Katwalk

by Maria Murnane

  “Right.”

  “But we never do anything about it, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time. Maybe we should quit.”

  “You’re really serious?”

  “Yes. I mean, why not? We’re not married. We don’t have kids. Neither one of us is even dating anyone right now. What are we waiting for? Let’s quit and go do something adventurous before it’s too late.”

  Katrina opened up another pod and thought about what her friend was proposing.

  Quit and go do something adventurous before it’s too late.

  She wondered what her parents would think of that idea. As the only daughter of two overachievers who valued a person’s work ethic above all else, the importance of getting a practical education had been ingrained in her since her days in a crib.

  You need to be able to support yourself, Katrina.

  Majoring in art history isn’t going to pay the bills, Katrina.

  You need to get your head out of the clouds, Katrina.

  You can’t expect a man to come along and rescue you, Katrina.

  So getting a practical education was exactly what she’d done. She’d chosen a major that would lead to a steady job, a predictable career path, a growing nest egg, and, eventually, a mortgage. She’d done everything the right way.

  The safe way.

  The responsible way.

  The boring way.

  Until that moment.

  She looked at Deb. “You really think we should do it?”

  “I do.”

  “What would we do?”

  Deb shrugged. “I don’t know. We could go somewhere.”

  “Could you be more specific?”

  Deb downed her sake. “I don’t care. The beach. The mountains. The moon. Anywhere but Mountain View. I’ve had enough of Mountain View.” She set down the cup and tapped her palms against the table. “Wait. I’ve got it! Let’s go live in New York for a while.”

  “New York?”

  “Yes. Why not? You know what they say, right? Everyone should live in New York at least once.”

  “Who says that?”

  “I don’t know. People.”

  “For how long?”

  Deb picked up Katrina’s sake and downed it too, then set the cup on the table and tapped her chin with her finger. “I don’t know . . . a month? Maybe two? Two months sounds good. Yes, let’s do two.”

  Katrina’s eyes got big. “Two months? Are you joking?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “No.”

  “So there’s your answer.” She pointed to herself and shook her head. “Me. Not joking.”

  “Two months is a long time, Deb.”

  Deb waved a hand in front of her. “Please. It will fly by. If you want, you can sublet your place here to cover the rent.” Deb never seemed to worry about money the way Katrina did. But then again, she didn’t really need to. Her grandparents had made sure of that.

  Katrina took a sip of water and considered the idea. Scary as it sounded, maybe Deb was right; maybe she could break out of her shell. Plus she hadn’t had an extended vacation in ages. She’d started her job at the agency immediately after graduating from college, when most of her peers had gone traveling or at least taken the summer off to unwind after four years of books and exams. Why wait to begin working? her dad had said. You’ve got to start supporting yourself, her mother had agreed.

  Katrina had listened to her parents, albeit reluctantly, and as a result, outside of one family trip to Washington, DC—which, frankly, had felt more like school than a vacation, given how structured it had been—she had never even left California. She’d gone to college just down the road from home, earned a degree in accounting—with honors—then had taken the job with the advertising agency and become a full-time number cruncher barely one week after graduation.

  “Are you with me?” Deb extended her hand.

  Katrina hesitated.

  “Well?” Deb kept her hand out.

  Katrina stared at the edamame bowl and thought about the pit she felt in her stomach whenever someone asked her what she did for a living. She’d been unhappy in her job for a long time, but for some reason it had never occurred to her to quit.

  Not even once.

  Quitting would be so . . . unlike her.

  Deb was staring at her, her hand still extended. “You can do it, Katrina. I know you can. It would be good for you to take a chance for once, to try something outside of that safe little bubble you live in.”

  Katrina knew her friend was right, but she hesitated.

  “Come on, you know I’m right,” Deb said. “And I say that thing about your bubble with love, by the way.”

  “I know you do.”

  Deb raised one eyebrow. “So what do you think? Are you in?”

  Katrina took a deep breath.

  Maybe this is just what I need.

  She sat up straight and shook her best friend’s hand.

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Deb finally came rushing up to the table nearly thirty minutes late. “Things got a little crazy at the office.” She took off her jacket and sat down, then looked around for the waiter. “I’m dying for a stiff drink.”

  Katrina took a sip of Sprite and held up her guidebook. “No worries. I’ve been reading about all sorts of cool things we could do in New York. Did you know that in Central Park there’s a—”

  Deb put her hand on Katrina’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

  Katrina froze, then squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh no. Don’t tell me.”

  Deb kept her hand on Katrina’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Katrina was silent for a few moments, then opened her eyes and looked at her friend with a sigh. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Deb stood up. “Let me get that drink first.” She hurried over to the bar.

  Flush with panic, Katrina’s mind began to race.

  Is this really happening?

  Is the rug really being pulled out from under me?

  I just quit my job.

  Her foot began to tap as one thought leaped in front of all the others.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  Deb returned, then pressed her palms against her temples for a moment before speaking. “Okay, here’s what went down. When I told my boss I was quitting, he offered me a big raise, right then and there. He didn’t even hesitate.”

  Katrina raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yes, along with that promotion I’ve been wanting for like a year. He said he’d been planning to promote me at my next review anyway. Then he told me how he and all the other higher-ups expect me to be running my department one day.”

  “But I thought he didn’t like you.”

  “I did too, which is why I was so surprised. I thought he had it in for me, but you should have heard him when I told him I was quitting. He went on and on about how good I am at my job, finally showing me the respect and appreciation I’ve wanted for so long. He sounded so sincere I couldn’t help but believe him. He was close to groveling, Katrina.”

  “Why didn’t he ever tell you any of that before?”

  Deb lifted up her hands. “I know! Typical man. They never appreciate what they’ve got until they’re about to lose it, just like most of my ex-boyfriends. Anyhow, after he said all that, I couldn’t turn him down. I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry.” She made a pained face.

  Just then the waiter appeared with Deb’s drink, a vodka martini. She immediately took an enormous sip—or gulp. “So do you hate me? If I were you, I think I might hate me.”

  Katrina didn’t reply. Instead, she straightened up the coaster stack, which didn’t need straightening.

&
nbsp; “Will you please say something? Even I hate you would be better than nothing right now.”

  “Of course I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m just disappointed that our big plan has sort of . . . imploded.” The truth was, Katrina was devastated, but she didn’t want Deb to know that. She didn’t want her to know that she was paralyzed with fear. At least before, she’d had a plan. Now she had . . . nothing.

  But what was done was done, and she didn’t want her friend to feel any worse than she already did, so she maintained her polite exterior.

  “I’m so sorry, Katrina. I truly thought they were never going to promote me. If I’d suspected there was even a baby chance they would counteroffer like that, I wouldn’t have let you quit your job. I never imagined it would turn out like this.”

  “It’s okay. I know how much you wanted that promotion.” She also knew that despite Deb’s occasional gripe about not being appreciated by her boss, she enjoyed her event-planning job and was generally happy with her career choice. Katrina, on the other hand, couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually looked forward to going to work. Had she ever?

  She certainly wouldn’t be going to work tomorrow. She’d already cleaned out her cubicle and said good-bye to her coworkers—neither of which had taken very long—and turned in her security badge.

  Plus she didn’t want to go back anyway. On that she was clear.

  The question was, what would she do now? She knew she could probably find another accounting job in no time if she put her mind to it, but she had already sublet her place to a friend of a friend of Deb’s, a freelance writer from San Diego who was all set to move in on Monday. Plus she and Deb had already paid for the apartment they’d rented in Manhattan, beginning Tuesday, and it hadn’t been cheap. Rearranging everything at the last minute was going to be not only complicated but expensive.

  “Katrina? Are you there? What’s going on inside that smart head of yours?” Deb snapped her fingers in the air between them.

  Katrina blinked and realized she was tapping her foot again.

  “I hope you’re not thinking of ways to poison me,” Deb said.

  Katrina tried not to laugh as she took another sip of her Sprite. “I’m not exactly thrilled with you at the moment, but I’ll get over it. I guess I’ll just need to find a new job a little faster than I’d planned to. And a place to live until Thanksgiving.”

  “Why don’t you go without me?”

  “Go live in New York for two months alone?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Are you crazy? Do you even know me?”

  “Do I look like I’m crazy? People go traveling by themselves all the time. Why can’t you?”

  “Sure, other people go traveling by themselves. I can’t even go to the movies by myself. You know that.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a little bit. You’re almost thirty years old. Time to spread those wings.”

  Katrina stirred the ice in her drink with the straw. “I’ve never gone anywhere alone for even a weekend. There’s no way I could spend two months in New York City by myself.”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “I don’t know anyone there.”

  “You’d meet people.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not overcome with panic every time you walk into a roomful of strangers.”

  “You’re not as shy as you think you are.”

  Katrina felt herself stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that for whatever reason you tell yourself that you’re shy, and then, unfortunately, you actually listen to yourself. You don’t have to listen to that, you know.”

  “Again, easy for you to say. You’re not me. And besides, going across the country by myself isn’t quite what I had in mind when I signed up for this little adventure.”

  Deb picked up her drink. “I know going without me is light-years out of your comfort zone, but I’m just saying that you should think about it. You’ve already taken such a huge step by quitting your job. Wouldn’t it be a shame to get another one right away instead of using this time off to do . . . something?”

  Katrina shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  She smiled weakly. “Okay, definitely.”

  “There you go. And it’s not like you wanted to stay at your job anyway, right? I mean, would you want to go back there tomorrow if you could? Even if they offered you a promotion?”

  Katrina answered without hesitation. “No.”

  “See? So this is for the best, no matter what happens next.”

  “I know, I know. All of this is just . . . scary.”

  “Life is scary. But that’s what makes it so exciting, right? And for the record, I’m still paying for my half of the apartment, so if you decide to go, don’t worry about that. I may be ditching you, but I’m not screwing you.”

  Katrina laughed. “You always have a way of making yourself come out of every situation smelling like a rose, did you know that?”

  Deb bowed her head in thanks. “What can I say? It’s from all those country-club lunches my grandparents used to drag me to. The ability to schmooze comes in handy in a pinch. So you’ll think about it? And if you do it, I’ll try to come visit you for a weekend.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “And you don’t hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Promise?”

  Katrina shook her head, then picked up a menu and whapped Deb lightly on the back of the head with it. “I promise. I could never hate you. But you’re definitely buying me dinner tonight.”

  Chapter Two

  After dinner, Katrina hugged Deb good-bye, then took her time walking home. Still trying to come to terms with the wrench that had been thrown into a meticulously constructed plan, she trudged up the stairs to the second floor.

  Quit job, check.

  Find place to live in New York, check.

  Sublet apartment here, check.

  Make airline reservations, check.

  Figure out what to do now . . . ugh.

  Once inside her apartment, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, sat down cross-legged on the couch, and tried to picture herself in New York City.

  Living in New York City.

  Alone.

  So alone.

  Deb could never understand why Katrina had such trouble making new friends, especially because she worked at an advertising agency full of creative, sociable people. Just chat them up, she’d always say. They’re just people. As if it were that easy. It had been ages since Katrina had felt comfortable making new friends. Thank God for Deb, who had been her best buddy since first grade.

  Katrina hadn’t always felt so awkward. Up through eighth grade, she’d been as outgoing as the next kid, with many friends in addition to Deb. But everything had changed when it came time to start high school. Her parents, consumed with preparing her for the future, had decided to enroll her in a private all-girls’ school, and suddenly she had to start all over again. The student body was comprised mainly of outrageously wealthy girls who had been there since sixth grade, so from day one Katrina had felt like the only one lacking a tight-knit circle of friends. Without bubbly Deb by her side for the first time in her life, she was insecure. She wanted to make new friends, but she had never really learned how. She was always friendly when spoken to, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that people thought of her as the shy girl who didn’t quite fit in. It didn’t help that her new classmates inhabited a world unlike anything she’d ever known.

  Trust funds.

  Luxury cars from Daddy on their sixteenth birthday.

  Ski trips to Sun Valley or Jackson Hole, if not the French Alps.

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sp; Long weekends in Palm Springs.

  Shopping trips along Rodeo Drive.

  And with the bank accounts came a sense of entitlement and confidence that permeated the entire campus.

  Deb could have held her own with these girls, but not Katrina.

  Daunted by the cliques and inside jokes about vacation resorts she’d never visited and designer brands she couldn’t afford, she didn’t have the courage to sit down with anyone at lunchtime. Conspicuously alone one too many times, she began passing the hour in the library.

  By herself.

  Then one day she just stopped caring—or trying.

  Instead, she put her head in her books and studied, spending most of her free time focusing on her homework. Almost before she knew it, freshman year turned into sophomore year, and so on and so on. When she graduated, she did so with a straight-A average but no truly meaningful friendships.

  Her shyness abated somewhat in college, when she realized that no one knew—much less cared—what she had been like in high school. But it never disappeared entirely, because she knew.

  She looked around her immaculate, minimalist living room. Would the subletter take good care of it? She hoped so. Deb had said he was neat, but she and Deb didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the definition of neat.

  She picked a tiny piece of fuzz off the couch, then closed her eyes.

  Am I really too afraid to go to New York on my own?

  Too scared to try something new?

  Is this the person I want to be?

  She thought of what Deb had said earlier: You’re not as shy as you think you are.

  For years Katrina had been telling herself she was misunderstood because of her shyness, but she wasn’t sure about that anymore. While it was true that no one had made much of an effort to approach her back in school, how approachable had she made herself by hiding out in the library? Or, later, by declining social invitations at work? How much of her loneliness and isolation had she created, however inadvertently, over the years?

  Maybe it was time to stop making excuses.

  She glanced at her laptop on the kitchen table.