We’ve Always Got New York

“Because,” she started to say, as she began walking again. “I’m pretty sure that girl was Marge.”

Chapter 7 (#ulink_3e824b1f-a578-5c3e-8b46-a7e6e859e357)

Amalia (#ulink_3e824b1f-a578-5c3e-8b46-a7e6e859e357)

“Let me get this straight,” Cassandra said, in a tone that resembled utter disbelief. “She just walked right up to you and slapped you?”

Later that day, after telling Olivia I was too upset to get tea and macaroons, we went back to her apartment to veg out. Olivia understood when I called the realtor and moved the last two appointments to tomorrow. Feeling the need to vent, I sent Cassie a ton of text messages until she finally called me back. Usually it only took one or two messages to get her full attention, but ever since I got back from Brazil she had been acting distant. I tried to put all of that on the back burner as I regaled her with my story.

“Yes!” I cried into the phone. “I just stood there, shocked.” I was pacing around Olivia’s bedroom, replaying the events of today over and over again in my head. “I mean, the girl must have figured out Michael was cheating on her with me somehow, hence the slap.”

Cassandra let out a deep sigh on the other end and then muttered something in Italian. Cassandra’s grandparents had insisted she learn Italian, so ever since we were younger she would spit out Italian phrases from time to time.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with this Marge chick?” she said loudly. I winced and held the phone away from my ear for a second. “Who just goes around walking up to people on the streets of New York, slapping them?”

I took a deep breath and collapsed onto Olivia’s bed. She was in the living room talking to Alex on the phone, so I took the opportunity for some privacy and ducked into her bedroom.

“Someone who was being cheated on?” I asked rhetorically.

“Yeah,” Cassandra agreed. “I guess that’s who.”

“I mean I totally deserved it,” I started. “Even though he was evasive about the details of his and Marge’s relationship, I shouldn’t have taken that as an open invitation to start something with Michael.” Suddenly images of Michael flooded my mind. The scent of sandalwood, the taste of his kiss, the way my heart would race whenever he would run his fingers through my hair. He had always kept his relationship with Marge to himself, to the point that there were times where I wondered if they had broken up. She lived halfway across the country, so at the time it felt easy to justify what we were doing. I finally came to terms with the fact that I was the “other woman” when he didn’t come out for our group’s New Year’s Eve plans, but instead caught a flight to visit Marge. As the memories swirled around in my mind, I felt a flush of emotion that I had locked away for the past few months. I immediately hated myself for it.

“I wouldn’t go that far, Amy,” she said. I could hear her moving around in her apartment, her high heels clacking against the fake-hardwood floors. “The girl essentially assaulted you on the sidewalk.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, suddenly wondering why I was defending this girl. “It didn’t hurt that much. Besides, if her relationship with Michael was anything like mine, then he left her more than a little upset. Does it suck that she took it out on me? Sure. But at the same token, if Nicholas had been cheating on me I’d probably want to slap someone too.”

I had known Nicholas for years before we started dating. We met at Rutgers University and after we graduated he professed his love for me one evening. Apprehensively, I gave it a chance. It didn’t take long for his admiration to win me over. On my twenty-third birthday, we got into an argument and he stormed out of a surprise party that Cassandra had thrown for me. A few days later he broke up with me, leaving me absolutely destroyed.

“Have you seen him since you’ve been back?” Cassandra asked.

“Who, Nicholas?” I asked. “Or Michael?”

“Michael.”

“No, I haven’t. But luckily for me classes start back up tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll see him around,” I said, feeling exhausted by the thought of having to begin studying and writing papers again. “We’ll most likely have at least one class together. There aren’t that many students in our program.” I sat up straight in Olivia’s bed and noticed a framed picture of her and Alex displayed on her nightstand. From what I could tell, the picture was recent. They both still had a tan and Olivia was wearing a coral-colored maxi dress. Alex had on a white polo shirt and aviator sunglasses. His arm was wrapped around Olivia’s waist. Olivia was turned toward Alex and she was laughing. I picked up the frame and smiled, then almost immediately after felt a pang of sadness and put down the frame. “As for Nicholas, I honestly hope I never see him again.” After Nick and I tried to get back together months after our break-up, I realized we had both changed and it could never work. The person he had turned into was someone I could never be friends with. Pretentious, arrogant, and self-important.

“What if you saw him out one night?” Cassandra asked, her voice even. “If we were out to dinner at Nobu and he just happened to be seated a few tables away?”

“Then I would ignore him,” I said, declaratively. “Or if I really felt uncomfortable, I would leave.”

I heard Cassandra open her fridge and pour herself a glass of something. She paused for a few seconds and then loudly swallowed.

“I know he’s a jerk, but you’d really just cut someone out of your life like that?” she asked. “The two of you have so much history together, you don’t think one day you’d be able to be friends?”

I wasn’t sure why, but Cassandra suggesting I should be friends with Nick suddenly made me question her loyalty. Whose side was she on, anyway?

“Whether or not we could be friends one day is not even a thought in my mind,” I said, my blood pressure rising at the mention of having to see him again. “He hurt me, Cass. Worse than anyone ever has, at least yet. I don’t want to be friends with someone who could treat me like that. The idea of being around him makes me feel sick.”

“You won’t always feel that way,” she offered.

“Hopefully not,” I said. “Hopefully I will get to a point when someone mentions him to me I could honestly say I don’t give a shit about him one way or another. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I am still pining for the guy. I am completely over him. I’m just not completely over the way he made me feel about myself.”

“How did he make you feel?” she asked, the ice cubes in her cup clanking against the glass.

I took a long pause and stared back up at Olivia’s ceiling. I could feel myself getting emotional, the tears forming behind my eyes. But the emotion wasn’t brought on by losing Nicholas, it was from allowing him to treat me how he did for so long.

“Pathetic,” I said, steadying my voice. “He made me feel pathetic. And no one who can make me feel that way deserves to be my friend.”

Cassandra went silent for a few seconds. I took the opportunity to quietly let out a few tears. I glanced around Olivia’s room. I couldn’t help but be thankful for her. In the past year she had become a great friend. I had only ever been in here one other time; the day she, Michael and I were studying for exams. The walls were painted a fresh, light-gray color, and the furniture was dark brown. Not rustic-looking, but definitely antique. There was a framed Dashboard Confessional set list on the dresser, which was dated May 31st, 2009. I assumed it was most likely left over from her emo days in college. The bedspread I had now made a mess out of consisted of an off-white, eye-lit comforter with a burgundy quilt folded at the foot of the bed. The room felt very warm, cozy. Downright comfortable for Brooklyn, at least. The only problem, as with most New York City apartments, was the hideous HVAC wall unit that stuck out of the only window. Adding a certain sterile feeling to the room. Even with the curtains she had carefully hung, an obvious attempt to hide the eyesore, the fact that it was there would mean this room would never really feel like home.

“Amalia? You still there?”

“Yes” I said, suddenly remembering I was still on the phone. “I’m here. Sorry.”

“So how’s it going over at Olivia’s?”

“Actually, earlier today before the slap incident, we started apartment-hunting,” I said.

“For the both of you?” she asked.

“No, just for me,” I answered quickly. “I never want another roommate again. Not that Olivia would be a bad roommate. I just think it’s time for me to get comfortable living alone.”

“Did you see anything worth living in?” she asked. I heard her typing on a computer in the background.

“Not today,” I said, reliving the hell that was that apartment. “But I have two lined up for tomorrow after class. One in Murray Hill and one in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Nice, keep me posted.”

“I will”, I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. The thought of seeing two more apartments didn’t exactly fill me with hope, but it was something that I had to get done. “Hey, what happened with that guy Brandon? Did you end up going out?”

“Yeah, we had brunch at Morandi.”

“Well?” I said, raising the energy in my voice. “Do you like him? Did you kiss? Cassandra! Where are my details?”

“Yes, I like him.” Cassandra let out a soft laugh. “And yes we did kiss.”

“Nice!” I opened my mouth to say more, but she quickly cut me off.

“But listen, I have to go,” she said suddenly. “I just got an email from my boss and he wants me to take care of something.”

I looked at my watch. 8:00 pm.

“Oh okay,” I said, not pushing the subject. “But hey, let’s talk tomorrow and you can tell me more about your new man!”

“Sure, I’ll shoot you a text,” she said quickly, more typing in the background. Followed by a soft sigh.

“Okay. Bye Cassie.” I let out a sigh after I hung up, and wondered how much longer Cassandra was going to be distant.