You'll Find Me in Manhattan Page 3

  “Because then you’ll tell Alex and he’ll know what his bride’s wedding gown looks like,” I raised my eyebrows.

  “That’s right, babe. Alex and I sit around gossiping about wedding gowns,” he smirked. “Actually tomorrow he and I have plans to sit down and really bang out the roses-versus-peonies debate.”

  I blinked a few a times before answering him. “Did you just call me babe?”

  “Penne Vodka?” the waitress plopped the bowl down in front of me, the sauce nearly spilling on my blouse. She carefully set Michael’s food down in front of him, once again grinning like a mental patient. This time I ignored her staring and dug straight into my pasta. She walked away, strutting just a bit. Michael didn’t look at her again.

  “Question,” I said to Michael, without looking up.

  “Answer,” he replied, while cutting his steak.

  “Will you be my date to their wedding?” I held my breath the moment the words escaped my lips.

  He looked up at me just as he was about to take a bite of his food. I sat for a moment, perfectly still as I awaited his response. It was kind of a hard question to answer, considering Olivia and Alex hadn’t even set a date yet.

  He offered me a small smile and said, “Sure.”

  I slowly let out my breath as he went back to eating.

  Four – Olivia

  Another summer came and went in New York City. I could swear they all felt the same. The weekends included walks in Central Park, iced lattes at cafés, and lots of people jogging down the waterfront in Battery Park. This summer was no different. While Amalia worked for Dr. Greenfield all summer long, I feverishly flipped through any wedding magazine I could get my hands on. I also spent a couple of weekends up in Rhode Island visiting my dad. The first time I arrived, he gleefully showed me the engagement announcement in the local newspaper that he had submitted on my behalf. He had copied a picture of Alex and myself from my Facebook page and submitted it along with a small description of us. It wasn’t the picture I would have chosen, but it got the job done. It was so sweet of my dad to do that. My mother, on the other hand, continued her reign of terror while trying to micromanage every detail of my wedding, for which I had yet to set a date. It was getting a little ridiculous, at this point, not having the date set, but Alex and I were so busy traveling back and forth to Rhode Island, and checking out doctoral programs to apply for, that we honestly hadn’t had the time to scope out any venues.

  Before I knew it, it was August and school was starting back. The best part of the summer was not having to work for Dr. Greenfield, but Monday morning that would all change. Monday marked the beginning of the end of graduate school. The first day of our final year. All of our doctoral program applications had to be in by February. It seemed a long time away, but I knew the time would fly by. Years seemed to be getting shorter with each passing birthday.

  By Thursday morning, I was already in a routine. I was sat at one of the laptops Dr. Greenfield had set up for us in a small computer lab. The room was bleak and depressing. As I worked with the analysis program on the computer that was already making my head spin just ten minutes into me working on it, I knew I had to make a good impression on Dr. Greenfield if I wanted a letter of recommendation to the doctoral programs I would be applying to. I checked the clock on the screen – nine forty-five. Amalia was already fifteen minutes late and I could tell it would easily turn into a theme with her. I rubbed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the work in front of me. With all of the wedding ideas bouncing around my head, concentrating on this work-study program was getting harder and harder to do. At the computer next to me sat August Marek, Dr. Greenfields little pet, with his head down and completely engrossed in the work in front of him. He was the final student picked for Dr. Greenfield’s study, and his grades completely put mine to shame. He had managed to get an A in nearly all of his classes his entire time at NYU, and his key-chain told me he went to Brown for undergrad. I knew we weren’t officially competing against each other, but being a woman already gave me a disadvantage just because there were so many women in the program. If he and I were going to apply for any of the same doctoral programs, the admissions office would choose him over me in a heartbeat.

  A moment later, Amalia came bursting through the door, her purse falling off her shoulder as the door shut loudly behind her. She was wearing her typical jeans and sneakers, but looked a little classier than usual with a cream-colored sweater with rhinestone details around the collar. She had a small, Coach purse on her right shoulder and a take-away cup of coffee in her left hand. Dr. Greenfield and I looked up at her disturbance. Unflappable, August never took his eyes off the computer screen. Amalia opened her mouth to speak, but I shot her a look and then motioned to the empty chair next to mine.

  “Miss Hastings,” Dr. Greenfield said in a tight voice. “What did I tell you over the summer about showing up late for work?” His facial expression was a frightening one. For a brief moment I wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a household with that kind of man for a father. So strict and unrelenting.

  “I’m really sorry, professor,” she scrambled to get to her seat and turn her computer on. “I was coming from midtown, and the R train was running late.” She placed the coffee down on the desk and I held my breath as I imagined her knocking it over. Thankfully she didn’t.

  Dr. Greenfield raised a hand, indicating her to stop speaking. “I’m not interested in your excuses. You either get here in time from here on out, or I will find someone else to take your position. Remember what I said last year? Don’t make me fire you.” He shook his head in disapproval. “We are as busy as a cat on a hot tin roof over here.”

  Amalia pursed her lips and August actually raised a puzzled eyebrow at Dr. Greenfield’s remark. It was like our professor spoke another language than us. Sometimes it was comical, but I was in no mood today.

  “It won’t happen again,” she muttered with wide eyes, and then immediately put her head down. She started fidgeting with her curls and I could tell she was embarrassed. I couldn’t blame her, the professor was definitely nothing if not intimidating. Especially with his stern, booming southern accent.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the hint of a smile tug at August’s lips. He knew he was Greenfield’s favorite. August had taken classes from him before and apparently always aced every exam. I was really starting to dislike this guy. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  Greenfield’s eyes followed Amalia as she slowly lowered herself into the chair next to mine. Dr. Greenfield shook his head and returned to his books. Amalia let out a soft sigh.

  “What are you working on?” she asked in a near-whisper, dropping her purse to the floor.

  “Analyzing the data we collected on Monday,” I replied. I touched my fingertips to my temple, feeling a dull headache coming on. “There’s a lot of it.”

  “Just tell me how I can help,” she offered me a weak smile. She looked past me for a moment. “Hey, August.”

  “Hey,” he replied, without looking up. He let out a soft, exasperated sigh and pushed his sleeves up.

  She rolled her eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. I reached over to the empty desk across from me and grabbed a bunch of files with last Friday’s date on them.

  “Here,” I handed them to her. “Start helping before you get fired and have to live on my and Alex’s couch for the rest of the year.”

  “Stop threatening me with homelessness,” she half-smiled. She flipped open the files and began to carefully type the data into the computer. “Speaking of you and Alex, are you going to move out of your apartment? Or is he going to move out of his?”

  “We haven’t decided yet, but clearly his building is a lot nicer than mine. I’d much rather live there. I will miss living in Brooklyn, though, Roosevelt Island is a much different change of scenery,” I offered in a near-whisper.

  “Well, I won’t miss you living in Brooklyn,�
� she gave me an over-the-top smile. “But back to you, I highly doubt he’d say no to you living with him. From the one time I was over there, it seemed to me like he really loved his place. Plus, guys hate moving.”

  “Everyone hates moving,” I let out a soft chuckle. “I just hope he doesn’t hate having to make room for all of my stuff!” I rubbed my temples, suddenly overwhelmed by the professor’s research project, my regular classes, moving, and planning a wedding all within a little over a year. I took a deep breath and shook my head. “But you’re right, I’ll talk to him about it after we book a venue for the wedding.” I suddenly felt a strong urge to change the subject. “Can you grab lunch later this week so I can hear about your first official date with Mr. Big, I mean Michael?”

  She nodded quickly, but then immediately turned the conversation back to me. “Have you narrowed it down at all?” she looked up from her screen.

  “Narrowed what down?” I asked, suddenly feeling warm. I pulled at the collar on my shirt for extra breathing room.

  Amalia shook her head in surprise. “Your venue, of course. As your maid of honor it’s my job to remind you that these places book up very far in advance, and it’s already the end of August!”

  August shot his head up and glared at us.

  “Not you,” Amalia waved him off. The month.”

  He grimaced and robotically returned to his work.

  Without missing a beat, she continued. “Have you thought about wanting your wedding in a hotel or maybe something outside of the city by a lake somewhere?” She looked up at the ceiling and then made a face at what I assumed was having to go to some random sleepy-town she had never heard of. She was never one for the outdoors. She turned her eyes back to me and plainly asked, “Do you even know what season you want to get married in?”

  Before I could respond, August lifted his head again and shot us a look, his dark-blue eyes flashing with annoyance. Even though his eyes were also blue, they were a big contrast to Amalia’s, which were always wide and youthful. August’s reminded me of a villain in a super-hero movie.

  Amalia met his gaze and held it. For a moment, it was if they were having some adolescent staring contest. I glanced back at the professor again, who wasn’t paying attention to us. I looked a little more closely at him and noticed his eyes were fixed on a wooden picture frame in the corner of his desk. I never noticed the frame before, but then again I had never really looked that hard at his desk. He must have felt my eyes fixed on him because he looked up and frowned.

  I cleared my throat and excused myself. Grabbing my cell phone, I headed out into the hallway and walked out of earshot. My mind spinning in a thousand different directions, I grabbed a seat on one of the small benches in the hall. Remembering Alex didn’t have class until later this afternoon, I hit the speed-dial and waited for him to pick up. He picked up on the second ring. I could hear the bustle of the city in the background.

  “Hey, babe,” I pushed out in a breathy voice. “Are you busy right now?”

  “Just got off the train to meet Michael for a cup of coffee, but I have a little bit before then. Is everything alright?”

  Everything most certainly was not alright, but where did I begin? I decided to start with something that Alex could actually help me with.

  “I am feeling overwhelmed with the wedding planning,” I confessed, feeling my shoulders sink.

  “What’s overwhelming about it?” he asked. “We haven’t even started yet.”

  “That’s why I’m overwhelmed,” I explained. “It’s getting kind of late in the game. I think this weekend we should start looking at venues, maybe we can start with a few downtown places like the Mondrian Hotel in SoHo and Bridgewaters in the South Street Seaport? And maybe we can finalize the decision of whether or not we want to wait until after graduation to get married?”

  “Absolutely, baby,” he said calmly, and I immediately felt better for having called him. “But unfortunately I think Bridgewaters may have closed.”

  “That was kind of my first choice,” I sighed. I pulled a piece of my brown hair up to my eyes and studied it. I had better get it cut now so I didn’t have to get another haircut before the wedding. “Okay, I’ll make a few calls and have some venues lined up for us this weekend.”

  “It is going to be okay, sweetheart. And just know this; I cannot wait to marry you.”

  As soon as he said that, I felt a warm rush throughout me. As stressful as it was, this wasn’t going to be like last year. I wasn’t going to freak out and push him away.

  “I can’t wait to marry you either,” I uttered. I felt a warm rush dance around my chest. “I love you. Thank you for talking to me.”

  Alex laughed. “You don’t ever have to thank me for talking to you!”

  I checked the clock on the wall and peeled myself off the bench. “I had better get in there before Dr. Greenfield fires me.”

  “He’s not going to fire you,” Alex replied in a sing-song tone. “But, yes, get back to work and I’ll see you tonight. You can tell me all about how the study is going.”

  “Do I have to?” I teased.

  “Bye, darling,” he laughed.

  I hung up the phone and smiled. Thank goodness for Alex. I made a mental note that after we’d picked a wedding venue, we really needed to sit down and decide which doctoral programs we’d be applying to. I let out another sigh and tucked my cell into my back pocket.

  As soon as I let go of it, my phone started vibrating. I grunted while quickly checking to see who it was. I had to look at the phone twice just to make sure I was reading it correctly. It was a text from my mother, who has never texted in her life.

  She wrote, “Olivia, we need to talk in person. Meet me at the King Cole Bar at six o’clock.”

  You have got to be kidding me. Why would I haul all of the way uptown just to talk to her when she’d been an absentee parent for years? Shaking my head, I took a few more steps closer to the computer lab. A moment later my phone buzzed again. This time, she had my full attention.

  “It’s important, Olivia. It’s about Alex.”

  Five – Amalia

  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 sc
hool, 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.