Читать книгу You’ll Find Me in Manhattan - Jill Knapp - Страница 12

On Thursday, I finally had a day off from Dr. Greenfield’s lab, but unfortunately it didn’t mean I had a day off from class. When the spring semester started back up last February, it became clear that getting the classes you wanted was nearly impossible. Now that we were in our final year, we didn’t get to choose anything.

Thankfully, working in the research lab counted as a course, which meant I was only taking two classes this semester, Family Studies on Tuesdays and Gender and Contemporary Issues. Gender and Contemporary Issues was today at one o’clock and lasted until three o’clock. Although I wasn’t thrilled with the required courses I had to take, this was the first time at NYU that I didn’t have class either first thing in the morning or at six o’clock at night.

I finished packing my bag and headed into my bathroom to spruce myself up a bit, saying a silent thank you every time I remembered what it was like to have two roommates. I really loved living alone.

I was meeting Olivia for lunch at twelve, and then we were going straight to class together. Michael was also in this class, so I needed to look good. Even after knowing him for two years, I still got nervous every time I was around him.

Class with Michael was sometimes a little awkward. We didn’t always sit directly next to each other, although we always sat in the same row with Olivia and Alex. I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly caused my discomfort, but I couldn’t help but compare myself to Olivia and Alex. They always looked like a couple. Even when they were sitting together in complete silence, there was this undeniable connection between the two of them. I wondered what people thought when they saw Michael and me sitting together. Or if they even noticed at all.

I swept the final coat of mascara over my lashes and rifled through my closet until I found a new lightweight jacket I had just bought from a boutique in the Village. I didn’t make a ton of money working at the school, but I made enough to buy something for myself every once in a while. I pulled off the tags and slipped my arms through the tan-colored coat sleeves. Grabbing my iPod, I dashed to the door and slammed it shut behind me.

As I was walked toward the subway terminal, I felt my cell phone vibrate through my purse. I decided I had better check it in case it was Olivia cancelling our plans. But it wasn’t from Olivia: it was from Hayden. My heart fell into my stomach and I begin to read the message.

“Hey, Amalia. I just wanted to see how you were. It’s been a while since I last spoke to you. I was hoping we could get together for a drink. Maybe we could try to be friends? Let me know when you’re available.”

I stood at the top of the subway terminal re-reading the message. A group of men on their way to work loudly cleared their throats behind me to get through. “Sorry,” I mumbled, stepping aside to let them pass. I had no idea how to respond, or if I even should. I shook my head and put my cell phone back in my purse, resolving to deal with Hayden’s message later.

One subway ride later, I was at Artichoke, one of my favorite pizza places in the city. Unfortunately, most of my appetite had been destroyed by anxiety. Olivia was already standing outside of the restaurant waiting for me, passively looking at something on her phone and smoking a cigarette.

“Is it just me, or is the subway becoming more disgusting with each passing day?” I muttered with a grimace. I didn’t want to talk to Olivia about Hayden’s message until I could fully process what it meant. Did I want to be friends with him? More importantly, why would he want to be friends with me after the way I treated him?

“It’s even worse when you’re coming from Brooklyn,” she slipped her cell into the back pocket of her jeans and flicked the cigarette on the ground. She looked down at it for a second and pursed her lips.

She had a sullen look on her face and her eyes were glassy. But before I could open my mouth to ask her what was wrong she started back up.

“Maybe I should try to quit smoking before the wedding.”

“Finally!” I shook my head. “Think of it as the first step towards saving up for your honeymoon.”

She let out a chuckle but it sounded a bit broken. Something was definitely wrong.

The host showed us to our seats and we settled into a small booth. Before we could even place our drink orders, Olivia began to grill me about my and Michael’s date.

“I asked him to be my date to your wedding,” I smiled. I could feel myself blushing and reached for a glass of water. Thinking about Michael as my wedding date was an instant mood boost. He would easily be the most handsome guy there.

“You do know we haven’t even set a date yet?” she replied in a mocking tone, without looking up from her menu.

“I know, and he still said yes!” I lightly tapped my hands on the table to get her attention.

“I’ll have him usher you down the aisle,” she offered, her gaze still on the menu. “Since he’s going to be a groomsman. Oh, and Alex and I are going to look at some venues this weekend, so we should know a date soon enough.”

For someone who was getting a dream wedding, she certainly didn’t seem very happy about it. I wondered if she and Alex had gotten into some kind of squabble.

I twisted a curl around in my finger and let out a soft sigh. For a moment I let myself image would it would be like to have a wedding of my own, even though I was in no rush to get married. I let the fantasy dance around my head. I envisioned a small wedding on a beach somewhere like the Virgin Islands. I would be wearing a short, but elegant, wedding dress, with a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. Michael in a crisp, linen suit, looking more perfect than ever.

Apparently Olivia noticed me day-dreaming because the next thing I saw was her snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Amalia. We’re splitting the pizza with the artichokes on it?” she cocked her head to the side.

“Obviously,” I said in a mocking tone. “So back to my date, we went out to dinner and it was wonderful.” I let out a dramatic sigh. I felt like a love-sick teenager and had no doubt in my mind that I was coming off as one too.

She seemed to consider this.

“What was the best part?” she leaned closer to me, her charm bracelets clanking on the table.

“Going back to his apartment and not feeling like I was doing anything wrong when I spent the night,” I laughed nervously as I remembered the days of sneaking around. “And then having coffee with him in the morning before I left. I felt like we were a real couple.”

“But you’re not, are you?” she asked, looking me straight in the eyes. “I mean, you’re not in a committed relationship.”

“No, not yet,” I swirled my straw around in my water glass. “But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.” It bothered me that she had to point that out so declaratively.

“Are you still in love with him?” she continued, with wide eyes.

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I don’t know if I ever really stopped being in love with him. Even when I was with Hayden, who I cared about so much, I never completely stopped thinking about Michael. It was as if my feelings for him were simply put on hold, like they were in remission, but never completely eradicated.” I felt guilty for saying that after how wonderfully Hayden treated me. He had even told me he loved me, but I never felt sure enough about our relationship to say it back.

Olivia nodded and looked as if she was thinking this information over. “Does that mean you wouldn’t hook up with anyone else? Even though the two of you are just dating?”

I quickly shook my head. I couldn’t tell whether she was trying to drag me down into her bad mood or not, but her demeanor was definitely starting to get on my nerves.

“No,” I leaned my chin on my palm of my hand and scrunched up my face at the thought of being with another guy. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize being with him.”

“Do you think he would?” she asked, softening a bit.

I opened my mouth to answer, but then closed it. I just sat there for a moment, trying to form a sentence. The idea of Michael sleeping with someone else was extremely painful, even though we weren’t in a committed relationship.

“I don’t know,” was all I could muster up. A wave of jealousy rolled through my chest and stomach at the idea of Michael even kissing another girl. I shook my head, telling myself not to think that way.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia said flatly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I wasn’t sure why, but the question continued to bounce around in my mind. Would he continue to date other girls? Or were we trying to work toward something together?

“I’m alright,” I lied, forcing a smile on my face. I ran my hands over my forehead and then through my hair. “What about you, Olivia? Are you alright?” I asked softly?

She just nodded and gave me a crooked smile.

“We should order because we’re going to be late to class,” I closed my menu.

“Sure,” she said, cocking her head to the side. I could tell what she was thinking, and what that look meant. Pity. And I hated being pitied.

The next morning I woke up early and decided to take an impromptu stroll at around eight-thirty over to the farmer’s market set up in Union Square. Being that the Union Square subway entrance was one of the easiest ways to transfer to any line in the city, the neighborhood was always busy. This morning, however, 14^th street was downright packed. I thought about turning back for a moment, but then I remembered the contents of my refrigerator were low, and I could really use some fresh fruit.

As I browsed a stand boasting the best apples in the city, I got a funny feeling. Like someone was watching me. I paid the cashier for a few apples and then turned around to see if I was going crazy. I wasn’t. Two stands over, next to a woman selling artisan jam, stood Cassandra. She was mulling over a purchase as she looked up and caught my eye. I froze. This was the second time I had seen her out in the wild. I still had no intention of walking over to her. The last thing I said to her was that she owed me an apology. I’m still waiting for one.

We both just stood there for a moment, watching each other. It was obvious she was on her way to work. She was wearing a light-blue, knee-length dress with nude pumps. I had donned sweat pants and an old David Bowie t-shirt. I felt a pang of sadness as I remembered how close we were just a little over a year ago. I missed her. As I watched her gaze leave mine, her hand reach into her purse, and hand the woman cash in exchange for the jam, it dawned on me that she really didn’t miss me. She didn’t look back at me after that, she just took off. I watched her strut to the corner of 13^th and Broadway so she could more easily hail a cab to work.

I took a deep breath and a few warm tears hit my cheeks. I didn’t know what to think. How could someone change so much in such a short amount of time? And then I thought of my ex-boyfriend, Nicholas. Hadn’t something similar happened to him? I wiped the tears away, but they just kept coming. Was something in the water here? How was it that two people who were such a huge part of my life, could just morph into completely different individuals and utterly not care if they ever saw or spoke to me again. Granted, I was the one who had broken things off with Nick the second time around. But that was after he turned into a power-hungry snob. I bit my bottom lip and wondered if the same thing was happening to Cassandra.

I finally stopped crying long enough to check the time on my phone. I had a “good morning” text from Michael that allowed my trembling lips to smile. I texted him back, popped on my headphones, and walked back to my neighborhood with my apples in tow.