by Jamie Howard
Was it only yesterday that we were giggling with each other, getting ready to graduate from law school? It felt like a lifetime ago.
As terrible as it was, touching her things, reminding myself over and over again that she wasn’t coming back, was the only thing I could think to do to help. The one thing I knew would make her mom fall apart if she had to do it. So I did it myself, even though it felt like poking at an open wound with a serrated knife. If there was one thing Bianca Easton had been trained for, it was how to keep a cool head and function in even the worst situations.
When all her drawers were emptied, I tackled the corkboard she had tacked above her desk. The entire face of it was overflowing with photographs, movie stubs, notes, and so many other random things. I kept everything, tucking it away in a small box.
Hiding beneath a stack of Yankees ticket stubs, I found something that tore the hole in my heart wide open. I removed the tack carefully from the edge of the notebook paper and tugged it down, smoothing the crinkled yellow paper beneath my fingers.
Make Every Day an Adventure
1. Hold a huge spider
2. Go skydiving
3. Buy the person behind me coffee
4. Live in NYC for six months on my own
5. Go camping (glamping does not count)
6. Send a message in a bottle
7. Spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square
8. Sing karaoke (“Hallelujah,” duh)
9. Crash a wedding, the bigger, the better
10. Milk a cow
11. Get a tattoo
12. Take a yoga class
13. Get a bikini wax
14. Ride on a motorcycle (bonus for hot biker)
15. Run up a down escalator
16. Save someone’s life
17. Go commando on a date
18. Bare my soul (to Bianca, probably)
19. Sit front row at a Yankees game
20. Get kissed at the top of a Ferris wheel
21. Get my palm read by a psychic
God, how had I forgotten about this list? My mind catapulted me back to that day, back to when we were naive little 1Ls drowning in a sea of homework. My bed was piled high with textbooks and notebooks, leaving me barely enough room to squeeze myself onto the mattress. Renée, on the other hand, only had one notebook, and she was staring down at it with a pencil clamped between her teeth. She gnawed up one side and down the other like it was corn on the cob.
After ten minutes of chomp-chomp-chomp, I’d finally had enough. “Oh my God. What are you doing?”
“What?” Her brow furrowed as she glanced up at me. She pointed down at her notebook. “This? Here, see for yourself.”
She tossed the notebook at me, which I barely managed to catch. I took one quick look at it. “This isn’t homework.”
“Obviously.”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “I have so much to do I’m not sure when I’m going to sleep, and you’re wasting your time on this?”
“That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” She grinned at me, the bright flash of white teeth contrasting with her tan skin.
I tossed the notebook back to her. “I don’t have time for this.”
“That’s my point!” She rocked up onto her knees, and a curtain of black hair fell over her shoulder. “We’re in law school. We’re never going to have time for anything anymore. But it’s just school. I love it, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, but it’s just a career.” She waved the notebook at me, the pages slapping against the cardboard backing. “I need to take every opportunity I can get to cram some awesomesauce in my days. It’s the little moments that make life amazing, you know?”
Tears splattered against the edge of the paper, drawing me back to the present. The fact that she’d never finish this list hit me in the chest like a freight train, and I couldn’t breathe. Her days weren’t mini-adventures anymore; they never would be again because her life was over. It wasn’t fair.
A knock on the door startled me, and I carefully refolded the list and stuffed it in my pocket. Two quick strides brought me to the door, and I was woefully unprepared for the look of devastation and despair that was written all over Victoria’s face.
“Oh, Bianca.”
With nothing else, she wrapped her arms around me, and I wasn’t quite sure who was holding onto whom tighter. We stayed like that for a while, supporting each other. It seemed I would never be done crying.
When she finally pulled away, her tear-stained face was as pale as my own. She glanced behind me, surveying the room. She took in the half-packed boxes that decorated Renée’s bed and the open drawers of her dresser.
She squeezed my hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah. I did.” I cleared my throat, but the words still seemed to stick in it, like the entire length was coated with glue. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to do with any of it, but I wanted to help.”
“Thank you.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked back a fresh onslaught of tears. “I can’t stay here, there are so many arrangements that need to be made. I don’t even know where to start.”
My stomach rolled at the word, but I pushed the nausea away. I turned away from her and grabbed my purse.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this all figured out.” I surprised myself with how firm and confident my voice was.
Victoria’s lip trembled and her chin followed suit. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you, Bianca.”
“You already did.” I offered her a small smile. “You gave me Renée.”
Chapter 3: Bianca
Numb.
The piercing pain that fractured my heart in two had finally subsided into an abstract throbbing. The pain was still there, it was always there and I knew it would be for a while, but it was duller somehow.
The funeral was heartbreaking, even through the haze of numbness. Students from Columbia Law packed into the tiny little church to pay their respects to Renée. Those who couldn’t fit inside lined the sidewalk, grasping thin white candles in remembrance. There were enough tears shed to fill an Olympic-sized pool.
I stood with Victoria through it all. It took hours to speak to everyone, to thank them for coming, and to listen to the kind words they had to say about Renée. If I was Columbia’s hermit, Renée was its social butterfly.
When the last person finally left, and it was just the two of us, she turned to me with a tired smile. “Thank you, dear, for staying with me.”
I gripped her hand tightly in mine. “You’re more than welcome.”
Her eyes dipped down to our hands and then back up. She tugged her hand out of my grasp and fished through her pocket, pulling out a small tarnished key. Turning my hand over, she dropped it there, and curled my fingers around it. The jagged edge dug into my palm, and I glanced up at her, my eyebrows knitting together.
“It’s the key to Renée’s apartment. It was going to be her graduation present.” She bit her lip. “I know my baby girl wanted to do it on her own, but I wanted to give her the time to do it right. It’s already paid up through December, so if you want it, it’s yours.”
All the words flew out of my brain, and I tried to grasp onto a coherent train of thought. “I’m flying back to Texas on Monday.”
Her lips twisted to the side, and she huffed out a breath. “Is that really what you want?”
The parallel between this conversation and the last one I had with Renée wasn’t lost on me. Her words rang through my head again: Promise me that you’ll live the life you want.
I kneaded my forehead with my fingertips, trying to think, trying to remember the last time anyone had actually asked me what I wanted. My life had always been laid out before me like stepping stones—Columbia Law, pass the bar, get married, make partner, be the perfect politician’s wife, have children, live happily ever after. It had been set out that way for so long that I couldn’t even imagine what another path might look like.
“I . . . I don’t
know.”
“Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to find out? I mean, really, in the big scheme of things, what are six measly little months?”
When she said it, it sounded so logical. What was wrong with taking a little time to figure out my life? Even the thought of taking the bar in two months made my brain rebel. How would I be able to focus? I honestly wasn’t sure what sin would be worse—not taking the test at the first opportunity, or taking it and doing miserably on it. “I could always wait and take the bar in February.”
“Of course you could. Anything worth doing is worth taking the time to get it right.”
I uncurled my fingers and gazed down at the key in my palm.
“You’ll stay?”
I pocketed the key, and my fingertips brushed the edges of Renée’s list that I carried with me. The fog that surrounded me lifted a little, and a new resolve filled me. Six months was nothing, just a drop in the bucket. Six months to heal, to dream, to remember, and most importantly, to do the things Renée would never get the chance to.
“I’ll stay.”
Chapter 4: Bianca
The morning following my monumental decision to stay in New York, I sent out an e-mail to Carlisle, Jennings & Drew. Their response was nearly immediate and more than understanding. Then again, my father’s name used to be painted on their doors, so their answer wasn’t any surprise. My position would be ready and waiting for me come February. I still wouldn’t know if I’d passed the bar by then, but there’d be plenty of work for me to do.
The next e-mail wasn’t nearly as easy to write. For anyone else, something as huge as this would have warranted a phone call, but not in my family. Pleasing my parents was like an addiction, a dangerous one that I couldn’t seem to quit. It didn’t matter that I was twenty-five and had been practically living on my own for years. I’d spent a lifetime with their expectations weighing down my shoulders, and I’d never been able to shrug them off.
I waited until all my bags and boxes had been delivered to the new apartment before I sent it, making my decision as final and irrevocable as possible. I set my phone down on the kitchen counter, ensuring my ringer was on.
It didn’t take long to unpack; Victoria had already furnished the entire apartment for Renée—from the small beige couch snuggled in the living room across from a flat screen TV, to the soft jade-colored rug warming the expanse of hardwood floors. Once all the drawers and closets were closed, there was barely any discernable difference from when I first walked in. Renée had always been the one to decorate our room, to give it the warmth and life that always made it feel so inviting.
Beyond my books and clothes, there were only two things that I really contributed to my new apartment—the silver picture frame holding a snapshot of Renée and me on the dresser and Renée’s list, which I’d stuck to the front of the refrigerator with a round coral magnet.
My phone chimed, signaling an incoming e-mail. I took a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth. Gripping the phone in my hand until the sides dug into my skin, I pulled open the message.
Bianca,
You must already be aware of the keen disappointment your decision has given us, so it seems unnecessary to elaborate further on it here. Since you seem so intent on experiencing your own independence, we think it only appropriate that you receive the full experience. Therefore, we have cancelled your credit card and as of tomorrow this cell phone will no longer be in service. Please forward us your new telephone number at your earliest convenience so that we may be able to reach you in case of emergency.
Regards,
Mom and Dad
My stomach rolled, and I thought I might be sick. I knew they would be angry at me, but they’d essentially cut me off. It wasn’t the thought of surviving without their money that made me want to curl up on the couch and pull a blanket over my head, it was that word—disappointment.
I’d lived my whole life to avoid that word. They wanted me to do well in school, so I’d been top of my class for as long as I could remember. They wanted me to take ballet, so I practiced until my feet bled to make sure I was the best. Learn a language? I spoke flawless French. Make sure my appearance was up to par? I avoided carbs like the plague. I was the perfect senator’s daughter—until now.
Panic bubbled up inside me, and I had to set my phone down and walk away from it to stop myself from giving in and hopping on the next plane home.
I made my way into the bathroom, my bare feet slapping against the gray tiles. I eyed myself down in the mirror. I was being ridiculous. I knew I was being ridiculous. I was an adult, one test away from becoming a lawyer, and the fact that my parents were disappointed in me for taking six months off from their plan nearly gave me a panic attack.
Jesus, I was so pathetic.
Leaning forward, I stared myself down.
“Six months. You can do this.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “For Renée.”
Chapter 5: Bianca
I had six months to finish off Renée’s list before my life would become consumed with resurrecting case law, and torts, and a million other things I’d shoved into my brain in the past three years. I was already on my way to checking off my first item, “live six months on my own in NYC,” and I supposed the first order of business to ensure that continued on its way—I needed a job.
Pausing on the sidewalk outside my apartment, I shoved my hands in my pockets and took a peek up and down the street. The job didn’t need to be anything extravagant, just enough to pay for food and a few utility bills. Something preferably within walking distance so that I didn’t need to drop any money on transportation. And absolutely nothing law-related. I just needed something simple, something that would give me plenty of time to inject some adventure into my days.
After swinging by the Corner Café for a large helping of caffeine, I decided to do this the easy way—by walking around and seeing if anyone was looking to hire someone with a law degree tucked in their belt and absolutely no work experience to go with it.
I struck out at the local art gallery, then again at the neighborhood book store. I gave it another shot at the florist, the post office, and a hardware store. No bites.
Blowing an errant strand of hair out of my eyes, I shifted my weight off my left foot where a lovely blister was starting to form on my heel. My reflection mocked me in the storefront window of the Blackrose Pub. You can do this, Bianca. Your team killed it in the mock trial competition, surely you can manage to convince this guy you can take orders and carry some plates.
With a sigh, I pushed open the door. The air conditioning was blasting, sending a wave of goosebumps up my bare arms. Hugging my arms across my chest, I stepped up to the empty hostess stand and waited.
“What do you mean she quit?” A voice yelled from somewhere in the back of the room.
“Exactly what I said, Mick.” The owner of that voice was female, and she pushed through the back door and into the dining room area. The dim lighting flickered across her blue-streaked black hair as she stomped across the aged wood floors.
Mick came right through behind her, his oversized abdomen straining against his green T-shirt. He opened his mouth and then promptly shut it when he spied me. Ambling over, he swiped a hand over his cropped black hair. “Table for one?”
“No, thank you. I was actually wondering if you might be hiring?” I straightened my spine and offered him a friendly, competent smile.
He doubled over laughing, and the blue-haired girl sauntered over to him.
“Calm down before you give yourself a hernia.”
He shook his head. “Did you hear this one? She came here looking for a job.”
“A simple ‘we’re not hiring’ would be perfectly acceptable,” I said sharply.
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, a feisty one.”
“Christ, that’s not what I meant.” He shook his head. “Your timing is impeccable. Harper here was just telling me that we’re short one waitress d
ue to an impromptu move.”
“So, you are hiring?” I started to have second thoughts on whether I actually wanted to take the job, even if they were hiring.
“Well, that depends,” he said.
“On?”
“Whether you can start right now.”
Chapter 6: Bianca
Two weeks disappeared before I knew it. Other than work, the only thing I accomplished was to increase my completion percentage on the only list item I’d attempted, simply by continuing to live in NYC.
Score.
Slipping into a pair of jeans and my black work polo, I made my way over to the refrigerator, pinning the bottom corner of the list underneath my thumb. Just seeing Renée’s messy scrawl made a fresh ache bloom in my chest. It was why I’d been avoiding looking at it. But by doing that I was failing her, wasting the days she’d never have.
No more stalling. I was doing this. I ran a finger over the crinkled paper, then double-tapped number three—buy the person behind me coffee. That seemed simple enough, and completely harmless.
What in the world did Renée want to buy coffee for some random person for? A random act of kindness? I tipped my head to the side. No, it was probably some sort of pickup line disguised as a random act of kindness. What it probably should have said was: “Buy the hot guy behind me coffee.” That seemed more her style.
A smile ghosted across my lips with the thought, and a corresponding pang trespassed across my heart. God, I missed her. Grabbing my key ring from the Formica counter, I made my way outside, skipping down the front steps.
The breeze held the fresh warmth of early summer, and I took a deep breath of clean air—well, mostly clean air with a lovely hint of car exhaust. Jogging across the street, I pulled open the door to the Corner Café and stepped in line.
