You'll Find Me in Manhattan Read online

  “Fair enough,” I shrugged. “I mean, all of the programs I applied to are here in New York too.” At this point, I was beginning to wonder if a doctoral program was the right choice for me. I figured it was just normal jitters of knowing I would be in school for at least five more years. I kept a smile plastered to my face as I continued to push my food around in my bowl. “I think what I mean is, after school is over. Do you ever see yourself moving to an area a little less urban?”

  Michael just shook his head.

  “Why not?” I asked, my worry growing with each reply.

  “I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” he replied simply. “And honestly, I don’t want to live anywhere else. This is my home.”

  “What about when you get married and have a family. Would you want to raise your children in the city?”

  Michael put down his fork and looked up at me. He let out a sound that sounded like an exasperated sigh mixed with pity, and a slightly confused look crept onto his face. His lips pulled into a straight line and he looked as if he was choosing his words very carefully before speaking.

  “I don’t want kids,” he formed each word slowly, with a sympathetic look on his face. A look that read, I know you might want kids, but I will never want kids. So if we stay together that’s something you’ll have to give up.

  “Oh?” I said, but it came out more like a question. I was hoping he would explain his decision, but he just gave me another short smile and took a sip of his wine. I tried to hide the disappointment on my face. The truth was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids either, but I was only twenty-four. I considered myself too young to know if I wanted them. In all seriousness, I hadn’t had a free moment in the past two years to even think about having children. I did know one thing for certain, though. When the time was right, I wanted to get married. And I was sure that “want” would never go away.

  “I guess we’re really too young to be thinking about that stuff anyway,” I conceded. Another crack of thunder followed by a laser light show of lightning filled the apartment. I jumped an inch in my chair and exhaled loudly. Michael seemed utterly unaffected by both the storm and our conversation.

  “How do you like your dinner?” he looked up at me and smiled tightly. Obviously attempting to change the subject.

  “It’s honestly delicious, baby,” I smiled back. I felt a weird vibe coming off him. Did he think I was unhappy with the food? I dabbed my mouth with the napkin and then folded my hands in my lap. “Thank you for cooking dinner.”

  “Someone has to,” he mumbled. He reached for his drink and took a long sip.

  I was taken aback by his comment. Stunned, I sat there as still as a statue. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. His face remained neutral.

  “Well, I just want you to know that I appreciate it.” I tried to smooth it over. Michael just nodded and continued to eat in silence, his eyes fixed on his bowl.

  I looked around Michael’s pristine apartment. In the two years I had known him, the place hadn’t changed a bit. Copper-toned pots and pans still hung elegantly from the ceiling in the kitchen as if they hadn’t been touched since the first time I came over a few years ago. The small bistro table we were eating on hadn’t moved an inch. Even the toothpaste in the bathroom was the same brand that it had always been. Michael was definitely a creature of habit, whereas I had already moved twice since graduating college. After spending high school in my hometown in Staten Island I went to college at Rutgers in New Jersey, and then moved here to Manhattan. I even moved to a new apartment after my first year here. Michael went to college here in Manhattan at Columbia, and then came downtown a bit to attend graduate school at NYU. I never asked him how long he had been living in this apartment, but it I realized it was probably somewhere around six years.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, breaking me out of my daze.

  I looked up at him, slowly taking it all in. He was so gorgeous. His brown eyes were soft with concern and his arm was stretched over the table so he could reach my hand. I felt my heart beat a little harder as we maintained eye contact.

  I was so in love with him. The sheer force of it all consumed every ounce of me.

  Sometimes it felt like a burden.

  With a sheepish smile, I nodded, feeling myself bite on my bottom lip. Something I recently noticed I did when I got turned on. Which was essentially all of the time when I was with him.

  Clearing my throat, I composed myself, running my fingers through my curls for a moment. I had a weird, anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. I struggled for conversation, resolving not to come off as boring.

  “Oh! I have an idea,” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “How about next Saturday you and I go to the Guggenheim Museum with Olivia and Alex. It could be a double date.”

  “Um, sure,” he answered quickly, wiping his hands with his napkin. “I have some studying I have to do in the morning, so we would just have to go in the afternoon.”

  “I’m sure Olivia won’t mind,” I said quickly, trying to hide my huge grin. Our first double date. Things were definitely moving in the right direction. Maybe the anxiety was for nothing after all. Maybe if Michael saw how happy Olivia and Alex were, he’d want to finally be in a serious relationship with me. “I think it’s going to be a good time.”

  Michel took the last bite of his food. I looked down and realized I had hardly eaten any of it. I wasn’t that hungry, though. I took another sip of my wine and a final bite of my food. I stood up to clear the dishes, but Michael, as usual, stopped me.

  “Amalia, you’re in my home. You don’t have to clean up.”

  “Maybe next weekend you can sleep at my apartment,” I blurted out. “You know, after the museum.”

  Michel stopped in his tracks, his back still to me, and then slowly began to rinse out the bowls in the sink. “I’ll let you know. I really have so much work to get done and it would take me over half an hour to get back here from your apartment Sunday morning. But we’ll see how much I get done Saturday.”

  “Oh, alright,” I mumbled in a near-whisper. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Michael had never been to my new apartment before. The only time he had ever come to see me was last year to try and stop me from going to Brazil. At that point I was still living in the West Village.

  I looked out the window. The rain looked like it was finally clearing up a bit, but it still looked gloomy and gray outside. Through the fog and the rain, the view of midtown Manhattan from Michael’s window looked almost like a dystopian future. Colorless, cold, and uncertain. I shivered, looking for a blanket. I made my way over to the couch and pulled my knees up to my chest.

  “Baby, I’m cold. Could I have a cup of tea?”

  He finished loading the dishwasher and crossed over to me, putting his arm around my waist once he sat down.

  “I have a better idea,” he whispered, his voice low and velvety. His ardent tone gave me chills.

  He lifted the tip of my chin up with his finger and ran his thumb softly over my lips right before leaning in to push his warm, pillowy lips into mine. My lips parted and he ran his tongue along the inside of my mouth, softly at first but then with more urgency. This was how most of our kisses were. Hard and fast. He pulled on my legs and before I knew it I was flat on my back. His hands were on my face, then on my breasts, on my legs, and then pulling at my jeans. I took the hint and removed my pants myself as he tugged on my sweater. As soon as my clothes were off, we went right back to kissing. We couldn’t get enough of each other. It was like Michael was my drug, and each time we had sex I wanted more and more. As he started to kiss my neck, I immediately began unbuttoning his shirt. As soon as I removed it, I let out a soft moan in response to his perfectly toned arms and stomach. When did the guy ever have time to work out? A second later, he picked me up and carried me to his bedroom. I crawled on top of him and pulled off his pants.

  For a split second, he he
ld my gaze. He kissed me softly and then gently ran his fingertips down my face. I felt something I hadn’t felt before with him; an overwhelming feeling of wanting to say I love you. I thought about saying it, but didn’t. I didn’t want to be the first one to say it. So, instead, I reached over him and grabbed a condom out of his nightstand. Even though I was on the pill, Michael wasn’t my boyfriend, and I wasn’t taking any chances that anything could go wrong. I raised my eyebrows and his eyes darkened as his pupils dilated from anticipation. I climbed back on top of him, reached over to the nightstand one last time, and turned off the light.

  Ten- Olivia

  “I haven’t been to this museum in years,” Alex said, tightly holding onto the railing on the train. The uptown line was crowded as all hell, and Alex held my waist tightly as a group of children with their parents kept bumping into me. I wasn’t exactly a “kid” person, something I realized Alex and I would have to talk about before we got married. Oddly enough, I wasn’t sure how many, or if he even wanted children of his own. There just never seemed like there was an opportunity to talk about it.

  This weekend, like all weekends, had been absolutely hellacious for getting around the city. Alex and I had gone to Morandi for brunch down in the Village, and we were stopped every two minutes on our walk there by tourists asking for directions to Bleeker Street. There was no avoiding it, on the weekends any mode of transportation you chose meant having to deal with copious crowds of tourists.

  “Should be fun,” I said, shooting the mother of one of the rowdy little boys a little side-eye. She grimaced and then went back to talking to her friend. The train was so crowded I was beginning to feel dizzy.

  “You sound very convinced,” he lowered his eyes down to me and smirked.

  “A double date with Amalia and Michael?” I scoffed, with a sarcastic flair to my voice. I could tell the crowd was making me irritable. “I mean, come on, this isn’t the Brady Bunch. Ten bucks says he doesn’t even show up.”

  “Come on, Olivia. Now why would you say something like that?” Alex gave me a quick squeeze. “It sounds to me like you don’t want Amalia and Michael dating.”

  The train stopped and after having ridden it all the way from Union Square, we finally were able to get off. I breathed a sigh of relief as the conductor called out our stop over the speaker. We left the crowded subway car for the crowded streets of the upper east side of Manhattan. As soon as we reached the top of the subway terminal and got onto the street, I could smell the pretzels and warm nuts being sold on every other street corner. The cold wind swirled around us and I quickly retrieved my gloves from my coat pocket.

  “Because I just don’t see them as a couple,” I shrugged, leading us toward the museum. “Which, to be frank, they aren’t. How long have they been doing this back-and-forth dance now? As far as I know, he hasn’t told her he wants to be exclusive, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that day never comes.” I knew I was bordering on rambling, but I felt very over-protective of Amalia. After seeing her get her heart broken so badly by Nicholas, I couldn’t bear the idea of my best friend going through a similar situation. “I know Michael is your friend, so please don’t repeat this, but I honestly feel like she should have chosen Hayden over Michael. They seemed much happier together. She seemed much happier”

  Alex nodded, seemingly unaffected by my rant. He reached for my hand and asked, “Do you ever think you should have chosen someone else over me?”

  The question caught me so off guard that I couldn’t help but laugh. “If only you could see inside my head, you’d never have to ask me that question again.”

  But would you choose someone else over me?

  I stopped walking for a minute and stood on my toes to offer him a kiss. “There’s no one I would choose over you, darling.” Alex was at least five inches taller than me, towering over me whenever I wasn’t wearing heels. Which was most times.

  He kissed me back, and then kissed my hand. Even with my gloves on, I still loved when he kissed my hand. Although it was about forty-five degrees on this chilly October day, the wind in the city made it feel more like thirty-five. But I felt safe and warm with my loving fiancé by my side. We walked a few more chilly blocks until we reached the entrance to the Guggenheim Museum. Amalia was already waiting outside, craning her neck to look around. I checked my watch; Alex and I were right on time.

  “Hey!” I called out to her. She smiled broadly and waved at us. We crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a group of teenage boys on skateboards.

  “How’s it going, Hastings?” Alex asked, actually leaning over to give her a small hug.

  Amalia made a weird face, but accepted Alex’s hug, her tiny frame disappearing next to him.

  “Um, dude. Did you really just hug me?” she asked with a suspicious tone.

  “It surprised me too,” he shrugged.

  “So, is Michael here yet?” I asked, looking around the crowd of tourists and families.

  Amalia rubbed her gloveless hands together in an effort to generate some heat. I noticed her nails were freshly painted. Her hair was straightened, which was rare for her. Usually she kept her blonde locks in their natural curly state. Her make-up was a little heavier than usual, and a bit inappropriate for three o’clock in the afternoon. Anyone who knew her could tell she was trying to look good. Trying hard. I felt the excitement come off her in waves as she held a wide smile, which was shining with bright red lip-gloss.

  “He should be here any minute, she practically sang. “I’m so glad you could come, I am sure you’re so busy planning the wedding!”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but luckily Alex cut me off.

  “It’s coming along,” Alex answered for us. “It’s good to get out of the apartment.” I was grateful. I knew Amalia wouldn’t ask him a ton of questions, and I wasn’t one of those brides who constantly wanted to talk about their wedding plans. Planning was stressful enough without having to talk about them all of the time.

  A few more minutes of small talk went by, the whole time Amalia kept the smile frozen to her face. I looked around the street one more time, and had the sinking feeling that the sarcastic bet I made with Alex on the subway was taking fruition. Michael wasn’t just running late. He wasn’t coming. A beat later, Amalia’s cell began to ring. She retrieved it from her back pocket and told us it was a text message from Michael. As soon as she began reading it, her entire face dropped. She pursed her lips and then slid the cell back into her pocket. Her eyes looked glassy and I silently willed her not to start crying. She had on way too much make-up to start any amount of water works.

  Alex and I exchanged a glance, and for a moment he looked as if he genuinely felt sorry for her.

  “Are you okay?” I muttered, already knowing the answer to the question.

  “He, um-” she began to stammer. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “He can’t make it. Something about having too much work to get done and apologizes to the two of you for his absence.”

  “The amount of work we get can definitely cut into our social lives,” Alex offered an explanation. I shot him a look. Even though he was probably just trying to be helpful, I could tell that was the last thing Amalia wanted to hear right now.

  I expected her to come back at him with a snappy comment, but she didn’t. She just looked at the floor, concentrating on a piece of gum that had most likely been stuck there since Giuliani was mayor.

  “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it,” I said, with a little too much pity in my voice. “But I promise we can still have fun, just the three of us.” I looked at Alex to make sure he was okay with that plan. He nodded in agreement.

  “No, I don’t think I’m going to go in,” she shook her head. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of fuzzy ear muffs. She ran her fingers over the faux fur as she continued to fight back tears. Her eyes were red from both the cold and the emotion.

  I felt horrible for her.

  She shuffled her feet a bit and crossed her arms
in front of her chest. “The two of you should go and have a good day, but I am just going to head home.”

  “Are you sure?” Alex asked. My eyes widened at the sound of his voice. He must really have felt bad for Amalia if he was being this nice to her. She probably realized that, because as soon as he finished talking, she let out a drawn-out sigh.

  “I’m sure,” she put on her ear muffs. “I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

  Without another word, she scuttled over to the street corner and managed to get a cab right away.

  I turned to Alex. “I’m such a bitch,” I rubbed my forehead.

  “What?”

  “What I said on the subway. How he probably wouldn’t even show up. I never should have said that.”

  “It’s not as if you saying that changed the course of the universe and made him decide not to come, Olivia.”

  “I don’t know what to do with her,” I said, surprised at my own words. “Michael is a good guy, but he’s not good to Amalia.” I stopped walking and faced Alex. “Do you think I should sit her down and try to explain this to her?”

  He pressed his lips into a straight line. “If she’s in love with him, there is nothing you or anyone else can say that will make her leave him. It’s something she has to feel for herself.”

  I nodded, knowing deep down that he was right. “So what should we do now? Do you want to go inside?”

  “Not really,” he answered.

  “Me neither.”

  We paused for a moment, both knowing we had to think of something else to d d

  o. We had come in all of the way from Roosevelt Island to hang out with them.

  Alex reached for my hand. “Let’s just grab a cup of coffee somewhere and talk.”

  “That sounds nice,” I agreed. “Under one condition.”

  “What’s that?” we started walking away from the museum.

  “That we don’t talk about anything stressful for one whole hour.”

  I took a deep breath, feeling the cold air constrict my throat. “Sold.”