequently that sometimes she wanted to take a step back, feeling like they were moving too fast—notwithstanding the last two months they’d spent getting to know each other.
“I don’t mind checking in for us,” he replied.
She hesitated, waffled some more, and then ended up saying, “I’ve got it.”
He responded with a raised eyebrow and an uncertain, “Um, okay.”
When he offered to order for the two of them, she let him. After he’d placed the order, he said, “Interesting class today. Mark was really fired up.”
“Yeah.” She fiddled with her beer bottle as she thought about how to quickly move on.
“I liked what you said. I think you were being realistic! People get caught up in their own righteousness.”
She decided she wouldn’t mind staying on the topic a bit longer after all and expanded willingly. “I mean, I obviously see his point. I was just saying that in the real world, it’s not as black and white. And it’s not fair that everyone chimed in and supported him. It’s easy to be a maverick when people automatically give you the benefit of the doubt and you have nothing to lose. It’s harder when you have to prove you belong in the first place.”
“Yeah, Ryley, of course. But it’s not like you’re exactly on the outside here either, right? You’re an inside-the-lines person if I’ve seen one. Come on, people accept you.” He punctuated his statement with a chuckle.
“They accept me because I am inside the lines. Now I’m being called out for that, for playing it safe. There’s no winning.”
“Ryley, not to be mean, but you’re playing the world’s smallest violin,” he said, half-chuckling again. “Don’t let Mark’s one comment get to you. I like how normal you are. You make people feel comfortable. You make me feel comfortable. You’re not one of those annoying people who gets offended about every little thing so people always have to be watching their words around you.” He leaned forward across the table to rest his hand on hers.
“Yeah,” Ryley said quietly. She shouldn’t let Mark get to her. She would continue ignoring Mark until he apologized though.
David continued, “I think we all have to perform somewhat to fit in. I don’t think it’s such a bad burden to bear. It’s what makes you successful.” There was a soft, barely-there edge to his words as he gently chided her for trying to disown exactly what her key value-add was. He was right.
“Yeah, you’re right. I just got stuck in my head,” she conceded, though she slid her hand out from underneath his. “Anyway, I didn’t get a chance to ask you about your weekend earlier. What’d you get up to?”
They ended up talking about nothing and everything for the rest of the evening and skipped from light topic to light topic, laughing eagerly whenever the opportunity arose. Both wanted the first date to be a success, so with the aid of numerous drinks, the two happily stayed until closing time. They dawdled outside the restaurant for just a bit longer after that, not quite ready to call the evening to a close. Eventually, though, after two disjointed strings of conversation too many, they parted ways. He gave her a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek, drawing out the embrace; she liked it, felt he’d earned it, that they’d both done good work that night. Polite as ever, he offered to walk her home, but she declined. He lived right near the restaurant and she wanted to use the walk to sober up and reflect on the date.
As she made her way up the cobblestone path, she couldn’t help the smile that came naturally to her face. Despite the small disagreement in the beginning, he seemed to have her best interests at heart. She had a good feeling about the relationship; it felt like it had actual staying power this time. He was undoubtedly going places given his drive, his scholarly mind, and his calm demeanor. He’d also paid for the meal even after she’d made a couple of good-faith protests. He wanted to treat her like a lady.
She put her headphones on, wanting to boost her mood further and memorialize the moment with a song. What if she’d found her life partner through a swoop of good luck after striking out for so long? She l
oved, more than anything else, the absurd normalcy of meeting her potential husband in graduate school.
Her mom called as she was scrolling through her playlists and she eagerly took the chance to recap every aspect of the date in excruciating detail. She decided to leave the class incident and the talk with Professor Kilmer for another time. She’d already shared her closed memo grade and her mom had brushed it off like she had, saying it was a fluke. There was no need to cause unnecessary panic.
As she finally entered her apartment and ended the call with her mom, her phone lit up. Fully expecting to see David’s name attached to a text thanking her for a wonderful night, she was startled to see that it was Harrison saying, Hope your date went well. It was good seeing you. She’d ignore the message for now but respond in a day or two. It was potentially time to bury the hatchet and move on.
CHAPTER 10
NOVEMBER 2008
Ryley kept her headphones jammed firmly in her ears. She was listening to The Pussycat Dolls’ “When I Grow Up” to try to get in the mood. She heard her mom speaking, pretended she couldn’t, felt her mom’s glare, and then pulled out her headphones.
“What?” Ryley asked, her tone slightly petulant.
“How’re you feeling?”
“All right.” Ryley sighed. “I don’t know if this is quite my scene.” Ryley’s mom was dropping her off at Carly’s house. The night of Carly’s “legendary” Homecoming pregame had finally arrived.
Her mom responded, “Just take a breath, and be your nice, normal self. If someone gives you a cup, sip at it so you don’t stand out, but don’t have more than one or two sips.”
“Okay,” Ryley mumbled, fidgeting with her phone. People weren’t as moronic as her mom seemed to think. Her Miss Congeniality makeover had yet to convince everyone she was cool.
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