Jill Knapp - What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan?

“Listen,” Olivia said, tenderly. “I brought you all of the work you missed during the past few lectures. I also put some hot tea on your nightstand; it’s my mother’s recipe and it always makes me feel better.

“Thank you,” I said, still crying.

Olivia let out a soft sigh. “I have to meet Alex, we are going to study for the exam on Monday. You should really come with us, you’ve missed a lot of work.”

“No,” was the only word I could muster up.

“Alright,” Olivia said as she rubbed my head through the blanket. “If you need anything at all, call me.”

The next thing I knew, it was Monday. I had spent an entire week crying in bed, I felt pathetic and more than a little nauseous. I pushed the comforter off my face, revealing a well-earned pillow crease, and rubbed my stinging eyes.

Through a blur, I looked over at the clock, 9a.m. I couldn’t stay in bed today; today I had a midterm. A midterm covering every minute detail of material we had covered in class starting from the first day. A midterm that I had not spent one minute studying for. Not taking a shower for three days really makes you appreciate one, even with my apartment’s insufficient water pressure. I walked out of the bathroom and almost collided with not Christina but Liz, my other roommate. Liz and Christina “shared” the master bedroom together, but Christina essentially had the entire room to herself, because since we all moved in at the end of August, Liz had spent exactly three nights sleeping here. She spent most of her time in Queens with her much older boyfriend Tim, who was an aspiring musician. Or maybe he was a painter.

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