“Maybe,” Mary said. She fil ed the whole page with yel ow smudges and Isabel a was jealous of her. She didn’t want to go to law school, but Mary had purpose and assignments and for that Isabel a envied her. Al Isabel a had was two bosses who just wanted muffins. And sometimes jel y.
Their friends from col ege, Kristi and Abby, lived in the same building as they did. Kristi was the one who’d recommended it to them. “You have to live in a doorman building,” she’d said to Isabel a, as though it was something everyone already knew. “It’s not safe otherwise.” Sometimes Isabel a went out with them, but they exhausted her. Kristi and Abby always wanted to get dressed up and go out for sushi or go to a party where you had to have your name on a list to get in. They both worked in PR and al they talked about was events and RSVPs, which Kristi pronounced “Risvips” for some reason. “I can get you on the list,” Kristi would often say to Isabel a. Isabel a didn’t want a list. She just wanted to get a drink.
Sometimes, if she was lucky, Isabel a could convince Mary to go out. They usual y just went to Gamekeepers, the bar right down the street.
“Come on,” Isabel a would say. “It’s so close! We can be there in two minutes and have a drink and be home in an hour.” She always hoped, of course, that once they got there Mary would stay out later, but getting her out was the first step.
Gamekeepers was a brightly lit bar, with neon signs on the wal s and a black-and-white tiled floor. In the back room, there was a whole wal of bookshelves crammed ful of every board game ever made. The first night that Isabel a and Mary went there, they stood in front of the wal and stared at al of the games. The bar had al of the big hits—Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly—and some older games too, like Operation, Boggle, Life, and Sorry!
“Whoa,” Mary said, as they stared at the shelves. “This is crazy.” Al around them, people were playing games on long wooden tables, rol ing dice and slapping cards.
“Oh my God,” Isabel a said. She pul ed a box off the shelf. “Look, they have Pig Mania. I can’t believe it.”
“What is that?” Mary asked. She looked at the box.
“It’s this game, from the seventies, I think. You rol pig dice and get scores for different things.”
“Weird,” Mary said.
“The seventies were weird,” Isabel a said. “Come on, let’s play.”
They rol ed the pigs, but Isabel a could tel that Mary wasn’t into it. Two guys came over to join them, which was encouraging at first, but then they started snorting and squealing when the pigs rol ed into any position that looked dirty. “I got Makin’ Bacon!” Isabel a screamed, and they just snorted louder. One of them was so drunk that he kept swaying and bumping into the table, causing their drinks to spil and the pigs to topple.
“I think we should go,” Mary said. She stared at one of the snorters. “I have to get up early to study anyway.”
“Fine,” Isabel a said. She surrendered the pigs to the boys so that they could rol them alone.
“You’re leaving?” the drunk one said. He closed his eyes and Isabel a wondered if he had fal en asleep, and then he opened them and repeated his question. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah,” Isabel a said. Mary was waiting for her by the door. “I have a lot of things to do tomorrow,” she said. “Just a real y busy day.”
Isabel a met a boy named Ben and went on a date. She wanted something to fil her empty weekend days when Mary was studying and Kristi and Abby did things that Isabel a had no interest in, like going to the gym or shopping in SoHo. Isabel a went to the gym with them once, and Kristi wore earrings and a necklace while she ran on the treadmil , which bothered Isabel a so much that she couldn’t ever bring herself to go back again.
“I’ve never been on a date before,” Isabel a said to Mary as she got ready that night.
“You’ve been on plenty of dates,” Mary said.
“No,” Isabel a said. “I’ve been out to eat with boys who were my boyfriend, but that’s not dating. That’s just paral el eating.”
Mary looked up from her books and tilted her head. “Paral el eating,” she said. “Huh. Sometimes I think you should have been a lawyer.”
Isabel a and Ben starting spending a lot of time together, but he never real y wanted to do anything. He was fine sitting on the couch in their apartment. “Maybe we should go out?” Isabel a would suggest. “To a museum or the zoo or something?” Ben just laughed at her and patted her knee.
She and Ben went to bars with flip-cup tables and jukeboxes that played Neil Diamond. They danced on floors covered with sawdust and drank shots with clever names like Baby Guinnesses and Buttery Nipples. On the weekdays, they’d drag themselves out of bed, get bagels at the corner, and head off to work on different subways. On the weekends, they’d stay in bed for most of the day, getting up in the late afternoon to get brunch.
They mostly stayed at Isabel a’s apartment, because Ben’s place smel ed like ramen and feet and had a sign over the door that said “Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women.” He had two roommates, large looming boys who sat on the couch in their boxers and were always eating huge bowls of cereal and watching ESPN. They didn’t seem to mind Isabel a’s presence, but they didn’t real y notice her either. Any conversation she tried to start with them usual y ended in a grunt, and so she was happy that Ben preferred her apartment.
Ben slept easily in her bed, his mouth open, covers kicked off. Sometimes Isabel a woke up with a headache and hated him for being able to sleep. Sometimes she crept into Mary’s room and got into bed with her. “He’s snoring,” she’d whisper. And Mary would grunt and rol over.
The more Ben stayed there, though, the more time Mary spent at the library. Their apartment, which was cramped with two of them, could barely hold three. Isabel a got the sense that Mary was getting more and more annoyed at her, pointing out that the garbage was ful , saying things like “I guess I’l go get more toilet paper, again,” and shutting her door extra hard when she came home. Once, in the middle of the night, Ben left the toilet seat up and Mary fel in as she sat down. Isabel a tried to make it up to her, cleaning the bathroom and buying candy. She could tel that Mary appreciated her efforts, but the apartment remained crowded, and stil sometimes caused Mary to sigh loudly or snap about the dishes, depending on the day.
Isabel a was surprised to find that she could do her job in a constantly hungover state. She wasn’t sure if this was a wonderful discovery or a sign that she should run. Either way, her performance reviews were superb.
“Stick with me for one year and you’l go places,” Bil always said to her. He had a big stomach and ate Greek salad for lunch every day, which made him smel like onions, always. Isabel a knew that he thought the Greek salad was super healthy, and for that she pitied him. She also wished he didn’t smel like he did.
Sharon was less direct. “I got a run in my panty hose,” she would announce. Then she would stand and stare at Isabel a, making a face that said, What should we do about the pickle we’re in? until Isabel a offered to go get her new ones.
Standing in Duane Reade, picking out someone else’s panty hose, Isabel a thought, “This is real y happening.” She chose a control-top package and went to the counter to pay.
In late October, Isabel a’s sister, Mol y, brought her two girls to the city for the day. They came on the train from Philadelphia, wearing matching plaid jumpers and clutching American Girl dol s. Mol y insisted that they come to Isabel a’s apartment so that she could see where she was living. They al stood in the TV room and looked around. Missy and Caroline used the bathroom and sat on Isabel a’s bed.
“It’s very efficient,” Mol y said, and gathered up her things to go.
As they walked down the street, Missy, the older one, told Isabel a about their trip in. “There was a man sleeping outside the train station,” she said. “He made some bad choices in life.”
“Real y?” Isabel a asked. She looked at Mol y out of the corners of her eyes.
“Yeah,” Missy said. She grabbed Caroline’s arm and started offering advice. “Watch out for dog poop on the sidewalk,” she said. “Don’t look at anyone, or they’l take you.”
“Missy, no one is going to take you guys,” Isabel a said. Missy, who was nine, shook her head like Isabel a was stupid. “They told us about it in class, Auntie Iz. There are kidnappers everywhere, but especial y in New York.”
Al of Isabel a’s nieces and nephews cal ed her Auntie Iz, a ridiculous nickname given to her by her oldest brother when he had his first baby. It made her sound like some wicked aunt in a fairy tale, like a forgotten character from The Wizard of Oz.
Missy stood there with pursed lips and wide eyes, as though she wanted to warn Isabel a of the dangers of New York. Missy was a clone of Mol y, and sometimes, even though she was only nine, it was hard to like her. Isabel a bent down to Caroline. “No one’s going to take you,” she whispered in her ear. Caroline smiled.
They trekked around American Girl Place, watched a movie, bought some new outfits, and had tea with the dol s. Caroline’s dol had a Mohawk
in the front, where she had tried to cut the bangs. “I wanted her bangs to be gone,” Caroline explained. She touched her forehead. “Like mine.”
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