Sarah Mlynowski - Monkey Business

The phone rings again. Maybe I won the Finance scholarship, too. Maybe I should stop dreaming.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Kimmy Nailer?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello, it’s Claire Moss returning your call from O’Donnel. Sorry for the phone tag we’ve been playing.”

My heart jumps to my throat. “Oh. No problem. Thanks for calling me back.”

“Do you have any concerns?” she asks.

Do I have any concerns? Yes, about a million. I’m concerned that I’m going to spend the rest of my life being someone I hate. I’m concerned that I won’t be tough enough to make it in the corporate world. I’m concerned no one will ever love me.

The thing is, I want this job. I want this life. I want to come back to LWBS next year. I want to be a TA. I want my own damn freshly squeezed orange juice. “I want to confirm that the starting date is June first,” I say quickly, before I can change my mind.

“Yes. And orientation is May thirty-first.”

“Looking forward to it,” I say. And I am.

My entire year is packed into two duffel bags. How sad. The walls look bare and small dust bunnies peek out from the corners of the closet. Gross. My hands are filthy and I smell like I forgot to use deodorant this morning. I’ve packed the clock, but my watch says it’s four-fifteen. Still a while to go.

Knock, knock.

“Hold on.” Maybe Layla is coming to say goodbye. I can’t wait to tell her about New York. She’s going to be so proud of me. I open the door and a lump instantaneously forms in my throat.

It’s Russ.

“Hey,” he says.

“I thought you were gone.” I look at the floor.

“Leaving now. Can I come in?”

I nod and hold the door open, still not meeting his gaze.

“How’d you find the exam?” he asks.

“Fine. You?” I lean against the empty desk that came with the room. I don’t think I can take much more of this small talk. The lump is threatening to expand and block my speaking capabilities, possibly choking me.

“I came to say goodbye,” he says softly. I continue staring at the floor, the disgusting dusty floor, and he touches my arm. “I needed to say goodbye.” His voice trembles, and I finally look up.

And then my eyes lock with the bluest eyes I have ever seen, and I fall headfirst into them all over again. His eyes are glistening, and he’s trying to blink away his tears. I wonder if I’ll ever lose myself in eyes like those again.

My cheeks are wet, but I don’t care. “Goodbye,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I know, I think but don’t say. Me, too.

He hugs me tightly, and I let his smell overwhelm my nose and throat. “You’re doing the right thing,” I whisper into his ear, and realize I mean it.

“Yeah?” He sounds relieved.

“Yeah.”

Would we have worked in the long run? I thought so, but I’m not sure. Eventually the Spider-Man soundtrack would have driven me crazy.

That and the fact that I didn’t trust him.

“Good luck,” he says.

I pull back. “Good luck to you.”

He kisses me on the cheek. “Be good.”

I laugh even though I can barely breathe. “You, too.”

He squeezes my hand and lets himself out. And I sit back on the bare mattress and cry.

4:30 p.m.

Kimmy rubs her eyes with the back of her hands, and I gently pull her hands away from her face. “Don’t do that, sweetie. Here’s a tissue.”

“Thank you,” she says through her hiccups. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Do you want some more tea?”

“No, thanks. I’m feeling better.” Kimmy looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks for letting me stay in your apartment this summer. Are you sure you don’t mind having me?”

“It makes perfect sense for you to stay in my place. Why should you spend money when my room is empty? My sister’s at her boyfriend’s all the time, anyway. And I just spoke to the Zoo and they keep the dorm open for summer students, and since I’m working only ten minutes away it makes more sense to stay right here.” I can’t believe I’m staying in this dorm longer than necessary. But there’s no point in moving when I’m working so close by. Hey, I just had a thought. Maybe I’ll be the only one on this floor. Wouldn’t that be great? I’d get the bathroom all to myself. I could even go streaking down the hallway, stark naked, if I want.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Layla,” she says. “You’ve been a true friend. And now it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“Don’t be silly, I don’t expect anything in return.”

“I know you don’t. And I also know you hate being told what to do and when you’re wrong. And you know I normally hold things back, and don’t say everything I think, but I want to tell you something.”

“Sounds ominous,” I say. “Okay, shoot.”

“You’re being an idiot about Jamie.”

“Now wait just a min-”

“No. You’ve taught me all year, and now it’s your turn to listen. Jamie loves you. And he’s an amazing man. He’s funny and sweet and smart, and he would be a wonderful boyfriend for you.”

“But he was unethical and he lied and-”

“Yeah, I know what he did. So he’s not perfect. No one is, Layla. No one will ever be. You’ve got to get over your obsession with perfection. No one can live up to it. News flash-you’re not perfect, either.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not deceitful.”

“Oh, really. Tell me something, did you ever tell Bradley where you first heard about him?”

My cheeks do a slow burn.

“Now listen up. You’re bossy and obsessive, and you know what? Your friends love you, anyway. He loves you, anyway. So he made a mistake. Learn from it, and move on.” She takes a long sip of her tea. “You know what I think? I think you use this obsession you have with perfection as an excuse not to get close to someone. If you have to have something wrong with you, the least you could do was get something a little more original.”

I pick up a pillow and throw it at her, and it hits her hand. And knocks over her tea. All over my bedspread.

“Aw, crap.” I’m about to sulk, when instead I think, Is it possible she’s right? I got freaked out by Brad, but terrified by Jamie. I do a mental recap of all my past relationships. Oh, my, she is right.

“You’re right,” I say, my heart racing. “About everything. Especially about Jamie. He is an amazing man. He’s generous and sweet and loving and hilarious and sensual. Sometimes I wish he’d stop joking and be serious, and other times he looks so sad, as if he’s carrying the weight of every sick child on his shoulders, and it breaks my heart. And he has a unibrow. And according to you, a small penis. But I like him.”

Wow. Did I just say that? I leap off the bed. “I have to fix this, now.”

Kimmy chokes on her tea. “Of course, only you would have an immediate epiphany and want to take action. You are the most spontaneous and passionate person I have ever met. But I think he might have already-”

“No time for thinking!” I spritz my Chanel No. 5 across my chest and sprint down the hall. I pound on his door. No one answers, so I open the door. The room is empty. Stark-naked empty. I can’t believe it. I’ve missed my chance.

“Maybe he’s still packing up his car,” Kimmy offers, standing next to me.

“You’re right!” I skip down the stairs to the garage.

“You’re not wearing any shoes!” Kimmy yells after me. “Or a coat!”

“It’s spring!” I yell back, and run to the garage. Is he there? Is he still here? Please let him still be here.