We’ve Always Got New York

I placed the phone down and smoothed over Olivia’s bedspread. I reached my arms above my head and let myself feel a small stretch. I was thoroughly exhausted. I rolled onto my side and checked my phone to see if I had any emails. There was one from my brother, Aaron. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I left for Brazil. I sent a postcard when I had the chance, but other than that we had no communication for nearly three months. I really wanted to keep to myself during that trip. It was nice to clear my mind of everything that was happening in New York. I rationalized that I was too tired to read and write back to the email right then and there, so I left it for tomorrow. Aaron and I had gotten closer, but there was still room for improvement. I closed my eyes and let my head sink into Olivia’s down-stuffed pillow. I would get up in a minute and make my way over to the couch, but for now it felt nice. My phone began to buzz and I knocked it over on the floor. No more interactions for today. I was done.

I woke up the next morning to harsh sunlight pouring into my eyes, and the painful sensation of an elbow jamming into the middle of my back.

“Ow,” I murmured. I lifted my head up and pushed the nest of blonde hair out of my eyes. Olivia was sound asleep next to me, curled up into a ball at the end of the bed. Shit, I forgot to sleep on the couch. I slowly reached over her and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. 7:00 am. Class today was beginning at 9, and I figured now was as good a time as any to start the day.

“Olivia?” I said softly, lightly touching her shoulder. She didn’t move. “Hey, we have to wake up now.” I shook her gently. It was our first day of the new semester and I was happy we would be walking in together.

Olivia’s brown eyes flew open, like when you see a killer regain consciousness in a horror movie. She turned and looked at me, then squinted. She lifted up her head and began scanning the room with her tired eyes. When she was finished, she scrunched up her face and let out a grunt. “Sorry, I didn’t know where I was for a second,” she uttered through a hoarse voice.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep in your bed last night,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty. “I closed my eyes for a second and the next thing I knew it was morning.”

“Don’t worry about it”, she yawned. “What time is it anyway?”

“Seven,” I said, and then immediately yawned myself. “We have plenty of time.”

Olivia let out another grunt and then threw the covers off her body and on to my face.

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled, coming to life. Olivia stood up and did a full-body stretch. She shook her head around, making her brown hair fly back and forth. “I’ll put on the coffee and then we can walk over to school.”

“Oh, joy”, I muttered, dramatically kicking off the blanket.

We made our way into the small kitchen area and I plopped down on a child-sized chair that accompanied a bistro table in the corner of her living room. Or maybe it was her kitchen. They kind of blended into one room. Olivia grabbed the electric kettle and filled it with tap water.

“Don’t forget about your apartment viewings later at 4 o’clock,” she said, hitting the power button on the kettle.

“I won’t”, I muttered, followed by another yawn. “Thanks, mom.”

“So last night”, she started, grabbing two matching mugs from the overhead cabinet. “I actually thought about something you could do for money. You know, for rent and food. All of that good stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“When I was on the phone with Alex, he mentioned that the school is offering a few new Work Study programs for students who need help paying for tuition this year. The pay isn’t amazing, but you’d get research experience that you could put on your résumé. You’d definitely qualify, considering you have no job and you’re basically homeless.”

“Who knew my homelessness could help further my academic career?” I said, getting up to grab the skim milk from the fridge. “Did he say how I go about applying for this gig?”

Olivia poured a generous amount of milk into her coffee, leaving any sugar substitutions out of it. “He gave me the name of the professor in charge. It’s Dr. Greenfield. I’ll text you his email address.”

“Dr. Greenfield, eh?” I sipped my coffee. “Never heard of him.”

“Apparently he’s new. Flown in fresh from Charlotte.”

“Well, thank you, Olivia. That’s actually really helpful. And, hey, thank Alex for me too.”

“You can thank him yourself today in Advanced Social Psychology,” she smiled. “Which Dr. Greenfield is teaching and I believe starts in a little over an hour, so we should probably get a move on.”

I looked down at my coffee and slowly swirled the spoon around. There was one question that had been plaguing me since I got off the phone with Cassandra last night. Something I had been putting off talking about. Something I was going to find the answer out to soon enough.

“Hey, Olivia?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “Do you know if Michael is in this class?”

Chapter 8 (#ulink_d9a0f808-7062-50d7-9701-b9502796fead)

Olivia (#ulink_d9a0f808-7062-50d7-9701-b9502796fead)

“Here we go, again,” Amalia stood with her arms across her chest and slowly scanned the room.

The old, rustic-looking classroom was packed to the brim with students. They appeared to be scrambling to say hello to each other after only a short three months apart. Everyone was broken up into their respective cliques. There were the hipsters, the wannabe Blair Waldorf’s, the Adderall addicts, the annoying people who always began their emails with “I hope this email finds you well!” and the 4.0’s, who barely conversed with anyone who couldn’t further their academic achievement.

Needless to say, there was a lot of energy in the air.

Amalia clutched her purse close to her chest and kept her blonde head down. Her jaw was tight and her shoulders were slouched. She was wearing silver sandals, skinny jeans, a low-cut light- blue tank top, and a fitted black blazer. She looked half professional, and half Weekend at Bernie’s. I noticed her lagging behind and I dragged her down the ramp of the exact same auditorium-sized classroom we had all colonized last year.

“Hey, I think I see Alex,” she said, pointing to a small group of people in the front of the classroom.

I craned my neck toward the front of the room and spotted him. He was wearing the new Burberry polo shirt I had got him as a surprise gift last week. I smiled widely and he caught my eye. Since Amalia had been staying with me the past few days, I barely had an opportunity to see him. Alex patted the guy he was talking to on the back and made his way over to us.

“Hey darlin’.” He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. Then on the lips. “You look great today.”

“Hey, yourself,” I said through a wide grin. I pulled him in for a hug and took the opportunity to breathe deeply through my nose, silently losing myself in a warm embrace of what smelled like cedar wood and rich nutmeg. When it was over, I turned to Amalia, who was currently engaged in an eye roll.

“Hastings, good to see you,” Alex said, with as much diplomacy as he could muster.

Amalia smiled tightly. Her red lip-gloss stretched perfectly over her lips.

I gave Amalia my best “be nice” look.

“How are you?” she asked, still smiling.

“I’m great!” he said, “Now don’t just stand there, give me a hug.”

Amalia’s small frame disappeared next to Alex as he pulled her in for an awkward hug. She recoiled slightly, but he didn’t let go for a few seconds. I tried not to laugh.

“This class is packed,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked around and spotted my friend Angela. We hit it off last year, but she was someone I had only one class with and I hadn’t gotten an opportunity to introduce her to anyone else yet. I noticed she was talking to some guy, but still decided to call her name out from halfway across the room.

“Hey, Angie!” I waved at her and smiled brightly.

She picked her head up and looked around the room for a minute. Realizing it was me calling her, she grabbed the guy she was talking to and made a beeline over to us. As she came closer I could see she was wearing a long, light-pink dress that looked great on her dark skin, her dark- brown hair hung straight down to the middle of her back, and she finished her look off with lots of long gold necklaces and chunky bracelets. The guy walking next to her was wearing suede loafers, dark jeans, and a blue-striped, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His head was down in a book, most likely getting a head start with the reading for this class. I couldn’t tell who she was with; all I could make out was his brown hair.

“Who’s that girl?” Amalia asked, craning her neck to get a better look.

“Angela Edwards,” I explained. “She was in my Readings in Behavioral Sciences class last year. She’s really nice, you’ll like her.”

I smiled and reached out for Alex’s hand. As I did, he pulled me in closer to whisper something in my ear.

“Did you know Angela and Michael have been hanging out?” he whispered.

Before I could answer him, I turned to Amalia, who had realized a few seconds before I did that the guy Angie was walking over with was none other than Michael Rathbourne. Amalia’s face froze. Her eyes were slightly widened and her mouth was tightly shut. She looked around the room for a few seconds, as if she was deciding what she should do. After a hard look at the exit doors, she finally settled for taking a small step back and then looking down at her feet.

“Guess that answers your question,” she muttered to the floor.