City Love(5)

Mental note: Take it easy. The last person I want to be is the girl who becomes all bitter and cynical and an emotionally stripped skeleton of her former self because of some boy. No boy will ever have that kind of power over me again. I need to leave that drama behind. This up in here is all about Summer Fun Darcy.

“No worries,” Sadie says. “We’re all adjusting. Meeting new roommates is awkward.”

“Especially when you act like a dumbass the second you arrive.” I propel myself off the couch. “Long way,” I tell Rosanna. “Definitely.”

My backpack is so overpacked it might spontaneously burst right here in apartment 4A. Unpacking will help ease my mortification. I can’t believe I got off on the wrong foot with Rosanna. That’s not me. Meeting new people is my thing. And here I thought being a sweaty mess was as gross as I was going to get today.

I’m declaring a state of emergency. Attitude adjustment starts now.

I topple my backpack over on the floor, unzip the long side zipper, and start unpacking. This will be a fun summer for all of us. These girls have no idea what they’re in for.





THREE

ROSANNA


DARCY ARRIVED WITH A BANG.

She whipped her tank top over her head when she walked in the door. She threw it on a communal chair. Does she intend to pick it up?

We do not know.

She could turn out to be one of those nightmare roommates I’ve heard about who tosses her stuff everywhere and expects you to deal with it. As in, if you don’t like living in a disaster area, you’re more than welcome to clean it up yourself. Darcy flopped on the couch with her feet up on the armrest. Her shoes were still on. Who puts their shoes on furniture? Doesn’t she care that the couch will get dirty? Then she bit my head off for no reason. Now she’s unpacking her bag right here on the couch instead of in her room where you’re supposed to unpack.

Fortunately Sadie and I have a few things in common. We both love New York City. We’re both dreamers. Although she’s a lot more optimistic than I am. It’s not that I’m a pessimist. More like a realist. You can’t help being cynical if you’ve experienced and witnessed a lot of crap. That’s why I’m going to be a social worker. I want to help make the world a better place. I don’t care how much money I make. Doing what I’m passionate about is all that matters.

Part of me is also an idealist. I expect the world to operate in ways a lot of people insist are impossible. I want an end to war. I want people to treat one another like human beings with equal rights. I want everyone to contribute to society in meaningful ways.

I want happy endings to always come true.

That said, I don’t expect to be served my own happy ending on a silver platter. Hard work and dedication are essential. I fully intend to earn the happy ending I deserve. Until that day arrives, I will carry happy ending hope in my heart.

Darcy thinks the kitchen table should go the long way. I’m not about to question her taste. First of all, she’s gorgeous without even trying. She has the kind of interesting blue-green eyes I’ve always wanted. Brown eyes are so boring. Her dark brown hair looks cute in a choppy cut that’s effortless but trendy. She’s shorter than me but taller than Sadie. Darcy is rocking a fitted cami that was under the flowy tank she whipped off when she came in, several trendy chains of various lengths and colors, cherry-red shorts, and platform flip-flops. Compared to the ancient tee I’ve been marginally getting away with for too many years and my fairly new but somehow already outdated maxi skirt. Just being in the same room with her is making me wish I could afford to overhaul my entire wardrobe. But that would be impossible.

Money is really tight back home. I’m the middle of five kids. My parents have been scraping by for as long as I can remember. They can’t afford to support me now that I’m out of the house. My mother wishes she could send all of her kids to college. She gets so sad that she can’t support us the way she originally planned that sometimes she breaks down and cries. But my older brother and sister are both managing on their own. They took out student loans and received federal financial aid. They work twenty hours a week on top of their full course schedules. I’ll be doing the same thing. I’m determined to make this work just like they are. I want to show my mom that it’s okay for her kids to make their own way in the world. She should be proud of dedicating her life to nonprofit outreach with Planned Parenthood. Just like my dad should be proud of teaching at-risk kids on the South Side.

I arrange the kitchen table the long way and push in the four chairs around it. This summer is going to be the most challenging time of my life. Just buying groceries will be nearly impossible to pull off. But I refuse to be defeated by circumstances I can’t control. So what if I have nothing saved? Living in New York City has been my big dream ever since I was little. Whenever I read books that took place here, I’d get this warm tingly feeling that this is where I was meant to be. And now I’m here.

Finding this summer housing deal was the only thing that made it possible to move here before the semester started. A day camp on the Lower East Side hired me as a counselor, thanks to the University of New York’s career planning center. Then UNY told me about apartment shares. My job will cover the rent this summer, but I won’t have much left over to pay for everything else. Despite this horrific realization, I refuse to be afraid. Figuring out how to pay for everything is a skill I’ve honed to perfection. I’m all about budgeting, sales, and coupons.