33. Sy
33
SY
I wiped sweat from my forehead as we walked down the long alley of shops under the Manhattan Bridge. The heat of the summer had really set in by the first weekend of July.
Still holding my hand, Jenna peeled off toward a furniture stall. We’d hardly been at the Brooklyn Flea Market for more than five minutes and she’d already spotted something she wanted to investigate,
I was running out of time for dates but Jenna was an avid thrifter and I knew the market in DUMBO would be a total hit with her.
“Oh, this nightstand is so pretty.” Jenna knelt down to get a better look at the piece. It was a mid-century modern design with walnut wood.
Putting my hands on my hips, I laughed. “Jen, do you really need a new nightstand?”
Jenna shot me a glare. “How dare you? Don’t say that in front of her.” Kissing her fingers, Jenna patted the top of it. “I’ll be back for you.”
Rejoining me, Jenna wrapped her arm in mine as we walked. Every few steps, she’d point to something interesting off to the side of the pathway. Occasionally, we’d stop in our tracks and take a closer look.
But it was odd to be shopping for our apartment – the one whose lease renewal was still sitting on our coffee table. Neither of us had the willpower to toss it or even email our management company about it.
Deep down, I'd hoped that the longer it sat there, the more likely it was that Jenna would just sign it.
Though, I could feel my hope slipping every day as she made plans to move back home. And she still hadn’t heard a single word from any of the jobs she’d applied to. So the reality was, in four weeks, we’d both have to move.
Even if it didn’t feel like the case as we strolled through the Flea Market like we had all the time in the world.
“Ugh, maybe you’re right about the nightstand. Do I really want to haul it across the country?” Jenna shook her head and me out of my haze.
Nodding, I shrugged. “That’s fair. But it is pretty.”
Her head rolled forward as she groaned. “That is such a good point. My bank account would be so sad.”
As if to reassure herself that it was the best thing to leave the piece behind, Jenna pulled out her phone and started to pull up her balance. She’d been doing it more and more like it was a daily reminder of how desperately she needed to get out of this expensive city and back to her family.
But her face dropped as she looked at the screen.
“What?” I asked as she stopped in her tracks.
She pulled her finger down on a notification, opening her email.
Her eyes flicked around the screen as a squeal came from deep in her chest. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”
“What?!” I couldn’t hide my panic, gripping her biceps as I turned her to face me.
Hardly able to stop screaming, Jenna jumped up and down. “I got an interview. A real fucking interview!”
My jaw dropped. “No fucking way!”
“Yes! At an agency in midtown!” Jenna turned her eyes back to the screen, immediately claiming an interview slot for the coming week. But as soon as she did, she shoved her phone into her pocket and wrapped her arms around me.
“Holy shit!” Pulling away, Jenna planted a kiss on my lips. She wasn’t gentle, too excited to be worried about that.
When we finally separated, dozens of pedestrians moving around us as they rolled their eyes, Jenna bit her lip. “I’m getting that motherfucking nightstand.”
I nodded. “Yes you are, and I’ll carry it home.”