Chapter Eighteen EDITED

"You're just damage control for a walking corpse like me." Rilo Kiley
I met Steven at the Amber Room after work one night for dinner, and I brought him the final copy of our article. He read parts of it out loud and laughed at all the right phrases.
“Jane, you’re a great writer!” He looked at me admiringly.
“Thank you.” I was mildly embarrassed, but pleased. I felt good about this piece. After what seemed like months of directionless partying, I had completed something I was actually proud of. It felt strange. Steven held my hand over the table, looking at me the whole time. It felt good to be appreciated, but I only wished I liked him more.
“So I was reading this article Leo was writing about animal testing…” I started.
“Oh.” He looked mildly disinterested. I stopped myself.
“So when does your new movie come out?” I tried that instead. He launched into a description of it, and it sounded pretty good, but I felt my mind wandering. I tried to refocus, and remain present, but he just wasn’t that interesting. It was kind of like dating a bowl of oatmeal. A bowl of oatmeal with an oddly attractive scruffy beard. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I took a large bite of salad. He didn’t really need a response though, as his soliloquy had bled from the movie to his costar and then to on-set practical jokes. But then I looked at him, and he was just so damn adorable, I figured I should just try harder. He walked me home after dinner, and it was, admittedly, lovely. The oppressive heat had cooled after sunset, and he and I were walking in comfortable silence. On Marie’s stoop, he looked at me seriously.
“I love hanging out with you, Jane. You’re just like…so smart.” He looked shy, running his hands over his hair nervously.
“I like spending time with you too.” I squeezed his hand.
“I’ll call you later tonight to say good night?” He smiled.
“Ok, sure.” I felt a little awkward. Was this seventh grade?
I let myself in, and there was no one there. It felt odd. Without anyone to reflect back to me who I was supposed to be at that moment I didn’t know who to be: competent intern, party girl, or attentive date, whatever. I sat at the kitchen table, and breathed, feeling restless and ill at ease. All of my role playing was exhausting me. Instead of thinking about it, I called Leo.
“Hey Baby Jane!” She yelled into the phone. “Come over, we’re doing karaoke!” I smiled. She was so wholesome and excitable. I caught a cab back to Brooklyn.
When I buzzed into Leo’s building, the sound of laughter echoed down the stairwell. When I walked in Leo and Taylor were singing “Rebel Rebel” by Bowie, strutting around. They looked so cute together, and their apartment was cozy and artistically decorated with Taylor’s artwork. Everyone introduced themselves, and Yuki gave me a bone-crushing hug. Her silent boyfriend nodded in my direction. The girl next to me, Jenna, was a model for an alternative apparel brand. She wore thick granny glasses and looked effortless. She yelled over the music to me.
“Sing a song!” she grinned at me. She was so friendly for someone so beautiful.
“No, I’m terrible,” I grimace, “I sound like a five year old!”
“C’mon, we’re all bad. Listen to Taylor.” I noted Taylor’s off key warbling.
After a few more drinks, Jenna coerced me into singing “I Wanna Be Sedated”. I did my best Ramones rendition, my small voice causing raucous laughter from the crowd. I fell asleep on Leo’s couch later that night, texting Marie where I was, right before I drifted off.
I Borrowed Leo’s clothes for work that morning, standard hipster fare of tight jeans and a v neck t-shirt.
“I am hurtin’, baby Jane.” Leo had her face all scrunched up from the sun’s glare.
“Let’s get coffee. Please. Now.”
We ducked into a coffee shop, and I ordered coffee for the whole staff.
“I got it, Leo.” I slid my mom’s credit card across the counter. “This way, she knows where I am, and remembers I exist.”
“Thanks, girlie. Everyone will loveeee you today.”
“Well, I saw Yuki last night, I’ll bet she needs this.”
We sat around the table, finishing the final layout for the August issue. I saw my article in mock-up, and felt distinct pride through my tiredness. After the meeting, another intern and I were forced to try facemasks for Shannon. Lexi and I copy edited while looking like Kermit the Frog in our various seaweed masks. Lexi was Shannon’s intern for the summer, a student at N.Y.U. She reminded me of Marie in dress sense, wearing ironic sweater vests and pleated skirts paired with combat boots. She looked like a relic from the nineties.
“So you used to date the dude from The Wake.” She raised her eyebrows and her mask cracked around her eyes.
“Yeah.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear self consciously.
“Nice. They’re pretty good.” She nodded. “Well if you liked them, I know about this underground punk show tonight, you down?”
“Let me check with my friends, but yeah.” Lexi was just one of those cool girls who knew about New York in its entirety. I wanted to see her New York, and I thought the girls would too. I met them at a café near Marie’s after work, my pores shrunk and tightened by all the facemasks I tried.
“So Lexi said it’s in this warehouse space, really grimy and full of art installations. I’m thinking it combines all of our favorite things: smoking indoors, dirty boys who don’t have real jobs and watching Viv fawn over art.” I was trying to convince them, as I couldn’t stand another glossy evening with Steven.
Marie chewed thoughtfully while Viv picked at a cookie.
“I’m down,” Viv said, “I’ve been meaning to see some artsy boys who don’t shower.”
“Viv, that’s all you do all day.”
“Well I didn’t see any today. Oops, there goes one.” She pointed at a waiter. “Well, you can never see enough.”
“Yeah sure, I’ll go.” Marie gave her seal of approval.