Chapter Thirteen

“You know her life was saved by rock and roll.” Velvet Underground.


My realization earlier than afternoon presented a few problems: What was I going to do with myself, and how would I tell my parents? Like usual, I just called Andrew to go out as opposed to dealing with my issues. I had emailed my essay earlier, and the anxiety of what I would do if I didn’t get it. Trade journal or women’s magazine? Jesus.
It was a Saturday night, nearing the end of March. Spring is another season of promise, where the smell of wet grass and rain matched my own new beginning. A beginning of what, I didn’t know. But at least I had finally made a decision.
Andrew and I went to a restaurant downtown that served ten dollar pitchers of beer and vegan food. The waitstaff were all gorgeous and hip, as were the clientele. We ate dinner and I told him I was dropping out, at least for a year.
“Are you sure?” he looked hesitant.
“Yes.” I was absolute.
“Not because of me, right?” That irked me. Even other people saw my lack of identity.
“It’s not for you, it’s for me.”
“What will you do?” he asked, taking a sip of beer.
“Anything I want.”
“Does that include me?”
“Yes.” I rubbed his thigh under the table, running my fingernails down his pantleg, touching his knee lightly.
“Hurry up and eat, please. I need to take you home and fuck you. No, make love to you.” I continued teasing him, dipping on finger lightly below his waistband, “God I love you.”
“And I,” I paused, “Love you too.”
The car ride home, we surreptitiously touched each other, kissing at stoplights. We had this amazing chemistry, where I wanted to rip his clothes off as soon as I started thinking about him. When we got home, he insisted on carrying me up the stairs, and I giggled. When he carried me through the door, I jumped down from his arms and pulled him onto the floor. We had sex right there, rough and animalistic, the only sounds in the apartment our pants and groans. When I came, I cried out like I had just been shot.
I formally withdrew from Wellesley without asking my parents. I wondered how long it would be until they notice. Probably a while, until their accountant told them they had stopped getting billed. I walked to the bank nearest my house and checked my trust fund. It was invested, so the amount varied weekly. I had one hundred and five thousand dollars that week. It was a large sum of money, I knew that, and I felt reassured. I took my parents names off the account just to be sure. My dead grandmother had left me this, to use to travel abroad like she had in the days following World War Two. The pictures of her then showed a bohemian on the Left Bank, drinking coffee or in front of the Eiffel Tower. She wanted me to have that. I would have pictures of that, but instead of charming old Polaroids, they would be digital pictures, forever confined to the internet. And I’d be in Brooklyn, not Paris. But maybe Paris. Maybe London. Maybe LA. These new locations popped into my head daily, now that I had the excuse to think about them.
“You’re like fucking married. What is this, 1950? You’re dropping out of college so you can make dinner for your man every night.” Marie hated my decision vehemently.
“Oh Jesus, Marie. Stop being such a bitch.” Viv rolled her eyes.
“Fuck off.” Marie was hostile, in one of her black moods, brought on by stress, and feeling left out. Viv had started dating Tre again, and Marie was only fucking whoever struck her fancy. She was the only single one, and she tried every chance she got to change our minds about monogamy.
“Whatever, it’s your choice, even if it’s a stupid one.” She stalked into her room.
“Maybe I’ll drop out too.” Viv mused. “I hate my teachers and my classmates, and what will I do with an art major anyway?”
“You could come to Brooklyn with me! Let’s get Marie to transfer to Barnard.” It was vague planning, the kind that you know will never really happen.
“Yeah, definatley.” I knew Viv was forever making plans like this.
James stuck his head through the door, slightly red. He avoided Viv now she was with Tre, but still wanted her friendship horribly.
“You guys want to watch a movie or…something?”
“Yeah, come on in, I’ll call Andrew. He misses his little buddy.”
James rolled his eyes at me. “Shut up. I am not his little buddy.”
“She’s right, you have a total bromance.” Viv giggled.
We watched a French film James picked out, causing Viv to fake a horrible French accent.
“Le red wine for le girl names le Jane?”
“Did you learn nothing at performing arts camp?” I joked.
“Oh le cynic!” she shot back, laughing.
My phone chirped loudly.
“Sorry guys!”
“Hello?” I answered.
“Is this Jane Tyler?”
“Yes?” I wondered who this was.
“This is Leonora from See You Next Tuesday.”
I was startled and stammered back, “Oh, uh, Hi.”
“We’re calling to offer you an internship this summer. Wellesley girls, you know? You can call me Leo, and I’m the Editoral Director. You’ll be working for me, or like, whoever needs you.”
“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I was grinning like an idiot.
“Ok well we’ll need you down here a.s.a.p. Do you need help getting a place.”
“Nope, I’m living with my boyfriend, he’s recording an album.”
“Oh word? What band?”
“The Wake?”
“Oh wow, I love them. Which one is he?”
“Uhm the singer and guitarist.”
“Whoa, hottie.” I liked her easy way of talking, full of slang and enthusiasm. She seemed so composed and sure of herself. I wished I sounded like that.
“Well, we’ll totally do a feature on them, yeah! In the ‘Boys we have crushes on’ section!”
“Ok thank you again!”
“Yeah, word. I’ll be emailing you soon.”
I hung up, dazed.
“So you got it?” Andrew was smiling.
“Yes!”
“Huh huh huh, le victory!” Viv toasted me.