Up & Out - Ariella Papa [119]
“Hey,” I say, startling her when I get to the building. She jumps up a little and turns to me. She has sunglasses on and I wish I could see her eyes.
“Hi,” she says. She looks as antsy as I feel. “I was looking for my brother. Do you know if he’s home?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. I look at the door as if it knows the answer. “Did you try the bell?”
She nods. I know that there is something wrong with her, but I just don’t think she will tell me. I try, anyway.
“Are you all right?” She nods.
“Do you want to come upstairs and wait for him?” She shakes her head. Above her glasses I see her eyebrows knit a little. She sighs.
“You’re sure you’re all right? You can talk to me.” She doesn’t do anything, but then she shakes her head and takes a big breath. I know she doesn’t want to talk to me about whatever it is. I’m not even sure she would talk to Tommy.
“Do you want a hug?” I ask. It’s a last resort. Instead of shaking or nodding her head, she stands there still until I put my arms around her.
“Thanks,” she says, pulling away. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Sometimes we all need a hug. Did you have a rough night?”
“No, I should go.” She starts to get flustered.
“Wait, listen, let’s go over to Film Center Café and get a drink.”
I see her internally debate, and then she agrees and we walk over to Ninth Avenue to the café. She seems kind of shaky and nervous, but I’m happy to actually have her with me.
We order drinks and she barely touches hers. She doesn’t remove her sunglasses. I keep the conversation light—I basically babble about nothing—but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“I think I need to stop partying so much,” she says finally. I wait to let her finish. I could lay it out on the table and lecture her on sleeping with people’s exes and partying too much, but she looks defeated. “I think—I think I’m having trouble with all this.”
Her lip shakes a little. I feel myself starting to get emotional, too. She is in some kind of pain I just don’t get. More than knowing why and demanding an explanation, I just want to listen and be here.
“I, uh, don’t know these days what’s going on with me, you know. I can’t make heads or tails of anything I do.”
“I know how you feel,” I say. “Things get pretty confusing these days.”
“Yeah.” She studies one of her nails.
“You know, I read about this,” I say. “It’s called the quarter-life crisis. It’s not uncommon for women our age to feel this way.”
When she smirks at me I realize that I sound like I’m giving a lecture. “Oh, really, Rebecca, where did you read about this?”
I’m already laughing when I say, “The New York Times Sunday Styles section.” And she laughs, too. The kind of laugh you have when you are very close to crying, the kind of laugh you have when there is nothing else to do.
Nancy is over when I get up in the morning. She is wearing sneakers and running clothes. I was hoping to talk to Tommy about Beth. Nancy is bright and cheerful, as usual.
“What are you up to?” Her blond hair is pulled into a perfect ponytail. I push a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear.
“I was going to run in the Race for the Park. Are you?” I was certain Tommy had forgotten about the bet the night we went to Half King.
“Yeah, we are.” Are human voices really this high and chirpy? Tommy comes out of the bathroom. He looks very fit in his T-shirt and shorts. “Tom, isn’t it great? Rebecca is going to run the race, too.”
“I know,” he says, and smiles at me and points at Nancy. “She is totally forcing me to do it.”
He has forgotten. He is just doing it for her.
“Tom, don’t tease.” Clearly this is someone who spends too much time with toddlers.