Up & Out - Ariella Papa [4]
The other part of the reason I stayed with Tommy so long was that I loved him. And I still kind of do. As hard as it is to find an apartment in New York, for me it’s even harder to find a guy who gets me. Tommy got me. All my quirks and all my food addictions he enjoyed. He even managed to indulge me and talk about Esme like she was a real twelve-year-old.
But Tommy is also very immature. Dating an overgrown boy can be fun when you want to brainstorm about kids’ TV but difficult when you want him to stop planning his life around sporting events and video games and start spending quality time with you.
In the end Tommy and I agreed to be friends and I moved in with Lauryn, and now I was going to have to either find a new roommate or start the search again. Part of me can’t quite give up on Tommy and me getting back together. And as soon as we agreed to be just friends we started having the sex we had stopped having in our relationship. Something about not really being together made it better. Is that sick? We always said each time would be the last time, but did it again anyway. It’s as if neither of us can truly cut the cord. I still rely on him so much. I wish that moving back in with him wasn’t one of the first things that came to mind when Lauryn said she was moving to Massachusetts.
I also wish Beth could be as okay about our breakup as Tommy and I pretend to be. I know she is protective of her brother, but I care about him, too, and she would never understand that.
Ugh. I hate insomnia. It forces you to think about all the things you try to avoid during the day. I don’t want to put work into my relationships; I just want them to be normal.
I can’t do this. It’s almost 4:00 a.m. I need sleep. I will count sheep backward until it comes.
The radio is on. My favorite way to get up—listening to 1010 WINS. I can rely on them for weather and news and a slight (very slight) cynicism. No matter how loud I turn it up I always sleep right through it. It’s 9:35. Not too bad. Most people in the business roll in way after ten. But, I am trying to go in early and set an example for my team. I don’t want them to think that we can slack off now that the ratings are high. But at this rate, there is no way I am going to make it in early, much less take a shower.
I brush my teeth really quick, put my hair in a clip and pull on a comfy pair of jeans and a thin black sweater. There are dark circles under my eyes as usual, but I don’t have time to do anything about it.
On the way to the subway, I stop at a quilted truck (the stainless steel panels are quilted). I always make time for coffee. The guy in the cart has my coffee and change ready when I get up to him. I come here every day for a cup of coffee with lots of milk and sugar, which will usually sustain me for a good two hours (depending on whether or not I went out the night before).
People always complain about how expensive things are in this city, but coffee off the street proves it all wrong. Does any other city have coffee this good for a mere fifty cents? And, if it’s a really bad morning, I can throw in a buttered roll for fifty more cents. A steal.
I don’t get a seat on the subway. There is a bit of humidity in the air. The city is about to cross the line from the crisp coolness of spring to the smelly oppression of summer. In a matter of weeks everyone on this train can count on being stinky and disgusting and we’ll all just have to hold our noses and accept that it is summertime.
I stare up at an ad for the New York City Teaching Fellows. That’s the program where they pay for your master’s in education if you become a teacher in a tough inner-city school. The campaign is tight. Someone is obviously getting paid well to come up with these great inspiring slogans. This ad says, “You remember your first-grade teacher’s name. Who will remember yours?”
Mrs.