You'll Find Me in Manhattan Page 9

  I didn’t know what to say. I just stared at her.

  “Oh! And the best part is, Hayden tells me he is moving back to Florida because he got this amazing job offer with Ernst and Young,” she spat out. Her eyes were growing redder, but it didn’t look like she was going to cry, she looked angry.

  And possibly a little insane.

  She took a few more steps toward the entrance. “Everyone’s life is moving forward. Everyone’s except mine.”

  Before I could answer her, she muttered our names to the bouncer and he lifted up the rope and waved us in. I numbly followed her lead, shocked at the news she had just told me. What was she doing hanging out with Hayden after all she had gone through to be with Michael?

  A chorus of groans from the long line of people waiting to get into the club erupted as we stepped inside. The inside of the club was ominously dark and Halloween-themed. A cloud of white smoke surrounded our feet as Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” blasted through the speakers. I grabbed Amalia’s hand so we wouldn’t get separated. It was ten o’clock and the place was already packed. I felt a slight wave of anxiety. The music was incredibly loud, the strobe lights kept flickering from orange to white, and I couldn’t spot Alex anywhere. I turned to Amalia and shrugged my shoulders, unsure of what to do or where to go. She mouthed the word “bar” and I followed her over to the back of the club.

  Amalia held up a fist full of cash and magically got the swamped bartender’s attention. A tall lanky guy approached. His face was painted with white make-up and black contours on the bones. Around the eyes were bursts of color and what almost looked like a spider’s webbing.

  “What are you meant to be?” I called out to him as her poured Amalia a foamy plastic cup of beer.

  “Dia de los muertos,” he replied with a grin. Dia de los Muertos translated as “day of the dead” in Spanish.

  “Awesome!” I called back, nodding my head in approval. “Can I get a rum and diet coke?”

  He nodded and retrieved another plastic cup from underneath the bar.

  “Diet coke?” Amalia chuckled.

  “I’m trying to cut out soda altogether to make sure I fit into my dress.”

  “Fair enough,” she mumbled through a mouth full of beer.

  Amalia took a step to the side, smacking three party-goers with her wings. Just then I felt two warm hands wrap around my waist. I quickly turned around, half expecting some creep, but of course it was Alex.

  “Your Grace,” he joked, giving me a half bow.

  “Do you realize how much you owe me for wearing this stupid wig?” I pointed to my head. “My scalp feels like there’s a dead animal stuck to it.”

  “I know, my love,” he leaned down and offered me a kiss. Then he pressed his lips close to my ear and whispered, “I’ll let you pick the honeymoon destination.”

  I perked right up. “Are you serious? Wherever I want to go?”

  He held both hands up, as if to surrender. “Anywhere you want to go, we will go.”

  I jumped up, careful not to hit anyone around me and Alex caught me mid-air. I wrapped my legs around his waist and grabbed his face in my hands.

  “I fucken love you,” I said right before kissing his perfect lips.

  “I fucken love you too,” he laughed and gently lowered me back to the floor.

  “Where’s Michael?” Amalia called over the loud music. Her question was directed at Alex, not to me and broke us out of our love trance.

  “He’s here,” Alex scrunched his eyebrows. “He’s just grabbing a drink. I’m sure he’ll come find us.”

  Amalia scanned the room, taking large sips from her cup. My guess was she’d be drunk within the hour. She lowered her plastic cup and, with it, her jaw. I turned around to see what she was gaping at, and immediately spotted the problem. There was Michael, sans costume (he didn’t even bother dressing up) walking toward us with someone I immediately recognized.

  Long, dark hair, pink lipstick, chocolate-colored eyes, and strikingly beautiful.

  Angela.

  My eyes darted back and forth between Angela and Michael. They were standing close to each other, but the club was so crowded you didn’t really have a choice. Angela was dressed as a sexy tiger. There wasn’t very much to her costume. A black leotard, tights, striped animal ears, and a short tail pinned to her backside. Like Amalia, she too was wearing boots. The difference was Angela’s went up to her thighs and had a four-inch heel on them. I turned my gaze back on Amalia, who looked as if she had just been punched in the stomach.

  Michael finally saw her, and the two of them exchanged a long look. Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom, and then switched over to Angela, who was bopping her head to the music. Unaware of Amalia’s death stare. Michael tapped Angela to get her attention. She flipped her dark- brown hair in a flirtatious swoop, but her expression fell quickly as soon as she saw Amalia. Angela gave me a small smile and I gestured a mini wave, out of forced politeness, pressing my lips in a straight line. She and I hadn’t spoken since last year; she had just kind of fallen off everyone’s radar. Of course she held a huge torch for Michael, and for a bit last year it seemed like he did for her. In the end, she didn’t want anything serious and neither did he, so they stopped hooking up. But now here she was, in the flesh, ready to stir up some drama for Amalia, who, I noticed, just got a top-off from the bartender.

  Angela whispered something into Michael’s ear and then turned on her heel and trotted onto the dance floor. A moment later she was sandwiched in between two guys, both dressed like pirates. Michael made his way toward us through the sea of drunk twenty-somethings and stopped right in front of Amalia.

  “Hey,” he pulled her in for a weak hug. Alex gave my hand a light squeeze and I squeezed back. Being around Michael and Amalia made us feel closer to each other. Whatever problems we faced at least we were always on the same page emotionally.

  Michael gently let go of Amalia, who still hadn’t said a word, and reached over to give Alex a quick bro-hug. I cleared my throat and took a gulp of my drink.

  “Hey Michael,” I offered him a half-hearted smile.

  “I like your costume,” he said. “I see the two of you coordinated.”

  “It’s a couple’s thing,” I shot back, hoping the words would resonate with Michael and show him how little he regarded his and Amalia’s relationship. “I need to use the ladies’ room. Amalia, care to join me?”

  She nodded, her eyes fixed to the floor. I reached for her hand and led her through the crowd. Looking back, I saw Michael saying something to Alex, and Alex nod in agreement. My eyes then fell to Amalia. Her giant eyelashes were still holding up, but her blue eyes were red and glassy. She took another sip of her beer, and I could tell this would be one of her “black out” nights. I felt a wave of anger rush through me and realized I had been grinding my teeth. I genuinely hated the way Michael treated her. And a part of me was starting to resent her for letting herself constantly get pulled into this situation.

  As soon as we made it to the bathroom, I noticed there was a line of nearly ten girls we’d have to wait behind. Too annoyed to care, I pushed open the door that said “men”, and dragged Amalia inside with me. Locking the door, I took a deep breath and place my hands together under my chin as I gathered my thoughts on what exactly I was going to say to her.

  Amalia crouched over the sink, her hands clasped on both sides of the basin. Rocking back and forth, I could have sworn she was going to throw up. Instead, she lowered her face into her hands and burst into tears.

  I felt my shoulders sink and knew my lecture would have to be put on hold for another day. I watched her cry for a minute. Without a word, without any offerings, I just stood and watched my best friend come undone. She began to cry harder, her body shaking with each forceful sob. Amalia let out a long groan, followed by pushing herself up and feverishly banging on the door to one of the bathroom stalls. She kept hitting the flimsy door until her hands began to bruise, at which point she s
witched to kicking it with her boots.

  I didn’t know what to do. I wanted her to stop crying. I wanted her to stop freaking out. I wanted her to stop drinking all of the time, and I wanted her to stop dating Michael.

  I just wanted her to stop.

  I got it. She was upset, and rightfully so. Michael had ditched her for their museum date and, as far as I knew, this was the first time they were seeing each other outside of class in a couple of weeks. He still wouldn’t commit to a serious relationship, and it was already October. I couldn’t imagine being in her position. Being so madly in love with someone and having that love be pervasively unrequited. The confusion, the pain, the anxiety. I really did understand going through all of that for someone you loved. For someone you believed you were meant to be with.

  But this wasn’t love, at least not on Michael’s end. This was something wrong.

  This was exploitation.

  Finally, I darted over to Amalia and pinned her arms to her sides. She fought me a bit, still trying to break free and take her pain out on the door and walls. When she did calm down, her whole body relaxed. As she sobbed on my shoulder, I gently stroked her hair, coaxing her to calm down.

  And through all of this I made a mental note to ask her where she got those fake eyelashes, because those suckers really held up!

  “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. She remained silent. Her sobs had stopped and she was left with wet, black streaks of make-up staining her cheek bones. I shook my head and continued to soothe her the best I could.

  “You are stronger than this, Amalia, I promise,” I muttered softly. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  Fifteen – Amalia

  “Just keep in mind finals are in three weeks,” the TA for our class boomed out through a squeaky speaker. Feedback crackled through the antiquated sound system, and a few students flinched at the high-pitched noise. “I would suggest, as usual, to form a study group. Don’t let this one slip through the cracks.” As if any of us could forget for a single moment that the end of the semester was approaching. At least we had a couple of days off at the end of the month for Thanksgiving. He walked over to his laptop and dramatically shut the cover. “I hope you all found this review session helpful.” He raised his eyebrows and waved us off. The two-hour review session was finally over.

  The teacher’s assistants were the worst. They were always doctoral students who had a giant stick up their ass. It was as if they went out of our way to scare us instead of doing what they were meant to do, which was to help and guide us. Being chosen for the position of TA was another part of the work-study programs here at NYU. A much better opportunity than the endless data analysis and mental torture I had to endure with Dr. Greenfield. I let out a deep sigh and made small circles on my temples with the tips of my fingers.

  Michael sat to my right packing up his laptop in a new suede bag he had bought during a trip we took to Saks a few days ago. He had called me that Sunday morning, asking if I was free because he could use a “shopping buddy.” Of course, I dropped what I was doing (which was watching old Gossip Girl episodes in my pajamas at two in the afternoon) and hailed a cab up to 5th avenue from my apartment in Murray Hill.

  As I sat in the cab, I watched light snow flurries begin to fall over the city. Like a snow globe, everything looked so beautiful. That is, until all of this snow turns to slush. Dirty brown slush.

  When I arrived at the department store, Michael was already there mulling over a few button-down shirts in the men’s section. It had been a week since Halloween and this was the first time we had seen each other alone since then. I had seen him one time in between, in class, but school work was really piling up and we both had to concentrate hard on the lecture. There was no time to chat.

  I ran my fingers through my curls, fluffing them up a bit to give them more of a bounce before we saw me. Coaxing the frizz into something manageable. My hair felt ice cold from the brutal temperatures and the snow. Even though it was only November, and technically still autumn, the temperature was still freezing. I closed my eyes and pictured Hayden in Florida. I wasn’t sure when he was moving, but I was sure that I was envious of the warm, tropical sunshine he would be greeted with when he got there.

  I took another step inside the well-lit store. Even from behind, I found Michael attractive. He stood perfectly straight, shoulders square, always an air of refinement about him. Wearing a dark- gray wool coat with midnight-blue-colored jeans, he pulled it off flawlessly as he ran his fingers over a cashmere sweater. I immediately regretted my choice in attire, a clunky purple sweater from H&M with a fake-leather jacket that fell right at my hips. As I looked around the store, I noticed most of the patrons were well-dressed. Women in dresses, even though it was freezing outside. Men in pea-coats or suits. Even the children were polished – in designer clothes. There were security guards at the doors decked out in three-piece suits in front of each entrance. It would never have occurred to me to get dressed up to go shopping, but I never would have guessed I’d be dating a guy like Michael.

  I grabbed my compact mirror from my purse and applied a fresh coat of lip-gloss. An effort to look more presentable instead of like the chick that was going to try and nick something from the cosmetics department. Holding my head up, I crossed past two giggling teenage girls, who looked as if they had their own personal stylist, and tapped Michael on the shoulder. He greeted me warmly with a soft kiss. Instantly, I felt the sweet fuzzy feeling of desire splash around my heart, as if it was coursing its way through my emotionally starved body.

  When he pulled away my body ached for more. I always ached for more. When it came to Michael, I’d never be sated

  “Hi, beautiful,” he purred in my ear. I closed my eyes and felt my shoulders relax. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Of course,” I smiled. I was too grateful to be spending time with him to bring up what happened on Halloween.

  After I had finished melting down in the bathroom that night, Olivia and I hailed a cab back to my apartment. She stayed the whole night to make sure I was okay, taking residence on my couch. She really was a wonderful friend. Her mothering affection gave me the inspiration to start planning her bridal shower. I thought it would be a good idea to have it during winter break. We’d all be too busy next semester, with graduation coming up, to be able to plan something. I was aiming for a day or two before New Year’s Eve.

  The slam of someone dropping their textbook on the floor knocked me out of my day-dream. Suddenly remembering I was still sitting in the classroom, not sorting through dress shirts.

  “You okay?” Michael asked. He was standing over me, with a puzzled expression.

  “Um, yeah,” I scrambled to get my things together. “I have a couple of hours to kill. Do you want to get a cup of coffee?”

  Michael reached out for my hand and pressed it to his lips. I looked around and noticed everyone else had cleared out. Of course he wouldn’t do something like that in front of others.

  “I’m not sure I have the time,” he frowned, as he let go of my hand to check his watch. “I want to spend as much time as I can studying for this exam.” He gave me a half-smile.

  “We can study together,” I offered quickly. “Forget the coffee. Come back to my apartment and we’ll have a study date like we used to do.”

  “I won’t be able to concentrate,” he leaned in close enough for me to smell his skin. Sandalwood, honey, and some other blend of intoxicating aromas. For a moment I closed my eyes, and I felt like the world had disappeared around me. I was so in love with him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “Michael,” I whispered, his mouth inches from mine.

  “Yes?” he breathed.

  I kept my eyes closed as I let the words fall out of my mouth.

  “I am so in love with you,” I breathed.

  I waited a beat and then opened my eyes to see that his were fixed on mine. He looked tired. He always looked tired. Like he had been born with less time to t
hink than the rest of us, but with double the thoughts.

  “Amalia,” he said in a soft, low voice. “Are you sure?”

  Surprised by his response, I answered as quickly as the words formed in my head.

  “Of course I’m sure,” I kept my gaze on him. His face paled, but I didn’t turn away. I was studying him. Studying his eyes, his hair, his lips. Taking it all in, wanting this moment to freeze.

  And for a moment there, I really believed he’d say it back. But, as always in my life, belief had inevitably set me up for disappointment. In reality, he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew. I knew everything I felt for him, the love, the desire, and the desperation. I knew it was unrequited. And in that moment I let myself accept it. I genuinely accepted that I would love Michael, with all of my heart, but that he would never fully love me back. For a few precious moments, it didn’t matter to me whether he loved me or not. All that mattered was that he was in my life. That I could share my life with his. That I could tie myself to him.

  But you don’t get to make that decision on your own. There’s another part of the equation that has more say in whether you can stay in love. The other person. And in this case, Michael broke me out of my fantastical bubble.

  My naive enchantment.

  My self-less delusion.

  “I’m not in love with you,” he muttered.

  As fast as my words had fallen out of my mouth and had lasted for a mere quarter of a second, his seemed to go on for a lifetime. Still staring into each other’s eyes, I began to feel mine swell up. He placed his hand on top of mine and offered me as much solace as he could.

  “But that doesn’t mean I won’t, or that I can’t, be in love with you someday,” his words sounding empty. “I mean, hell, we aren’t even in a committed relationship yet.”

  “Why not?” I asked softly. I blinked back my tears and took a large gulp of air to help support my speech. “What are you waiting for?” I shrugged lightly.