You'll Find Me in Manhattan Read online

  I put my up hands in mock defeat. “As you wish, princess.” It felt good to talk about this. Planning a party wasn’t stressful. At least not compared to mapping out your entire future. “How about dinner, destination to be determined, followed by celebratory drinks at the Bubble Lounge?”

  The Bubble Lounge was a landmark champagne bar downtown in the TriBeca neighborhood.

  Olivia pressed her lips together and shook her head. “It closed a few months back.”

  I made what sounded like a mix between a sigh and a laugh. “Of course it closed.” I looked straight at Olivia and shook my head. “Is it just me, or are all of the great places closing?”

  “It’s different for you, being a native New Yorker,” she offered. “Don’t let it get you down, Amalia. There are still a million fun things to do here.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “Still a million different ways to get in trouble!”

  “I’ll figure out something epic for us to do,” I said softly. “Your singleness is going to go out with a bang.”

  Twenty-two – Olivia

  Thanks to the alarm clock not going off on my phone that morning, I was already late to my first class. I was darting down 5th avenue, making a beeline straight for Washington Square Park. I was only on 5th avenue and 16th street. I still had a little while to go.

  “Olivia?” a voice called from behind me. My first instinct was to ignore it. I was already late and chatting with someone right now would only make it worse.

  “Olivia Davis?” this guy wouldn’t give up. I stop talking and whipped around, stunned by who was standing in front of me.

  “Hayden?” I stood still and offered him a smile. I breathed heavily a few times, trying to catch my breath after my sprint.

  “Hey, Olivia. How have you been?” He folded his arms across his chest and I followed suit. It couldn’t have been warmer than thirty degrees outside.

  “Busy,” I let out a breath. “How about you?”

  “Same,” he let out a chuckle. “I am only going to be here for a few more months and then I am moving to Gainesville.”

  “Our old college town?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Amalia told me once that Hayden and I went to the same college for undergrad. I still, to this day, couldn’t place him. Then again, I did party a lot in college.

  “So you’re definitely moving, then?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear my disappointment.

  “I am,” he pressed in lips in a straight line, shuffling his feet underneath him. “Did Amalia mention it to you?”

  I nodded. “She did. And I know things are weird between the two of you right now, but I also know she’s not happy with you moving a thousand miles away.”

  Hayden’s face looked tired as he offered me a defeated shrug. I figured if I was going to do something it was now or never.

  “She still cares about you,” I blurted out. “And she misses you.”

  Hayden gaped as soon as the words hit the cold winter air. He slowly nodded and said, “I am very happy to hear that she does.” His eyes looked a little glassy, but I assumed it was from the wind. “But she is in love with someone else. I have no right to make her feel guilty or to make her believe she should get me to change my mind and stay here. Even though I would.” He paused for a moment and then looked up again. “I would stay here if she asked me to. Even though I don’t want to live here anymore.”

  Hayden’s words broke my heart a little as they fell, crushed and hopeless, from him mouth.

  “Can you do something for me?” I took a deep breath. “I have no right to ask you to do anything, you hardly known me.”

  Hayden raised an eyebrow.

  “Could you try to see Amalia one last time before you move? Just for a quick cup of coffee, even?” I offered my friendliest smile.

  Hayden’s eyes dropped again as he considered this, but finally he answered.

  “I’ll reach out to her and see if she wants to meet up,” he shrugged.

  “Thank you, Hayden.” I glanced at the time on my phone and inhaled sharply.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked as I shoved my phone back into my purse.

  “I am just really late for class.” I turned around and started walking as fast as I could. “Thank you again!” I called back.

  Twenty-three – Amalia

  I just woke up to realize that it was Sunday morning and my weekend was nearly over. Michael and I had gone out to yet another fancy restaurant last night. The place was beautiful and the food was fantastic. But the restaurants were always dark and loud. We hardly had a chance to talk while we were out.

  I definitely wasn’t complaining about being taken out to dinner, I just was so tired from school work that I would have relished the opportunity for him and I to just stay in.

  Everyone in the city was always moving, even in the frigid month of February. And everyone I knew was more than ready to brag about which hot spot they went to the night before. I remember when going to Coney Island for a hot dog was a big deal. These days you had to be seen. Seen out at the right places, with the right people. Drinking the right drinks and wearing the right shoes. Over the last five or so years, the New York social scene had become not only exhausting but impracticable.

  I lay in bed with my eyes closed, wondering if Michael had ever stayed in on a Saturday night before and just ordered a pizza.

  Rolling on my side, I saw he was already awake and typing something on his phone.

  “Texting your other girlfriend?” I asked through a yawn. It was the first time I had referred to myself as his girlfriend. I wasn’t sure he noticed.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” he put his phone down on his night stand and then climbed on top of me.

  “Omph! I’ve only been awake for thirty seconds.” I repositioned myself so he wasn’t crushing me.

  “But you look so cute in the morning,” he chuckled.

  “I doubt that,” I let out a throaty reply. “I need some coffee.”

  “Amalia, you always need coffee.”

  I looked at him, relaxing my tense muscles as he brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes. His dark hair was definitely a mess, but I didn’t care. Before I could say another word, his soft lips touched mine. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tighter to him. I kissed him back slowly at first, unlocking all of his flavors. His hands ran down my back, pulling at my pajamas with a real feeling of urgency. As his hands cupped my face, I had completely forgotten why I was protesting this just a moment ago. He clearly wasn’t bothered by my lack of make-up, my frizzy curls, or even me not having brushed my teeth yet. I mustered up my energy and playfully pushed Michael on his back while I jumped on top of him. With one clean motion he easily yanked off my shirt and then moved on to pull off his. Laughing, I fell back down in the pile of sheets and blankets.

  I had a feeling my Sunday was going to be a lot more fun than expected.

  A few days later I walked up to Dr. Greenfield’s office, fully prepared to ask him for a letter of recommendation for the doctoral programs I was applying to. It was getting late in the year to send in your applications and if I didn’t have everything in by the end of March, no admission department would even see them.

  I curled my fingers into a small fist and gently knocked on his door. A second later the door swung back and I nearly fell over my feet. August was walking out just as I was walking in. And from the expression on his face, I could tell his meeting had not gone well. I opened my mouth to say hi to him, but he just pushed past me and darted for the elevator.

  “Come in, Miss Hastings,” Greenfield mumbled and I smoothed out a few wrinkles on my shirt.

  I cleared my throat and sat down on the small brown chair that faced his desk. His office hadn’t changed at all since the last time I had been in here. Still very bleak, lots of books, and one framed picture of a woman that I still couldn’t get a good look at.

  He began slowly pacing back and forth across the small room.

&
nbsp; “What can I do for you?” he asked in his southern drawl.

  Nervously, I held up the forms in my hand and gave him my friendliest smile. “I was hoping you would be able to write me a faculty letter of recommendation for the programs I am applying to for next fall.”

  He stared at me blankly, not taking the forms out of my hand. I lowered my eyes and carefully slid them onto his desk, hoping he didn’t take my hand off in the process.

  “And which programs would that be?” he stopped pacing and slid the forms toward him but still refusing to look at them.

  I tried my best to steady my voice. The last thing I wanted was to sound like I was babbling.

  “I am applying to Hunter College, the New School, the program here at NYU–”

  He put up a hand and I quickly stopped talking. Narrowing his eyes, he thumbed through the forms I had placed on his desk. I pressed my lips into a fine line as I waited for him to start speaking again.

  “Amalia,” he let out a sigh and lowered himself into his leather chair. “I have no problem writing you a letter of recommendation.”

  I could feel my mouth fall open as soon as those words were spoken.

  “So,” I nervously started picking at my shirt. “You’ll help me?”

  Dr. Greenfield leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and put his hands into the steeple position.

  “Let me ask you this question, miss. Why do you want to apply for a doctoral program here in New York?”

  The question caught me off guard because the answer was so simple.

  “The next step in finding a job in my field requires a doctorate,” I shrugged. “And I only applied to schools here in New York because–”

  “Because it’s safe?” Greenfield questioned.

  “I’m sorry,” I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t follow.”

  “Have you done much traveling within the States? Or Europe, perhaps?”

  “I’ve gone on a few family vacations when I was younger,” I could feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment. “But, no. To be honest I haven’t done much traveling.”

  “And what exactly do you want to do when you have completed all of your schooling?”

  I felt the weight of pressure on my chest as my mind tried to come up with an eloquent answer.

  “The truth of the matter is, sir, that I am not entirely sure at this point,” I nervously crossed and then uncrossed my legs. So much for trying to come off as calm and collected.

  “I see,” he muttered. “Well, I will certainly try my best to write you an acceptable letter of recommendation.”

  “Is that all?” I asked nervously. My eyes darted around the room until my gaze finally met his.

  “That’s all,” he nodded.

  I exhaled a little too loudly and made my way to the door.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” he called from behind me. “Think about what you want to do with your life past NYU. Because if there’s one thing you will learn from life, merely wanting something simply isn’t enough.”

  Twenty-four – Olivia

  At the first sign of nice weather, Amalia and I hauled ourselves downtown to walk all the river front in Battery Park. It was a very beautiful area in Manhattan. Mostly a tourist spot, the paved pathway along the river walk always offered a beautiful view. Park benches and a few waterfront restaurants made you forget you were in the city for a little while. It was a pleasant respite.

  Much more pleasant if I had a cigarette.

  We sat on the outside patio of a restaurant called Merchants River House, and slowly sipped white wine while waiting for our food to arrive.

  “I almost forgot,” Amalia put down her wine glass and folded her hands on the table. “I got Dr. Greenfield to write me a letter of recommendation.”

  “That’s great! When did this happen?”

  “A few weeks ago actually,” she took another sip of her wine. “Not worrying about him having to write that letter anymore has made me feel so much lighter. Believe it or not, for a few weeks there I completely forgot about having to plan my future. It was wonderful.”

  “That sounds like a nice break from reality,” I laughed.

  Amalia simply smiled and then turned her head towards the water. The wind kicked up a notch and I watched as her hair looped around her head. A moment later, the same thing happened to mine. It felt good to be outside. To feel a temperature higher than forty degrees. She stared out there just long enough to make me wonder what she was thinking.

  “While we are on the topic of things happening and us forgetting about them,” I said, bracing myself for her reaction, “I ran into Hayden about a month ago.

  Amalia’s eyes blue eyes focused on me as the color in her cheeks paled.

  “Why are you just telling me this now?” she asked in a flat tone. “I haven’t heard from him at all and you two have been talking?”

  I put up my hands in a gesture of peace. “We only talked the one time. I ran into him on 5th avenue while walking to class.”

  Amalia seemed to regain her composure. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened.

  “Amalia,” I broached the topic gently. “Why would you get so upset over the mere mention of Hayden? I mean, you did choose Michael over him.” I reached across the table and gave her small hand a squeeze. I didn’t want her to feel confronted. I wanted her to think about why she responded the way she did when it came to these men.

  She stared into space for a moment before taking a rather large sip of her wine. The waiter materialized, dropping off our food and extra napkins. Another few seconds passed before Amalia finally said something.

  Hey eyes reddened and cheeks puffed out, she let out three small words.

  “I don’t know.”

  The next week Alex and I went by the hotel we were having our nuptials at for a tasting. The amount of food was overwhelming. Essentially, we got to taste every single thing the chef could offer us. That included a chicken dish, a pork disk, a beef disk, and a fish. Not to mention the endless amounts of wine. There were four wines to choose from. What I didn’t notice was the server who kept coming around filling up our glasses. By the time we were finishing up dessert, I felt more than a little ill.

  When we got home I realized not only was I totally sauced, but Alex was too. After locking the front door, I took off my coat and scarf but didn’t stop there. I caught Alex’s eye and began to seductively unbutton my shirt. Only I was trashed and it looked more like a mental patient trying to get out of a strait jacket.

  “What are you doing?” he said, a slight slur in his voice.

  “What do you think I’m doing,” I replied with the world’s worst wink.

  Alex quickly peeled off his coat and gloves and a second later we were kissing. His hands were on my face and I struggled to reach his height. Standing on my toes, I teetered back and forth until Alex picked me up and moved me to the couch. Sitting upright, I reached for Alex’s shirt and tried to remove it in one swift tug. However his button-down got caught on his undershirt, causing him to flail back and forth on the couch. I reached to help but one of his arms accidentally hit me in the eye.

  “Alex,” I mumbled, covering my eye with the palm of my hand. “I think we should give up on this task.”

  Alex finally got both of his shirts off and held them in the air triumphantly. A wide smile spread across his cheeks until he saw my now-bruised eye.

  “What happened?” he slurred.

  I took a deep breath before saying, “you’re a drunk mess and you hit me in the eye.”

  “Oh no. I’m sorry! He scrambled to wrap his arms around me. “Here, come lie down with me.”

  I moved over on the couch and placed my head on his chest. The room was spinning around me and there was a definite possibility of me getting sick as any moment.

  “Baby,” I whispered. “I’m feeling really bad. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

  I looked at his face and saw that not only were his eyes closed, but he
was in a deep sleep.

  Twenty-Five – Amalia

  I stared at my computer screen as I tapped my right hand on the desk. I was fully prepared for this. I had decided that I was going to write Cassandra an email. I had it all mapped out in my head. I would ask, What made you change so much? Does our friendship mean nothing to you? Honestly, what is the matter with you?

  But now that I willing to write it, I was drawing a blank. Every time I began writing a sentence, I ended up deleting it. Some opening lines sounded too friendly while others were bitter and cold. I also couldn’t decide between addressing her as Cassandra or Cassie. The anxiety of reaching out to my once-best friend was overwhelming. Not to mention making me feel ridiculous.

  I shook my head and just began typing. I wrote how she hurt me last year by her constant absence. How it had been a year since Olivia’s engagement party, when she essentially refused to have a real conversation with me about how our friendship had strained. I wrote about how I saw her at the farmer’s market and she ignored me. But most of all, I asked her how she was. Was she completely fine without me in her life? Did she miss me at all?

  Before I had a chance to delete it, I hit send.

  I covered my face with my hands and gently rubbed my eyes. All I could do now was hope she would write back so I could finally get some answers. The ball was in her court.

  I pushed my chair back from my desk and glided to my bed. It was a lazy Sunday and I had no plans. Michael hadn’t asked me to hang out and I felt weird about asking him. Which made me wonder if that was normal. Things certainly hadn’t been that way with Nicholas. I never had to worry about asking him to get together out of fear I might be bothering him. But then again, Michael was different. He had all of the pressures of graduate school and I think that consumed most of his thoughts and energy. I leaned back on my bed until my head hit the pillow. I knew I was being selfish wanting to see him when he was most likely too engrossed in his work to do anything else, but I was busy too. I was in the same program as him and I had to do work-study on top of it.