She looks at the time on her phone and quickly finishes applying her lipstick and some final touches around her eyes.
“You look… magnificent,” I say without a hint of irony in my voice.
"Thank you, I hope it's enough.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
"Well, I am meeting up with Ellis and I haven't seen her since I've moved up here.”
“You know, some people would say that friends are there to support you in your time of need," I suggest.
“You just don't understand. We have been friends since we were kids and this is what it's like to have friends from back in the day,” she says with a shrug.
“Yes,” I say, “I am familiar with the concept of a long-term friendship. But you and Ellis don't seem to be very close. I mean, why else would you go through all of this trouble to impress her instead of just telling her what you're going through?”
“Okay,” she says quickly, waving goodbye. “I don't have time to get into another argument with you. I've got to go.”
After the door slams shut, I whisper, “I love you.”
19
Henry
Two months later, we get the dreaded eviction notice. We have been expecting it, but it still comes as a surprise.
Aurora's job at the library pays five cents over minimum-wage and she can only do twenty hours a week. Even those hours take her away from her studies, and I can tell that she is falling behind on writing her thesis.
She comes home exhausted both from the commute and the classes as well as the hours at work. The time that she should be writing, she instead spends procrastinating, watching television or scrolling through her phone.
I want to do something to help, but I can't. I fill out application after application after application for every teaching job available, along with about one-hundred other jobs that I'm not particularly qualified for, but no one is hiring.
All teaching jobs in the city are taken until the fall except for some prestigious tutoring centers, that only have a few hours available a week and are located in lower Manhattan.
I get one offer and I brave the long commute for measly pay and teach basic concepts to spoiled rich kids who could not care less about anything that I have to say. When I come home and vent about them to Aurora, she gets defensive.
“You know what,” she says one evening. “I'm really tired of you talking like that. Is that what you think my childhood was like? Is that who you think I was?”
"No, not at all,” I say even though that's a lie.
I know that that's exactly how her parents were when she was little and that's probably how they told her to treat her tutors as well, as if they were there to serve her.
“I'm just very tired right now,” I say, trying to steer the conversation to something else. “How was your day?”
“I didn't go to class today,” she says.
“Really? How come?”
“I don't know,” she says, staring absentmindedly at her phone. “I didn't have work and I just didn't feel like going all the way down there.”
"Things are going to get better,” I say, trying to stay optimistic.
She turns to face me and gives me a blank stare. “How is that exactly? I mean, what's going to happen to make it better?”
I don't have an answer to that. “I think we just need to stay positive and not let this tear us apart.”
“Do you want to know what I think?" she asks. I nod.
“I think that we need to ask for help. I think it's about time that I go to my father and ask him to pay for our apartment.”
“No, absolutely not."
“Why not?
“Because they made it very clear that they want nothing to do with us.”
“No, they did not. They did not want me to see you. But that doesn't mean that they don't want to have a relationship with me.”
"So, what are you saying exactly?"
“I don't know what I'm saying. I'm very confused. All I know is that we need help and they are the only ones in a position to help. I mean, why are we doing this to ourselves? They love me and they would be freaking out if they knew the financial position that we are living in. They would have a heart attack if they saw this apartment. It’s as small as my mom’s shoe closet!”
“But what about what they said about me?” I ask quietly.
“I think that they're going to change their mind,” Aurora insists. “I have been absent long enough from their life and I think they're going to be happy just to hear from you again.”
I shake my head no.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why can't you just give them a chance?”
“They never gave me a chance,” I insist.
She gets off of the sofa and goes to the tea kettle. She runs some water in it from the sink and then stands there and watches as it comes to a boil.
“I wasn't going to tell you this,” she says, pouring the hot water into her favorite blue cup, “but my mom has been giving me money for the last four months.”
“What?" I gasp.
“I should've told you earlier, but I just didn't want to make things more difficult. My mom has been helping us with money for a long time because the truth is… I haven't been working at the library.”
“How could you lie to me about that?” I whisper.
"Henry, they pay minimum-wage. I'm in my last year of the PhD program and I can't spend twenty hours a week working for so little so we can afford this ridiculously shitty apartment. I'm already commuting two hours each day and…”
The voice trails off.
I don't say anything for a while.
“Are you mad?” she asks.
“No, I'm not. I thought I would be, but I am actually disappointed,” I admit.
“Don't you understand that I have to finish my PhD? I've been working on it for years."
“Yes, I do understand. But I also understand that after all of these years, you have grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that I will never be able to afford. It just makes me a little sad.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks.
“What I'm talking about is that I don't think that we are ever going to be on the same page. You're never going to think that I make enough money. And whatever it is that I do make, you will never be happy with it.”
She shakes her head vigorously and promises that it’s not true.
Unfortunately, we both know that it is.
I can't compete with the world in which she was raised in. It's not like her parents were doctors or lawyers. She has had more in this life than most people can ever dream up or even imagine.
How stupid was I to assume that she would be willing to give all of that up for me?
“My mother has invited us to dinner," she says coldly. “I think they want to give it another chance to get to know you better. It's tomorrow night. Please say that you’ll go."
20
Aurora
We arrive at my parents’ apartment on Park Avenue, and their doorman lets us in. Edward has been working there ever since I can remember, and I think of him as a friend rather than an acquaintance or an employee.
I ask about his wife who has been battling cancer, which is now in remission, and his children, who my father has employed at Tate Media. They both attended state schools and submitted their resumes through the normal hiring process, but after my mother found out, she streamlined their hiring process.
“So, they're happy in their jobs?” I ask.
“Yes. Very happy. We are both so grateful to your parents.”
"Good, I'm glad to hear that,” I say, giving him another brief hug.
I haven't seen him for a while and I actually just realized how much I have missed him.
“So, this is the infamous Henry Asher?” Edward says. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
"Yes, you, too,” Henry says, shaking his hand.
“Well, I think we better be going, they're waiting
for us,” I say, waving goodbye. As we ride up in the elevator, I wonder why my father was perfectly fine with giving Edward’s children positions at the company and has not extended the same courtesy to Henry.
I'm not familiar with the woman who answers the door as my mother goes through servants often. Very few make it longer than six months and a number of them barely survive a month. My father and I used to joke that my mother isn't actually interested in having a servant at home, but only has one because it is something that is expected of her.
“Thank you both for coming,” my mother says, giving me a brief hug and shaking Henry's hand.
She shows us through the sitting room into the living room, where my father is standing next to the built-in bar, putting together a drink menu.
After a brief hello, he asks Henry what he wants to drink and makes two scotches on the rocks. My mother and I opt for glasses of white wine. When I find a seat next to their roaring fireplace, I wonder if this is going to be strong enough.
I come into the dinner not knowing exactly what to expect. They have already expressed concerns about Henry and our relationship, but over these last few months my mother has softened her approach.
I got the sense that she regretted saying what she said the last time we were at lunch together. I haven't seen her again, but we have texted and occasionally spoken on the phone and even video chatted one time.
The few times that I have asked her to send me money, she has been more than generous. I regretted lying to Henry about my library job, but after the interview, they offered me the position and told me about the pay and I couldn’t go through with it.
Twenty hours a week for a job that paid minimum-wage was just not something that I could afford to do in my last year. I knew that he wouldn't understand and that's why I kept it from him for as long as I did.
My mother, however, understood very well. Even though she is not entirely on board with my PhD, she is very big on finishing projects that you start. And since I was already enrolled, she did not want me postponing graduation just so I could work hours I couldn’t afford to get the $800 in rent that we needed.
When I talked to her on the phone, I only asked for that month’s rent. When I hung up, I saw a text that she had deposited $10,000 into my bank account. I thanked her politely and considered returning a portion of it, but then decided against it.
I might need it in the future and I didn't want to have to ask again. In the meantime, I promised myself that I would spend the money wisely and not buy anything extravagant that we didn't need.
Over dinner, we focus mainly on general topics of conversation. We talk about my little brother who is going into seventh grade and who is currently at his fencing lesson. He is heavily involved in musical theater, which my mother loves and my father hates, so I asked her about that along with about a million other things that have nothing to do with Tate Media, my PhD program, or Henry's job. The dinner goes nicely enough and I think that it's actually going to be a success.
But then just as the dessert is served, my father asks Henry about his work.
“Well, as you probably know, the school is shutting down and they have laid off almost all of the teachers.”
"No, I didn't hear that part,” my father says, tilting his head in a concerned manner.
“Yes, the state’s attorney is currently investigating the entire board of trustees. It's an unfortunate situation and a lot of the kids are really suffering,” Henry says.
“And the teachers as well, I'm sure,” my father says.
“Yes, the teachers are as well,” Henry agrees.
I wonder if Henry thinks that my father is being cold and distant. He doesn't know him, but he's actually acting as compassionately as I have ever seen him. I hope that he doesn't make him regret that.
“Henry is looking for a new job,” I cut in, “but as you can imagine there are not a lot of teachers being hired in the middle of winter.”
“No, I imagine not,” Daddy says.
“I am working part-time as a tutor for a few kids in lower Manhattan,” Henry says rather defensively.
"And, are you interested in any other opportunities?” my mother asks.
“Yes, of course. I have sent out my resume to a number of research and writing related positions, but I haven't heard anything back yet.”
"Well, that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you today,” my father says. “We are actually starting a new division at Tate Media that's going to be focusing on crime. We will have a television division, and online magazine division as well as podcasts and even programming on various social media networks. We are doing a big hiring spree and I would love for you to send your resume to our HR people for consideration.”
“Oh, wow,” Henry says slowly, completely surprised. “Yes, of course. That would just be wonderful.”
“Good,” Daddy says, nodding his head and giving me a wink. “I'm glad to hear that. Send me a resume tomorrow and I'll pass it along to my people. I can't make any promises, of course.”
“No, I completely understand. I appreciate the opportunity.”
In the cab back, Henry is on cloud nine. Smiling from ear to ear, he gets home and immediately opens his laptop and starts working on his cover letter.
“Are you going to do it right now?" I ask.
“Yes, of course. Your dad wants to see it tomorrow so I want it to show up in his inbox first thing.”
"You know, you can take your time,” I say.
"No, actually I can't. This is the first time that your father has shown any interest in me and not just that, he actually made me an offer. I don't take that lightly.”
Henry works late into the night. He must have rewritten that cover letter and resume a hundred times before finally sending it off. I ask to see it, but he refuses to show it to me. Afterward, he paces around the place, cracking his knuckles. I don't remember him ever being this nervous before.
“I had no idea that you were so interested in the job,” I say when he crawls into bed, completely exhausted.
"Actually, I am. I was thinking of all the articles that I could write and this is an amazing opportunity. He's putting together a new network and networks need writers. If I can only get this job…”
“What did you think of the dinner?” I ask.
“I think it went really well, don't you?”
“I do. Shockingly well,” I add.
He laughs. “Maybe they're just coming around? Just accepting the inevitable?”
“Which is, what exactly?” I ask.
“That I love you and you love me and we're going to be together forever.”
I smile and run my fingers up and down his chest. He flexes, pushing my hand up, and making me laugh.
"I love you very much," I say.
“I love you, too.”
“I hate fighting with you,” I say.
“Me, too," he says, leaning over and giving me a wet kiss.
“Let's not fight anymore,” I whisper into his ear.
“I won't if you won’t," he says, pressing his lips softly to my neck and moving closer and closer to my collarbone.
With one swift motion, he pushes me down onto the bed and I lose myself in his body.
21
Aurora
My mother calls me the following morning.
At first, I don't really want to answer, but then I think that it might have something to do with Henry's resume, so I do.
“Glad I was able to catch you," she says in a particularly chipper voice. “How's your day going?”
“Fine,” I mumble.
“Your classes?”
“Actually I don't have any classes today. I'm going to focus on writing my thesis.”
“Good, good," she says.
I can hear that she's distracted, or perhaps just waiting for the right opportunity to bring up whatever is on her mind.
“What's going on, Mom?"
“Well, since you asked,” she says slowly.
"I am calling about a particular issue.”
“Okay… does this have something to do with Henry?”
“Oh, sort of, I guess so. Well, no, not really.”
I don't say anything.
“Okay, why don't you just come out and say it? I'm all ears,” I say.
“Well, I need to ask you a favor.”
I wait for her to explain.
“I would like you to accompany one of your father's friends to the Callum Theater Gala this weekend.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I use that term friend loosely, as you know. Your father knows him and he's an acquaintance, and associate, but he's too young to be a close friend. He's closer in age to you actually.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, “but what does this have to do with me? Why can't he get his own date?”
My mother exhales with exasperation. “I don't know why you have to be so difficult.”
“Franklin Parks is going to be taking over the new crime division at Tate Media, the one that Henry has submitted his resume to, if you remember? Anyway, not to be so blunt, but Franklin will be making all final decisions regarding new hires.”
“Is that why you want me to be his date?”
“No, not at all. The thing is that we think that you should start taking a more active role in representing Tate Media at public functions.
“I know that you are not interested in working at the company at this point, but your father and I are both unable to attend this gala and our presence is greatly needed there. We have supported that theater for many years and they do a lot of good work there.
“Anyway, Franklin is going and we would also like you to get to know him a little better, so that you can give us input about the type of person who will be in charge of this new direction in the company.”
I swallow hard. I want to say no, but she has me between a rock and a hard place. “Okay…” I say slowly. “When is it?”
Dangerous Engagement Page 10
