Читать книгу We’ve Always Got New York - Jill Knapp - Страница 11

I had just gotten off the phone with my dad when I heard a loud, urgent knock on my door. I glanced at the clock, four in the afternoon. I wasn’t expecting anyone. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see Amalia. She was standing there with a suitcase and a broken smile. Her curly blonde hair was frizzier than usual, and her blue eyes were wet and red. She had either just been crying or she was coming down with the flu.

“Holy crap! What are you doing here?” I gasped.

She rolled her puffy eyes and placed her suitcase on the floor, all the while still standing in my doorway.

“I’m back!” she said, with faux enthusiasm. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes, I can see that. Well, welcome back!” I pulled her in for a hug. “I thought you were staying with Cassandra!”

“Well, I am. I mean, I was,” she mumbled. “I think. I’m not sure anymore.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think I want to stay with her.”

“What do you mean? Why not?” I motioned for her to come inside. “Did something happen?”

Amalia sat down on my couch and ran her fingers through her hair. I think she noticed how frizzy it was becoming because seconds later she pulled a small mirror from her purse and tried to smooth it out.

“Well, I got there last night and she just seemed so distracted. I mean I understand everyone has their own shit going on, but I had just come home after being gone for three months!” she said, her eyes tearing up. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and began again. “I wanted to just crash when I landed, but she dragged me out to Fire Island until four in the morning! I have no idea who any of the people were that she was hanging out with. In all seriousness, she flat-out ignored me the whole time we were there. I mean, I just got back to New York and I figured she’d want to spend some time with her best friend, you know?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she wasn’t done yet.

“And then this morning, I’m trying to ask her about this guy she ’might have a date with‘, and she acts like I’m the C.I.A debriefing her on her latest mission. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I don’t feel comfortable staying there. I don’t feel welcomed.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand why she acted that way,” I offered, genuinely unsure.

“I don’t either. It’s like she’s changed. Or something,” she muttered, shaking her head. Her face was washed with disbelief and anxiety. “Did the two of you hang out at all this summer while I was gone?”

“No. I haven’t seen her since that day at your apartment when we all said goodbye to you,” I said. Amalia sunk her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I wish I had more to go on.”

She looked at the floor and then back up to me. Her eyes started to water-up again, but she shook her head in an effort to compose herself.

“Great to be back,” she mumbled with a cracking voice.

“You must be exhausted,” I placed my hand lightly on her back. “Do you want some tea?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle, a little gift from Alex. Looking back at Amalia, who was now holding her head in her hands and shaking her head. She had come so far last year, realizing she didn’t want to put up with Michael’s indecision anymore. Last year was a nightmare for her. She had gotten dumped cold by her boyfriend, Nicholas, only to fall head over heels for Michael. We all knew Michael had a girlfriend who lived in Arizona, but he kept his personal life so private I could see how easily Amalia could have put it in the back of her mind. From my perspective, he strung her along all semester. When he finally decided to break up with his girlfriend, Marge, Amalia was already packed and ready to leave for her trip to Brazil. I was so proud of her for not abandoning her plans. After all her growth and self-discovery, it was hard for me to see her have to deal with Cassandra’s selfish personality.

“Where are you going to stay?” I called from the kitchen.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Well, it looks like I am heading back home to stay with my parents,” she called to me. “I haven’t even spoken to them since I left, so that should be interesting.”

I could see new tears forming in her eyes. Between the crying and her unkempt disposition, she looked like a crazy person.

“It’s fine, really,” she waved her hand and let out a soft hiccup. “I mean it only takes about 15 minutes by train for me to get to the ferry, and then it’s only half an hour on the ferry itself. Followed by another 20 minutes on the subway and then a short 10-minute walk to school.” Her hands were starting to shake. I wondered how long it had been since she last ate something. “So you know, if I have class at 8 in the morning, I have to leave my house by about 6:30 just to play it safe. But hey, I’ve always been a fan of watching the sun rise.”

Her eyes were wide and unblinking. She brought her hands up to her face and just left them there, as if she needed to hold her head up to stop it falling off. It was obvious that she was desperately exhausted, probably still jet-lagged.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, pouring the now-boiled water. “You can stay here for a few days.”

“Are you serious?” she said, suddenly perking up. She removed her hands from her face and clapped them together. “I won’t be in your way, I promise.”

I laughed and handed her my old University of Florida mug that I got at orientation my first day of college.

“I’m completely serious. It’s not a big deal at all,” I said. “But you might want to avoid any further homelessness by finding an apartment of your own.”

I always wondered why Amalia got rid of that fantastic apartment she had in the Village. I assumed it was because of all the bad memories. Or the high cost. Money was something our group very rarely talked about. We all just sat in silent wonder about how the other afforded their apartment.

“I think I’ll grab The Village Voice while I’m out today and start checking some listings,” she offered.

“That’s a good idea,” I sipped my green tea. “You know what else might be a good idea?”

“What?” she asked.

“A shower.”