Monkey Business (31 page)

Wednesday, April 28, 10:40 a.m.

I
put down my pencil and raise my hand. Third exam over. I stretch my legs under the desk. Wait for the proctor to come take my paper. Insert my student card into my front pocket.

Kimmy is sitting three rows ahead, scribbling furiously. It's weird to think that after Friday I might never see her again. Nick told me she's planning on going back to Arizona. She's not taking the job at O'Donnel, either. I called last week to tell them I changed my mind because of family obligations, and they weren't too thrilled. Oh, well.

Kimmy runs her fingers through her hair, and I feel a pang in my chest. Part of me still wants her, and probably always will. Maybe our paths will cross someday. Maybe we'll both be visiting New York and will be crossing Fifth Avenue at the same time and our eyes will lock. If I expect Sharon to forgive me, or at least let me be a part of our baby's life, I can't have any contact with Kimmy. It's the right thing to do. I care about her, but I have to be responsible.

I'm going to have to grovel. I asked Sharon if she wanted
to get married and she told me to go to hell. But you never know, eh?

“All done?” the proctor asks, taking my exam.

“Yes.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say. I'll need it.

Thursday, April 29, 12:00 a.m.

I'
m feeling a little ambivalent as I pack my belongings into my bag and roll myself out into the library elevator for the last time this year. On the one hand, I'm happy to be finished exams; on the other hand, I love the adrenaline rush they give me.

The elevator stops at the third floor. Kimmy walks in, blurry eyed, like she forgot to close her eyes underwater. She tenses when she sees me. We haven't spoken since our argument.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Good. You? Ready for tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah.”

I flash back to images of her staring at the professor clue-lessly. “Are you sure?”

She hesitates again. “I'll be fine.”

I know she's lying, and suddenly I don't want to be mad at her anymore. “Do you need some help?”

She shakes her head. “I'll be fine.”

“Define Arbitrage.”

“It's…um…” She shakes her head. “I'm fucked, huh? I'm totally lost.”

I giggle. “You're not. Come over and we'll review.”

“It's already midnight. You like to get a good night's sleep before an exam.”

“I'm plenty rested. We're reviewing,” I tell her, feeling charged. The idea of helping her invigorates me the way nothing else has all week. “You get the snacks, I'll make the tea, and we'll meet in my room in five, okay?”

“I don't deserve it,” she says.

What kind of talk is that? “Yes, you do.”

For the first time ever, Kimmy hugs me. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

 

Kimmy gives me a thumbs-up as she leaves the exam room. She's smiling. Even though I'm not finished yet, and I'm never going to finish, and I'm the only one still in the room, and I'm too exhausted to think straight, I can't help but feel elated at her smile. She did it. We stayed up all night laughing and studying, and she did it. I've never felt more proud. Of someone else or, I realize, of myself.

After the exam, which I most definitely failed, I make a decision. I call Danielle Grand and ask her if she's still looking for a summer associate.

“Wow, Layla, I would love to have you onboard, but I don't have anything left in the summer budget.”

“I don't need a salary for the summer, just the experience. I want to help and see if I like the work. I need to find work I can feel good about. My only request is that you don't put me to work as a gofer. I want to do
real
work.”

She laughs. “You're going to love it. And there's plenty of real work for you to do that will utilize your skill set. Like managing the fund-raising, budget, taxes…the list is endless.”

I smile. “I'm looking forward to it.”

12:30 p.m.

A
lmost done. My books have been stacked in a storage area downstairs for Jamie to sell next year, and I'm almost finished packing my clothes.

I lie back on my bare mattress and take a minibreak. I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally. I haven't pulled an all-nighter in a while, but it was worth it. I think I might have actually passed the exam. Layla is a genius teacher. She'd make a great professor one day. I hope I have some time to hang out with her before I leave today. My flight home isn't until eight. I wonder if Russ already left. Guess he didn't want to say goodbye. Too awkward.

All right. Break over. I stand up and stretch. I should probably call back Claire Moss. I tried calling her earlier this week to tell her I no longer wanted to work for them, but she wasn't in and we've been playing phone tag ever since. Not that I've been trying very hard to get in touch. I'm not looking forward to the conversation. Between me and Russ revoking our offers, they'll probably stop hiring LWBS students.

I find the number and pick up to dial. Why isn't it ring
ing? Has the phone company already cut off my dorm line?

“Hello, Ms. Nailer?” says a gruff voice.

“Yes?”

“Professor Martin here.”

Not again. Please tell me Russ didn't copy my exam. Ha-ha. “Yes?”

“I'm calling to congratulate you on your final mark. You scored a ninety-five on your exam, which means that combined with your assignment marks, you scored the highest mark in the class.”

Oh. My. God. “I did?”

“Yes. And I don't know if you're aware of it, but the top students in all three second-semester Strategy classes will receive the Hunder Strategy Award.”

An award? They're giving me an award? Are they crazy? I don't deserve an award. I don't deserve anything.

Maybe it's time for me to become someone who's award-worthy.

“Thank you, Professor,” I manage to squeak.

“With the award is a scholarship for fifteen hundred dollars, and I hope it will encourage you to specialize in Strategy next year.”

They're giving me money, too? Holy shit. “Um, that's what I was thinking of doing.” Well, I am now.

“Also, I'd like you to consider applying for a teacher's assistant position next fall for the Strategy Intro class.”

Wow. “I could do that, too.”

“Great. I'll be mailing the scholarship and TA application to the address the school has on file in Arizona. And I look forward to seeing you next year. Have a great summer.”

“Thanks,” I say, unable and unwilling to stop smiling. “You, too.” I can't believe a professor has so much faith in me that he wants me to help first-years. Who knew?

The phone rings again. Maybe I won the Finance scholarship, too. Maybe I should stop dreaming.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Kimmy Nailer?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello, it's Claire Moss returning your call from O'Donnel. Sorry for the phone tag we've been playing.”

My heart jumps to my throat. “Oh. No problem. Thanks for calling me back.”

“Do you have any concerns?” she asks.

Do I have any concerns? Yes, about a million. I'm concerned that I'm going to spend the rest of my life being someone I hate. I'm concerned that I won't be tough enough to make it in the corporate world. I'm concerned no one will ever love me.

The thing is, I want this job. I want this life. I want to come back to LWBS next year. I want to be a TA. I want my own damn freshly squeezed orange juice. “I want to confirm that the starting date is June first,” I say quickly, before I can change my mind.

“Yes. And orientation is May thirty-first.”

“Looking forward to it,” I say. And I am.

 

My entire year is packed into two duffel bags. How sad. The walls look bare and small dust bunnies peek out from the corners of the closet. Gross. My hands are filthy and I smell like I forgot to use deodorant this morning. I've packed the clock, but my watch says it's four-fifteen. Still a while to go.

Knock, knock.

“Hold on.” Maybe Layla is coming to say goodbye. I can't wait to tell her about New York. She's going to be so proud of me. I open the door and a lump instantaneously forms in my throat.

It's Russ.

“Hey,” he says.

“I thought you were gone.” I look at the floor.

“Leaving now. Can I come in?”

I nod and hold the door open, still not meeting his gaze.

“How'd you find the exam?” he asks.

“Fine. You?” I lean against the empty desk that came with the room. I don't think I can take much more of this small talk. The lump is threatening to expand and block my speaking capabilities, possibly choking me.

“I came to say goodbye,” he says softly. I continue staring at the floor, the disgusting dusty floor, and he touches my arm. “I needed to say goodbye.” His voice trembles, and I finally look up.

And then my eyes lock with the bluest eyes I have ever seen, and I fall headfirst into them all over again. His eyes are glistening, and he's trying to blink away his tears. I wonder if I'll ever lose myself in eyes like those again.

My cheeks are wet, but I don't care. “Goodbye,” I say.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers.

I know, I think but don't say. Me, too.

He hugs me tightly, and I let his smell overwhelm my nose and throat. “You're doing the right thing,” I whisper into his ear, and realize I mean it.

“Yeah?” He sounds relieved.

“Yeah.”

Would we have worked in the long run? I thought so, but I'm not sure. Eventually the
Spider-Man
soundtrack would have driven me crazy.

That and the fact that I didn't trust him.

“Good luck,” he says.

I pull back. “Good luck to you.”

He kisses me on the cheek. “Be good.”

I laugh even though I can barely breathe. “You, too.”

He squeezes my hand and lets himself out. And I sit back on the bare mattress and cry.

4:30 p.m.

K
immy rubs her eyes with the back of her hands, and I gently pull her hands away from her face. “Don't do that, sweetie. Here's a tissue.”

“Thank you,” she says through her hiccups. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

“That's what I'm here for. Do you want some more tea?”

“No, thanks. I'm feeling better.” Kimmy looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks for letting me stay in your apartment this summer. Are you sure you don't mind having me?”

“It makes perfect sense for you to stay in my place. Why should you spend money when my room is empty? My sister's at her boyfriend's all the time, anyway. And I just spoke to the Zoo and they keep the dorm open for summer students, and since I'm working only ten minutes away it makes more sense to stay right here.” I can't believe I'm staying in this dorm longer than necessary. But there's no point in moving when I'm working so close by. Hey, I just had a thought. Maybe I'll be the only one on this floor. Wouldn't that be great? I'd get the bathroom all to myself.
I could even go streaking down the hallway, stark naked, if I want.

“I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Layla,” she says. “You've been a true friend. And now it's time for me to return the favor.”

“Don't be silly, I don't expect anything in return.”

“I know you don't. And I also know you hate being told what to do and when you're wrong. And you know I normally hold things back, and don't say everything I think, but I want to tell you something.”

“Sounds ominous,” I say. “Okay, shoot.”

“You're being an idiot about Jamie.”

“Now wait just a min—”

“No. You've taught me all year, and now it's your turn to listen. Jamie loves you. And he's an amazing man. He's funny and sweet and smart, and he would be a wonderful boyfriend for you.”

“But he was unethical and he lied and—”

“Yeah, I know what he did. So he's not perfect. No one is, Layla. No one will ever be. You've got to get over your obsession with perfection. No one can live up to it. News flash—you're not perfect, either.”

“Maybe not, but I'm not deceitful.”

“Oh, really. Tell me something, did you ever tell Bradley where you first heard about him?”

My cheeks do a slow burn.

“Now listen up. You're bossy and obsessive, and you know what? Your friends love you, anyway.
He
loves you, anyway. So he made a mistake. Learn from it, and move on.” She takes a long sip of her tea. “You know what I think? I think you use this obsession you have with perfection as an excuse not to get close to someone. If you have to have something wrong with you, the least you could do was get something a little more original.”

I pick up a pillow and throw it at her, and it hits her hand. And knocks over her tea. All over my bedspread.

“Aw, crap.” I'm about to sulk, when instead I think, Is it possible she's right? I got freaked out by Brad, but terrified by Jamie. I do a mental recap of all my past relationships. Oh, my, she
is
right.

“You're right,” I say, my heart racing. “About everything. Especially about Jamie. He
is
an amazing man. He's generous and sweet and loving and hilarious and sensual. Sometimes I wish he'd stop joking and be serious, and other times he looks so sad, as if he's carrying the weight of every sick child on his shoulders, and it breaks my heart. And he has a unibrow. And according to you, a small penis. But I like him.”

Wow. Did I just say that? I leap off the bed. “I have to fix this, now.”

Kimmy chokes on her tea. “Of course, only you would have an immediate epiphany and want to take action. You are the most spontaneous and passionate person I have ever met. But I think he might have already—”

“No time for thinking!” I spritz my Chanel No. 5 across my chest and sprint down the hall. I pound on his door. No one answers, so I open the door. The room is empty. Stark-naked empty. I can't believe it. I've missed my chance.

“Maybe he's still packing up his car,” Kimmy offers, standing next to me.

“You're right!” I skip down the stairs to the garage.

“You're not wearing any shoes!” Kimmy yells after me. “Or a coat!”

“It's spring!” I yell back, and run to the garage. Is he there? Is he still here? Please let him still be here.

And there's his Hyundai. And he's shoving a box into the trunk.

“Hi,” he says, surprised to see me.

I kiss him before he can say anything, then pull back and
look at his face. “I am so sorry. I should never have freaked out the way I did. You are a terrifically imperfect man who's perfect for me.”

That so didn't come out right. He doesn't say anything, just stares blankly. Maybe it's too late. He got over Kimmy. Maybe he's over me. Is he now going to turn this all into a joke and blow me off? “Well?” I ask, hands on hips. “Tell me how you feel. Straight up. I can't take a joke.”

He brushes my hair away from my face, then runs his finger from my ear, across my cheek, to my lips. He looks into my eyes and I lose my breath. And then he kisses me.