“I’m the lucky one.”
“We’re both lucky.” Austin looks around some more. He notices the sign over my bed. “‘Right around the corner.’ What does that mean?”
“Do you know that soul mates are real?”
Austin laughs. “I love how you framed the question. People would usually ask something like, ‘Do you believe in soul mates?’”
“But soul mates are real. It’s not a matter of belief.”
“Like global warming?”
“Exactly. Asking someone if they believe in global warming is like asking if they’re smart. Only idiots refuse to believe reality.”
“So if I don’t believe in soul mates . . . sorry, if I don’t know they’re real, then I’m an idiot?”
“No. You would just be uninformed, which is a completely different thing. Then I would school you and you’d know.”
“I guess I’ve always hoped soul mates were real. I’d never experienced that kind of attraction before. But now . . .” Austin’s blue eyes sparkle with silver in the evening light slanting through my window. “Now I understand. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Sadie.”
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone, either.”
Austin looks like he wants to say more. Instead he turns toward the sign again. “So . . . right around the corner?”
“It means that my soul mate could be anywhere. We each have more than one soul mate. This city is all about the energy bringing people together in mysterious ways. There are so many chances to meet a soul mate doing routine things. Going to work or to school, running errands, in coffeehouses, at the gym, at group meetings. Or even just walking around. I would take walks along the river and imagine meeting my soul mate there. He’d pass me and take one look at me and just know we were meant to be together. Or I’d be reading on the grass and he’d come over to talk to me because he loved that there was a girl reading in the park. Something he couldn’t explain would pull him in my direction. He would be compelled to talk to me, like he didn’t have a choice, even though he didn’t know me. That’s what the sign is about. He could literally be right around the corner.”
“Wow.” Austin stares at the sign, contemplating the enormity of it.
The door buzzes. I totally forgot about the pizza.
“I’m getting this.” Austin takes his wallet out of his back pocket and answers the door.
After we eat, we go back to my room. Austin says he wants to see pictures from when I was little.
“You do?” I say. No one has ever wanted to see those pictures before.
“I bet you were adorable.”
“Not really.”
“Of course you were. Look how adorable you are now. That had to come from somewhere, right?”
“But why do you want to see them?”
Austin sits on my bed. I try not to freak out that he is sitting on my bed.
“You fascinate me,” he says. “I want to learn as much about you as I can this weekend.”
I open my closet door, thankful that the closet hasn’t had a chance to get messy yet. I dig around until I find the box with my photo albums. My mom started making these for me when I was a baby. Every year she gave me one on my birthday, filled with photos that documented the events of the past year. I was going to leave them at home, but something told me to bring them. Now I’m happy they’re here. I take the photo albums from when I was two to eight over to the bed.
“Dude,” Austin says. “You have actual photo albums.”
“That’s how I roll. I’m old-school.”
“I love that about you. No one has real photos anymore.” He slides his hand over one of the textured covers.
We lie back against my pillows to look at the pictures. We get to the ones from Christmas morning when I was four. There’s a light in Austin’s eyes as he looks at them. He flips the pages carefully, as if they might break. I love that he’s treating my albums with respect. Boys are usually oblivious to things that should be handled delicately.
The front door opens and closes. It’s probably Rosanna. Darcy loves staying out late. Usually I would go out and say hi. But not tonight. Tonight I’m busy. Tonight I’m in bed with Austin. A ripple of nervous excitement rockets through me, making me giggle.
“What?” Austin asks.
“Nothing. Just . . . I’m happy you’re here.”
“Not as happy as I am.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you make me happier than anyone ever has.” Austin puts the photo album on the bed. He wraps his arms around me so we’re lying on our sides, facing each other. “I mean it, Sadie. You make me happier than I’ve ever been. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way.”
Soul mates, I think. That’s the way it feels with a soul mate. Like a whole new world is opening up for you. Like everything you’ve imagined can finally become reality. Even things you didn’t know to imagine. Things you wanted deep down that you didn’t realize you wanted until you found them.
There’s so much I want to say to Austin. I want to tell him everything I’m thinking. I want to describe everything I’m feeling until he understands exactly how much he means to me. But I don’t want to scare him off. You can’t overload a boy with too much too soon. Even a boy who seems to feel the same way about you.
Austin kisses me. I kiss him back. Soon I’m on top of him, kissing him harder than ever.
I hear the sounds of Rosanna going to her room and closing the door. After the movie last night she warned me to take it slow. No offense, but her limited boy experience is showing. When you find someone who makes you feel the way you’ve always wanted to feel, there’s no reason to take it slow. Not that I’m ready to have sex with Austin. But there’s no reason for us to take things slow emotionally. Why would you hold back when you know you’ve found something real?
We’re not having sex this weekend, but there are other things we can do.
I kiss Austin even harder. My hand slides down his chest, his stomach, the front of his jeans. I grab his zipper and start pulling it down.
“Hey,” Austin whispers. He puts his hand over mine, stopping me.
“What?”
“You know I adore you, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I also respect you. And if you unzip my jeans, I can’t promise that I’ll control myself.” He strokes my arm tenderly. “I want our first time to mean something.”
Austin gazes into my eyes with an intensity that permeates down to my soul. I’m having one of those epic feelings. Except this one feels bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never felt so connected to another person.
“Sadie,” Austin whispers.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
“I’m falling in love with you, too.”
This is what every girl dreams of. To bask in adoration from the person she loves. What we have really is a dream come true.
I don’t want to settle for less than what my heart desires in my fantasy life. And I definitely don’t want to settle in my real life, either.
THIRTY-TWO
DARCY
YOU KNOW HOW MOST WEEKS Friday cannot come soon enough? That was especially true this week. I could not possibly have more reading to plow through or papers to write or facts to memorize. It’s astonishing I have time to do things like sleep and take showers. Taking a year off has its consequences. Trying to catch up on basic requirements isn’t as basic as I’d presumed.
Maybe these classes would be more interesting if they actually pertained to my future career. Not that I know what my future career is. I don’t even know what I want to major in. A career that lets me flaunt my social butterfly tendencies and solid people skills would be awesome. I’m hoping enlightenment will strike at some point this summer so I can officially start college with at least some idea of where my education is going. Going with the flow is significantly less fun when Daddy pressur
es me to make the big decision. He called me this morning to drill me again about where my life is going. My argument is that college is for discovering yourself and what you want to do with your life. Why should teenagers be forced to decide what the rest of their life will look like? Daddy’s not feeling my argument at all. But I get that you have to start taking specialized classes sophomore year. It makes sense to take ones that will support your career.
So yeah. TGIF. My determination to whip up some serious summer fun is stronger than ever. No amount of work can prevent me from having a blast this weekend. On my way out to meet up with Jude, I swing by Sadie’s room to say bye.
“Have fun with your hot boyfriend,” I say.
Sadie is in a frenzy of getting ready. Clothes are scattered everywhere. I feel for her. Having Austin come over for the weekend is super exciting, but also super nerve-racking.
“Have you seen my bronzer?” she asks. “Forget it—no time!”
“Your makeup looks perfect,” I reassure her. “Not many girls can pull off the natural look as flawlessly as you do.”
“Oh, you are a good friend to lie. Keep them coming.”
“I’m serious. Austin is a lucky boy.”
“So is Jude.” Sadie yanks off the top she tried on. She grabs a dress from her bed. I leave before I distract her any more from her race against the clock.
Jude and I have the whole night to do whatever we want. We just saw each other three days ago, but it feels like way longer. I haven’t given him the HELLO shirt yet. Tonight is so gorgeous we decided to walk around the West Village before dinner (for which I have to treat, as per the bet I lost last time), hitting this all-ages lounge called Welcome to the Johnsons, and then seeing where the night takes us. I didn’t want Jude to be carrying around a shirt the whole time.
“So what have you been up to?” Jude asks as we round the corner onto West 10th Street.
“Not much.” A flash of hooking up with Random Boy at the Gap strikes me like lightning. “Classes. Hanging with my girls. Going out. What about you?”
“Working the park as much as I can. That’s how I roll in the summer. Later sunset means more performance time. It’s been a really good season so far. The park’s been super busy. I don’t remember it being as busy last year.”
“That’s hot. More people are discovering you.”
“Not much to discover. I’m just happy to have such a fun gig.”
We pass a townhouse with a silver swing in the ground-floor picture window.
“Yo, they have an entire swing in their house,” Jude says. “They’re like, ‘We don’t have a yard, but fuck that.’”
There’s a woman standing outside taking pictures of the swing. I ask her for the backstory.
“It’s an art installation,” the woman explains. “I know the owner of the house. He has two little girls who play on the swing. They all live upstairs. He switches the piece every few months.”
“How badass is that?” I say. “Can you imagine being able to showcase your own art where you live? For anyone walking by to see?”
“It’s pretty amazing down here,” she agrees. “I live up in Harlem. The Village is like a whole other world.”
“Do you like Harlem?”
“It’s affordable. That’s where I’m at.” She tilts her head back, gazing up at the top of the townhouse where part of a tree is visible. “Making a living as an artist plus having gallery space right in your own home? That’s an incredible achievement anywhere, much less pulling it off in the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan.”
We say goodbye and continue down West 10th Street. Conversations like this make me thankful for my financial situation all over again. I have access to major parental financial supplementation. Not a day goes by where I’m not grateful for my luck. I could have just as easily been born into a poor family. That’s why I enjoy treating my friends and spreading the wealth. Rosanna keeps protesting over the clothes and accessories I gave her. But I don’t care. She can protest all she wants. There’s no way I’m taking any of that stuff back. The clothes look amazing on her. She’s a good person who deserves to be treated. And she needs nicer things to ride the D train. He’s taking her to the most exclusive restaurants and venues. You can’t do Butter rocking your best Kmart/Payless ensemble.
But yeah. I can essentially stay here after graduation for as long as I want. I can even buy a place like D’s loft if I want to. As long as I decide on a viable career, Daddy would totally be willing to help me out in the home department. The kind of home most people work for their whole lives and never get to have.
“Are you so excited for next week?” I ask Jude. He’s presenting to a few potential investors. One of them will hopefully back his project.
“Either excited or terrified. I can’t really tell.”
“Everyone will love you. How could they not? Your invention is genius.” I’m worried that Jude won’t get funded, but I’m keeping that doubt to myself. He needs nothing but encouragement right now.
After I treat for dinner at ABC Kitchen, we head to the Lower East. Welcome to the Johnsons is packed by the time we get there. Jude knew I’d love this lounge. It’s tricked out like some suburban family’s living room circa 1985. Plastic-covered couches. Pac-Man. Pink flamingoes. The works. I’m in kitsch heaven.
We grab drinks and snag a huge recliner in the corner. There’s a Hawaiian doll in a grass skirt dangling from the pleated lampshade above us.
“Classy,” I say.
“I knew you’d love it.”
“You know all the best places.”
“Stick with me. You’ll be an expert on the best holes in the wall by the end of the summer.”
“How could I resist?”
“I’m hoping you can’t.” Jude gives me an adorable smile that makes my heart melt. Or would make my heart melt if I was on the market to have my heart melted.
“Who were you in high school?” I ask. Rosanna told me how she asked D this question. I immediately acquired it as part of my small talk repertoire.
“Other than myself?”
“I mean what kind of person were you? Were you always the laid-back, go-with-the-flow, artistic-entrepreneurial-genius type?”
“More like the geeked-out, loser, slacker type. The girls couldn’t keep their hands off me.”
“Who was your first crush?”
“Samantha Rutherford in fourth grade. She sat next to me. I kept getting in trouble because my teacher thought I was staring out the window, but I was actually sneaking looks at Samantha. She had the lightest blond hair I’ve ever seen. She looked like an angel.”
“Did she like you back?”
“Circumstances would indicate not so much. But I know she’s been pining for me ever since. She’s probably stalking me online and strategizing how to find me in the park accidentally on purpose.”
“Maybe she was waiting for you to tell her you liked her.”
“You mean when I snuck a love letter in her desk at recess and she showed it to all her friends and never spoke to me again? Yeah, tried that.”
“That’s what you get, falling for a blonde.”
“I was devastated.”
“At least you told her how you felt. That was really brave.”
“You’d think I’d be more cautious about revealing my feelings too soon. But, no. Here I am wearing my heart on my sleeve, transparent as ever.”
“I think it’s sweet. So many guys are obsessed with hiding their feelings. Or playing games. What is it with guys being emotionally unavailable? Who even came up with that? Guys think they’re protecting themselves from getting hurt or hurting someone else, but they’re actually preventing themselves from experiencing so much.”
Jude watches some girls dancing to the next retro track in what I’m sure is a long lineup of throwback jams. “Isn’t that kind of what you’re doing?” he asks.
“What?”
“Protecting yourself? Or . . . preventing yourself?”
How am I supposed to answer that? The last thing I want to do is explain the catalyst for Summer Fun Darcy.
“You know when I wasn’t protecting myself?” I deflect. “When I had more first crushes than I can remember. You’re like, Bam! Samantha Rutherford. But I do remember the first crush I had that mortified me. There was this boy I liked in seventh grade. I doodled his name with hearts all over a practice quiz I thought we were throwing out after class. I almost died when my teacher collected them so we could switch and grade each other’s quizzes. Of course his friend got mine. He saw what I wrote and caught my eye. He taunted me with these menacing snickers all through grading the quizzes. He couldn’t wait to tell my crush. Mortified.”
“At the time it was huge, wasn’t it? I remember how everything was so much larger than life back then. Every little thing was blown out of proportion.”
“I know. I can’t believe I cared about half the stuff that bothered me in high school.”
“I can’t believe anything ever bothered you.”
“Yeah, well.” I lean back on the recliner. My tiny skater dress is hiked up high on my thighs. I don’t pull it down. Let Jude enjoy the view. “That was then.”
“And this is now, where you only focus on the present?”
“Exactly.” Cathartic full-circle moments like this rule. I love how we can talk about memories from back in the day that were devastating at the time, but have now been reduced to funny stories we laugh about. There was the boy I really liked who remained elusive in seventh grade. Then there was the boy who ripped my heart to shreds before I moved here. Now there’s the boy who likes me who wants to be let in. I don’t know what’s going to happen between us. I just know I’m not going to worry about it. Worrying about the future is pointless. All we ever have is the Now. This moment, right here, is the only thing that matters.
THIRTY-THREE
ROSANNA
SADIE’S DOOR IS CLOSED WHEN I come home from Dean & DeLuca. She’s probably in her room with Austin. I don’t want to disturb them, so I go to my room and close the door.
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