One More Weekend (Sapphics in the City #5)

36. Jenna

36

JENNA

Sy and I kept talking at that table in Red Bamboo for a while, trying to figure out what we could handle.

Eventually, Sy nodded. “So, let’s revisit it once you get the job offer. For now, we just have to keep it casual.”

Laughing, I agreed. That was a lot easier said than done. But I also knew there was no word in which I could just cut the tap on the feelings I had for her.

Casual it is.

I paid the bill, refusing to let Sy even look at the number and we left the restaurant. Looping our arms together, we walked to our train – full of giggles and prosecco. I felt lighter, telling her how I really felt.

Taking off the performative mask was a relief, I didn’t have to pretend like her very presence didn’t make my heart soar.

When we got home, Sy was sweating from the heat of the early July night.

Planting a kiss on my cheek, Sy headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“Cheek kisses aren’t very casual, Sylvia.” I winked as I watched her go. Once the faucet turned on and Sy disappeared, I paced around the apartment.

Two months of unemployment had gotten pretty boring. The apartment had never been cleaner, and my room had never been more organized.

But there was still one thing out of place. There on the coffee table, staring back at me, was the ten-page lease renewal.

Part of me wanted to sign it right then and there, tell Sy to hook me up with any gigs she could find, and stretch my last three grand as far as it would go until something came back to me.

But I knew it wasn’t smart. No, it was rash. And that was probably the last word I’d use to describe myself.

Sighing, I realized just how screwed Sy would be if I ended up leaving. She’d been so busy taking me all around the city and working that she hadn’t even had time to go look at places. If this job fell through, she’d have a couple weeks to pack up all of her stuff and find a new place.

Biting my lip, I grabbed the lease from the table and headed to my room.

There has to be something I can do.

A little over a week later, Sy was rushing us off the N train at the 23rd Street station with a wicker basket in her hand.

“I wanna get a good spot.” She called over her shoulder as took the subway steps two at a time.

I followed closely behind, a smile taking over my face as I watched her brow furrow in the way it does when she’s stressed. This was one of the final dates Sy would be able to take me on before the lease ended and she thought it was arguably one of the best.

When we left the subway station, the sun was still shining bright in the sky despite it being just past 7:30 pm. I knew I would miss the summer sun when winter came… if I was still here that was.

The agency had emailed me at the start of the week to let me know they’d have a decision by the end of the week.

And I’d spent every moment since refreshing my email. I already booked a moving service and a flight home just in case it fell through. But Tommy had agreed to be one of my references and I knew that she would have nothing but nice things to say about my work.

Everything pointed in my favor.

For Sy’s sake – and my own – I needed to keep a level head and make sure I didn’t get anyone’s hopes too high.

Sy guided us across the street to Madison Square Park, finding a grassy spot near the corner of Madison Avenue and E 23rd Street. The whole park was abuzz with gathering people.

“Sy, what on earth are we doing?”

“Having a picnic.” Sy smiled as she threw out a large picnic blanket, anchoring it down with the basket and her shoes.

Opening up the wicker basket, Sy pulled out an entire charcuterie board of snacks. Cut cheese, salami, crackers, fig jam, and berries were all neatly laid out across the blanket as we ate.

Checking her phone, Sy nodded. “Dig in, we have about an hour before we need to get up.”

“Get up? Is this not the whole thing?”

“Nope.” Sy shook her head as a devious smile took over her face. She’d been very secretive about the whole thing, not willing to let a single thing slip about what we were actually here to do.

So instead, we snacked and laughed. The sun started to lower in the sky as I laid out on the blanket, resting my head on Sy’s thigh as she ran her hand through my hair.

Around 8:15, Sy rubbed my arm. “Time to get up.”

I wrinkled my forehead as we packed up our basket and threw on our shoes before walking over to 23rd Street. But Sy stopped us on the sidewalk with hundreds of other pedestrians, all lined up on the curb.

“Oh my god, no way! I’ve never seen it before!” I jumped with excitement.

A natural phenomenon, Manhattanhenge only happened twice a year. And somehow, I’d never been able to see it.

As we joined the crowd, the streets slowly got quiet as pedestrians made their way to the center of the road, watching as the sun started to lower down toward the horizon.

My jaw dropped as I watched it align perfectly with 23rd Street, cradled by skyscrapers on either side as it cast an orange glow down the entire island.

Standing behind me, Sy wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her chin on my shoulder. We stood like that in silence as the orange light intensified, the sun falling lower and lower.

Some in the crowd pulled out their phones to record it, part of me wondering if I should take one myself.

But I didn’t, letting my hands rest on Sy’s forearms as I leaned my head back into her chest.

As the sun neared the horizon, the bottom of the sphere just above the Jersey hills, the crowd started to gasp. Right when it touched, everyone erupted into claps.

It really was awe-inspiring. Amongst the hustle and bustle of a thriving, growing city, it had been just so perfectly designed that the sun would set right on the lines of the grid, lighting the city up in magnificent, fiery hues of yellow and orange.

No one moved until the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the whole world feeling like it ground to a halt just long enough to watch the sunset.

The crowd started to shift, the brief moment of stillness in the city that never sleeps coming to an end.

From my pocket, my phone buzzed with an email.

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled it out and waited for it to load.

Subject Line: Agent Assistant Position, Final Decision.

My chest tightened at the words. No offer.

But I forced myself to read the body of the email.

Hi Jenna,

It was a pleasure to get to know you over the last week. Your resume speaks for itself and we have no doubt that you have a bright future.

Unfortunately, we’ve decided to move forward with another candidate but we look forward to seeing all the wonderful work you will do in this industry moving forward.

Best of luck,

HR

Fuck. My stomach flipped as I considered what it meant.

It was July 12th. I had two weeks left on our lease. And as I met Sy’s eyes, concern all over her face, I knew what it all meant.

“I have to leave New York.”