According to Raoul, summer Friday afternoons can be busy with tourists. But today is kind of slow. I make sure all the clothing pieces are facing the same way on the hangers. I rearrange the shoe display so the highest heels are on the top risers. I daydream about Jude some more behind the counter, watching people outside trudge along in the sticky heat. Then I call my mom on my break at the pizza place across the street.
“Are you loving the new job?” she asks.
“You know I am. But I didn’t call to talk about me. How are you doing?”
“Taking it one day at a time. It’s good to spend more time with Grandma. She likes having me around.”
Mom tells me about the communal gardening they’re doing and the dinners they’re cooking and the movies they’re watching. Her voice sounds strong, but I know she is forcing herself to put on a brave face for me. Mom is moving past those awful conversations where I could hear her crying. She’s probably embarrassed that she was so exposed in front of me. Her life is completely different now, even more different than mine.
Last time we talked, I was asking Mom about her support system. I wanted to know what her friends have been doing to help her through this impossible time. After heavy prodding, she admitted that she hasn’t been invited to the social engagements she used to go to a few times a week. No more dinner parties. No more fund-raising events. The group of women she usually plays bridge with “forgot” to tell her who was hosting their next game. Women she thought were her friends won’t return her calls. They are treating Mom like her bad luck is contagious. Or as if they don’t believe she had nothing to do with the tax fraud. It’s like she’s being ostracized for what my father did. It’s so unfair. He cheats and breaks the law, but she’s the one who is paying the price. Meanwhile he’s living large in his extravagant new house with his new family.
One good thing about having your life turned upside down is you get to find out who your real friends are. Mom is devastated that women she has known for years are acting like she doesn’t exist. At least she can count on me and Grandma for support. Just like I know I can count on them. I’m lucky to also have Sadie and Rosanna in my life. If they showed me anything when they found out about my father, it’s that they will stick by me no matter what.
My break is almost over. I try to think of some comforting words that will convince Mom she has nothing to worry about. But how can she not worry? How will she be able to afford a new home? What will she do with her life? Does she want to get married again, or is she swearing off serious relationships like I did when summer started?
What if she ends up alone?
“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” Mom says. “I’m meeting some new friends for coffee.”
“You have new friends?”
“Exciting, right? I met three women who get together at this cute café in the neighborhood most weekday afternoons. They’re all full-time moms. Their kids are younger than you, but we have so much in common. They’ve been asking me for all sorts of advice. I love talking to them. It’s nice to feel useful outside of work.”
“Do they know about . . . ?”
“They know all about your father and they have been extremely kind. They don’t see me as damaged goods. They see me as someone with experience who can offer guidance. I’m so grateful I found them.”
“That’s awesome, Mom.”
“One of them even hired me to cater her husband’s birthday party. Grandma wants to help us with the cooking. It’s a big job.”
My mom is working it like a boss. Not only is she refusing to be a victim, she is rebuilding her life. She gets to start from scratch and design a new life that looks more like who she actually wants to be. Who she actually is. She can connect with new people who understand where she’s coming from. Even if they can’t relate directly to what she’s going through, good people will sympathize and help her find her way. Not like those plastic socialite wives who only wanted to know her when she had money.
Maybe this new life she’s building on her own will make her happier than her old life. Which would make total sense. How happy can you be if your life is a lie?
My mom doesn’t have to live a lie anymore. She set herself free.
CHAPTER 33
ROSANNA
TODAY WAS THE LAST DAY of camp. Saying goodbye to all my campers was hard. But I was choking back tears when I said goodbye to Momo. She made me promise to be pen pals with her so we will still know everything about each other next summer. I am already looking forward to next summer when I’ll be a counselor again and Momo will be back at camp. Frank said I could be a counselor to a group of nine-year-old girls, most of whom I had this summer. He didn’t say anything about Momo directly. But the way he said thank you before we left seemed like he was thanking me for more than just working here.
So I’m kind of in limbo. I have a free week before classes start. One week to get my books and supplies, figure out a running schedule I can realistically stick to, and plan my budget and meals. My goal is to do grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s every weekend. That way I can pack healthy lunches for the week every Sunday so I’m ready to go.
Now I have a whole weekend ahead of me to enjoy the magic of New York City. I’m buzzing with anticipation. The three of us are having a party on our roof this weekend. We invited everyone we know. Sadie and I are in charge of snacks. Darcy is on decorations. But tonight is all mine. Since it’s broiling out, I have decided this will be a night to stay in, keep cool, and clean my room. I put on a playlist starting with “Ziggy Stardust.” The shell that D found on the beach for me during our sunset walk in South Beach catches my eye. I stuck it on my windowsill when I got home. I pick up the shell, brushing my fingers over its smooth surface, tracing the light-pink lines against the white background. Then I put the shell away in the jewelry box Momo gave me. It is proudly displayed on my dresser, already filling up with fun jewelry Darcy has been helping me find on sale.
Next I take all my bags out of the closet and put them on my bed. I turn each of them over, emptying their contents of stray change, hair bands, pens, lip balm, Band-Aids, tissues, and various scraps. I unfold the paper scraps to make sure they are not important. One paper is folded into a tiny square. It was stashed so deep inside my bag it didn’t even fall out at first.
I unfold the tiny square of paper. It’s the ATM receipt from when I took money out on the way to my first date with D. The one that said I only had seventy-three cents left. In the whole world. My heart hammers with the same fear I felt looking at this receipt for the first time. I stare at the receipt as if it is telling my fortune. But the seventy-three cents incident is part of my past. Not my future. I have student loans coming in for tuition and a work-study job that will cover my housing and food. The concept of affording to live here for at least four years is still scary, but I am a lot less afraid than I was two months ago.
My first instinct is to crumple up the receipt and chuck it in the garbage. But I actually want to save it. This receipt will be a reminder of the strength I sometimes forget I have. I survived having only seventy-three cents in New York City. I did not give up, turn around, and go home. I kept moving forward, determined to succeed. And I did.
I hang the receipt on my bulletin board with a pushpin. My walls don’t have that much on them. I’m waiting to hear if we are staying before I put more up. My favorite thing on the wall was a print my grandma sent me for graduation. Now it’s the red balloon warm fuzzy Sadie made for me. I put it above my bed to match the RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER sign Sadie has above her bed. Darcy put her gold star warm fuzzy on her door like a dressing room.
My red balloon says GO CONFIDENTLY IN THE DIRECTION OF YOUR DREAMS. Sadie didn’t just select that quote for its dream big motivation. She knows I want to be more confident. I wonder if I seem any more confident than I did when we met at the beginning of the summer. I get that I still look like someone who fell off the hay truck from the Midwest. But I’m trying to project e
nough confidence to blend in with the real New Yorkers. Sometimes I feel like I am, like when I’m walking down the street with a surge of people, one of many in the crowd. Or when I’m standing in a long line at the post office, enduring with the natives. I can’t wait for the day when I completely feel at home here. Like I am finally a real New Yorker. I know that day is inevitable, because this is where I belong.
I want to build confidence in so many areas of my life. When I become confident, I will have confidence in my relationships, too. I used to think I was unworthy of D because I came from nothing. Because I am broken. But Dr. Ribisi pointed out that I didn’t come from nothing. I came from a good home with extremely hardworking parents who supported me as much as they could. That’s more than a lot of kids can say. When Dr. Ribisi said that, she helped me understand that I am worthy. I am capable of putting the broken pieces of my life back together.
I’ve also been thinking about why I was afraid to move forward physically with D. I think Dr. Ribisi was right about him not being the right person for me. I used to think that when you are with the right person, they don’t make you feel jealous or suspicious or unworthy. But that’s not really it. When you are ready to be with the right person, you don’t make yourself feel that way.
Turns out I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. Not when there was so much I was anxious about, so much that needed to be resolved. I won’t consider another serious relationship again until I have had enough therapy to work through the consequences of my sexual abuse, and work on accepting myself for who I am. I have to feel worthy of the kind of relationship I want before I can have it. So here I am. At the end of my past life and the beginning of my shiny new one.
On the verge of everything.
CHAPTER 34
SADIE
RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER . . .
. . . can be possibilities beyond your wildest dreams.
. . . can be discoveries you didn’t even know you were looking for.
. . . can be roommates who turn out to be your best friends.
The three of us had been waiting to hear from UNY Housing if we would get to stay in this apartment freshman year. The email came this morning:
Dear Sadie,
The University of New York is pleased to inform you that your request to retain your current summer housing assignment has been approved. The enclosed documents contain details of your extended housing agreement for the upcoming fall and spring semesters.
On behalf of the Department of Student Housing, welcome to your freshman year!
Darcy and Rosanna must have received the same email. Earlier this summer, we all requested to stay together.
The first thing I did when I read my email was bust out in a dorky happy dance in my room.
That was not nearly enough celebration.
I ran to Rosanna’s room. She was awake, but she hadn’t read her email yet. We both squealed and jumped around when she read it. Darcy wasn’t awake yet. We went to Waverly Diner for brunch to celebrate and figure out what snacks we’re making for our rooftop party tomorrow night.
There’s even more good news. Austin found an apartment. A renovated one without a bathtub in the kitchen. He’s moving on August 31. I’m going to Trey’s place to help him pack. I just came home after brunch so I could grab some clothes and things for tomorrow. I’ll probably spend the night there . . . but not like when Austin slept over here. Austin said he understood if I wanted to sleep on the couch. As crazy as that would have sounded a month ago and as hard as it’s going to be to stick to later tonight, it might be the smartest choice.
We have been talking a lot since Shirley’s crash stalking at the Slipper Room. I had an idea that we could start over. Take things slow. Get to know each other gradually instead of falling head over heels in love so fast I couldn’t see what was coming. We both want to be together for a long time. Maybe even forever. Which means our relationship has to have a solid foundation for us to build the future we want. So we’re taking the intensity down a notch. Just long enough to share the truth about who we were, who we are, and who we want to be.
I open my closet door. Taking an inventory of my smaller bags, I select the smallest bag that will fit everything I want to take with me tonight. Then some inspiration strikes. I snatch a black Sharpie from the glass of pens on my desk and inspect the walls of my closet. On the right wall close to the door I write: Sadie was here. Even though we’re staying here this year, I want to make sure a part of me stays here forever. Living here has been so much more than the escape I thought it would be. No matter how many apartments I end up renting, or maybe even buying, I will never forget my first. No matter how many divergent paths the three of us follow, or how much distance may come between us, I will always carry Darcy and Rosanna in my heart.
This summer was about loving ourselves. About becoming the girls we wanted to be for so long. When the summer began, we had no idea we would be helping each other work through the pain of everything we were running from. We did not expect to form a bond of sisterhood that just might last forever.
The essence of city love this summer wasn’t about boys. It was about the three of us.
CHAPTER 35
DARCY
SO THAT NIGHT JUDE CAME over when Logan showed up? The night he had something special planned?
He was going to take me to One World Observatory.
That’s why we’re here now. Jude still wanted to take me even after I blew it the first time.
We have already scoped out the full 360-degree views of the observation floor. Settling in at a window facing north so we can see almost all of Manhattan was the obvious choice.
“Remember when you said this would be a night I’d never forget?” I ask Jude as we’re looking out across our city, sparkling in the twilight. We’re pressed up against the glass with our arms touching, gold glitter city lights stretching out below us. Standing so close to him, watching the sky grow dark . . . it feels like we’re floating above the world.
Jude doesn’t look away from the view. “Yeah?”
“You were right.”
“Oh yes. I was.”
We watch the city come alive as night rolls in. My arm burns against his. What would he do if I tried to hold his hand? Would he let me? Or would he reiterate that we’re just friends?
Sadie always says how anything is possible in New York. Could it be possible that Jude still wants to be with me? Is it possible that he’s been missing me this whole time? And that tonight is his way of starting again? Imagining Jude wanting to be with me when we were apart reminds me of these song lyrics. They play in my head:
I’m here without you baby,
but you’re still with me in my dreams.
And tonight it’s only you and me.
Jude turns to look at me, his body still pressed against the glass. His arm still pressed against mine. Why wouldn’t he move his arm unless he wanted it there?
“What?” he says.
“What?”
“Why were you looking at me?”
“Was I?”
Jude seems like he’s going to say something else. Then he goes back to looking out across the city.
There is a chance we can have something real. I know it. But not until I tell him everything.
I clear my throat. “I guess . . . I wanted to tell you something. Something big.” My heart is pounding so hard I actually have to catch my breath.
“Okay . . .” Jude turns so his shoulder is leaning against the glass. I back up against a pillar we’re standing next to. Our extreme height above the world suddenly hits me. Maybe that’s why I feel dizzy.
The best way to say it is to just say it.
I take a deep breath. “My dad had an affair. And committed tax fraud. We have no money left. Now he’s living with the other woman and my mom had to move in with my grandma.”
Jude’s mouth falls open.
People cluster around us in waves as I tell Jude about the past few week
s. Tourists speaking different languages weave in and out of our conversation. Families pose their kids in front of the window for pictures. Couples show off their relationships with deep kisses.
I hate them as much as I want to be them.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” Jude asks.
“You had just let me back into your life. I didn’t want to push you away again with my insane family drama. Seeing your office and how successful you were . . . I felt even worse about how my life was turning out. I know it sounds horrible. I just wanted us to be like we were.”
Jude pushes off the glass. “You mean . . . when we were together?”
I nod. I can’t speak. If I speak and say too much and he doesn’t feel the same way, I will crumble into a million pieces of mortification.
Jude takes a step closer to me. We’re almost touching again. But this time he slips his hands around my waist, locking his eyes with mine.
“As you wish,” he says.
As you wish. Princess Bride speak for I love you.
I remember this. The magnetic pull he always had on me right before he kissed me. The sweet anticipation of the kiss was almost as good as the kiss itself.
This time is no different. Except when he kisses me this time, I remember my epic movie kiss fantasy. Me telling Jude how I feel. Him saying he feels the same way. Then kissing me in front of a huge window overlooking our city.
And now we are here.