Taking It All

by J. J. Bella

  That's another thing about Sam: he loved women, and women loved him right back. Sometimes it seemed like he couldn't go more than five feet without making a pass at a girl, and it didn't seem to matter if I noticed.

  "Thinking of taking the waitress out back for a little dessert?" I asked.

  "Just having a laugh," he said, not bothered in the slightest. "I don't mean anything by it."

  More typical Sam, disregarding my feelings when he didn't think they were worth worrying about.

  "Besides," he said, reaching over and taking my hand into his as he flashed me another killer smile, "what you and I've got is so wonderful that the idea of any other girl is silly in comparison."

  And finally, even more typical Sam. He seemed to know just what to say to get me to forget any misgivings about his behavior.

  We finished up our meal and headed over to a nearby bar where we met up with some of his friends from the service industry. There were about seven people in total, four boys and three girls, and the girls reacted in the manner that I'd grown accustomed to with Sam: looking first at him with big, eager doe eyes and then at me with the cutting stares of catty women sizing up their competition. We had a couple of rounds, and as the evening went on I noticed that Sam was spending quite a bit of time chatting with one of the girls, a heavily-made-up little blonde in a tight black dress. But I put it out of my head, thinking that it was just my usual jealousy flaring up.

  "OK," said Sam, standing up. "I think it's about time we headed off to someplace a little more exciting."

  The girls' eyes stayed locked on him as he spoke; he just had a way with women that no one could ignore.

  So, we finished our drinks and headed over to Sam's bar, which is where I seemed to end up most of these nights. It sounds silly, but I couldn't help but love the way Sam was treated like a celebrity there- the bouncer let us cut through the line, the bartenders hooked us up with drinks and shots, and everyone there seemed to know him.

  And so did every woman, of course.

  Drinks in hand, our little group broke up and headed onto the dance floor. Strangely, despite how often I came here, I'd never quite warmed up to the nightclub scene. I thought back to Anna at home, comfy in her pajamas and working on her projects, and I couldn't help but feel a little envy. But as I watched Sam saunter into the center of the dance floor and become the center of attention as usual, I realized that he cast a spell on me, a spell that made me almost forget exactly who I was.

  Recognizing that I was doing my wallflower thing, Sam reached towards me and pulled me into the thrumming mass of dancers, the music deafening around us. He brought me close to him as we danced, and just like with him on the bike, everything else around us seemed to drift away until it was just him, me, and the music.

  But the feeling was fleeting, as always, and once the attention of the girls around us fell onto him as it always did, I melted back into the crowd, Sam disappearing among the dancers.

  Making my way back to the bar, I took a seat, put my head in my hands, and considered everything that I had on my mind. Everything seemed to be back-and-forth with Sam- one moment he was dancing with me, looking at me like I was the only girl in the world, and the next he was flitting from one tramp to the next, basking in their adoration. One moment he would show a flash of the brilliance that could take him wherever he wanted in this world, the next he was living for the moment, caring nothing about drinking and partying.

  It was just too much.

  I finished my drink and ordered another, letting the minutes trickle away as I sipped and thought about my life to this point, and what I wanted for my future. I wanted Sam, I knew that, but was there any way to make him a part of the sort of life that I wanted for myself?

  Then, like a flash of lightning, it occurred to me: I needed to talk to him.

  Why hadn't it occurred to me before? There was so much that I needed to discuss with Sam, and all I was doing was burying it deep inside and hoping that he would figure me out. But that was silly; I needed to be an adult, and I needed to have a serious talk with him about our future together.

  And it had to be tonight.

  Finishing my drink, I felt a newfound sense of determination. I was ready to lay things out with Sam, to tell him that I loved him, and that I wanted us to have a future together. But there would be terms and conditions, of course. I'd have to make more time for my studies, and he couldn't tempt me every night with rides on his bike and nights out at clubs. I had to be serious, to remember that I'm an adult.

  Maybe I'd even be able to lead by example, to bring him back over to the world of adult responsibilities. Maybe he'd even re-enroll in Oxford. Maybe we could get be rich and successful together, getting married and buying a flat on the Thames, possibly even having a few kids someday. Maybe, just maybe, I could have everything I wanted.

  How painfully, painfully naive I was.

  Scanning the thick crowd of the dance floor, I looked for Sam's blond hair, but I couldn't spot it anywhere. Steeling myself, I ducked into the crowd and searched around for familiar faces. One by one, I found the other members of the group that we'd arrived here with, and asked them if they'd seen Sam. Each one responded with a shrug.

  But one member of the group was noticeably absent: the blonde girl with the heavy makeup.

  At the time, I thought nothing of it. Instead, I continued to scan the crowd for any sign of Sam. I looked and looked, but didn't find any trace of him.

  Then it hit me: the spot upstairs, on the roof.

  I don't know how, but I knew that he had to be there. Snaking through the crowd, I made my way to the back door. I took a quick look around to make sure that I wasn't being watched, opened the door and stepped through. As I went up the stairs, I rehearsed all the things that I was going to say to Sam, about how we'd both have to put in work if this relationship was going to be the success that I knew it could be. My words were perfectly formed in my mind, and I was ready to say my piece. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I took one last deep breath and opened the door leading to the roof.

  I wasn't ready in the slightest for what I saw next.

  It was Sam, alright, sitting on the edge of the roof. But he wasn't alone, not at all- he was with the blonde, his hand running through her hair as he brought her in for a kiss.

  But right as their lips were about to touch, they heard the sound of the door open and shut.

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I felt sick and horrified and heartbroken all at the same time.

  "What the fuck is going on here?" I demanded, my voice coming out in a shrill squeak.

  "Babe!" shouted Sam, pulling his hand out from the blonde's hair and standing up. "It's-"

  "If you even think about saying ‘it's not what it looks like' I swear to God I'll push you over that roof."

  "Then…I won't say that."

  My eyes flicked over to the girl, who was wearing a smug little expression on her gorgeous, stupid face, one that seemed to suggest that she was relishing her little victory.

  I didn't know what to say, what to think, what to feel. My gut felt like someone had slipped a hot knife into it, and my vision grew blurry. All I could do was what I did next, which was turn and run. I stormed down the stairs, holding back the tears that threatened to burst forth at any moment. My shoes clomped down the stairs and I heard the door open above me.

  "Babe, wait!" called Sam.

  But my desire to say even a word to Sam was gone, gone, gone. I rushed down the stairs and back onto the dance floor, rushing through the crowd and hoping to lose him. Once through the crowd, I hurried to the exit and into the throngs of pedestrians.

  Once down the sidewalk, I turned back one last time just in time to see Sam emerge from the club and search around eagerly for me. But it was too late; I was off with the crowd. I knew at that moment that I'd never see him again.

  And as I rushed home the tears that I'd been holding back came out in torrents, the falling snow landing on my cr
ying eyes, the flakes stinging as I ran back home on that cold, London night.

  CHAPTER 3

  MARY

  Five years later…

  It'd been years since I'd heard the chiming of Big Ben, and the first time I heard it ring out at noon, cutting through the still, spring London air, it brought me back instantly to memories of five years ago, when I'd come here for my year at the London School of Economics.

  And what a year it was.

  After the year was complete, my grades stellar after a brief brush with catastrophe, I returned to the states and finished my undergrad at the University of Iowa. Once done there, my grades bolstered by the project that I'd participated in with Professor Jenson back in London, I applied, and was accepted, to Harvard School of Business. I remember reading the letter that informed me of my acceptance, holding the piece of paper to my chest, feeling as though I might awake from this dream at any moment. But it was as real as it gets.

  I moved to Massachusetts that summer, and what followed were two of the most difficult, intellectually taxing years of my life. There were times when I felt I might not make it through to the end, but at the cost of nearly every trace of my social and dating life, I managed to cross the finish line, MBA in hand.

  And all throughout my years at school, one goal was fixed in my mind: to return to London. Sure, Boston had its charm, and the states would always be my home, but I couldn't shake the calling back to London that seemed to tug at my very heart. I had raw memories from my relationship with Sam, but everything else about my year there was dear to me; I knew I had to go back. It was like an itch that would only get worse the more I tried to pretend it wasn't there.

  So, once the final year at Harvard drew to a close and I became certain that I was going to graduate after all, I began putting in applications to whatever companies I could find in the city. I was certain that I'd be able to find something, anything, but competition was fierce, and native Brits had hiring preference. Just when hope began to fade, however, I received an email from Langdon Holdings, one of the most respected financial firms in the city, informing me that they would be interested in bringing me on board on a provisional basis. I couldn't believe my luck.

  I told them I would love to work for them, of course, and they were kind enough to provide me with a temporary apartment until I got my bearings. London wasn't exactly the cheapest place to live in the world, to put it very, very mildly, so a boon like this was more than I could've hoped for. I said my goodbyes to my friends and family, and headed off again for another adventure in the old country.

  And now, here I was, sitting back in one of the coffee shops where I'd done my studying so many years ago.

  "Mary, Mary, quite contrary!"

  The familiar voice cut through the quiet ambiance of the coffee shop. Looking up, I saw the familiar, beaming face of Anna, my roommate from so many years ago. We'd stayed in touch here and there over the years, but once I learned that I was going to be back in the city, I dropped her a line and let her know. She was more than eager to meet up.

  She strode towards me, decked hair to toe in hip, fancy clothes, expensive jewelry dangling from her ears and neck that jangled as she walked. Once she reached me she threw her arms around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

  "Oh my God, it's so good to see you," she said in that posh accent of hers. "We have to catch up; I can't believe how long it's been."

  "I know!" I said, her enthusiasm infecting me and bringing a broad smile to my face. "I'll get the tea."

  "Earl Gray," she said, giving me a wink and a finger gun.

  Moments later, I returned with a hot black kettle of water and two white, ceramic mugs. I poured the tea and as the aroma of the drink wafted up to my nose I was brought back instantly to those cozy afternoons with Anna, sipping tea in our living room in our flat in Bloomsbury, chatting about school, friends, and everything else.

  "Like Proust's Madeleines, is it not?" said Anna, bringing her steaming mug to her face and taking in a long sniff.

  "The what's what?" I asked.

  "Proust, the author," she said. "He said that smell and memory are quite intimately linked. In his case, the smell of Madeline cookies dunked in tea was enough to instantly bring him back to his childhood."

  I smiled, knowing that she and I were on the same page.

  "Not much time for literature in business school," I said, sipping my tea.

  "Ah, that's right!" said Anna. "The Harvard girl. Back to the city, degree in hand, ready to conquer our humble little island."

  I couldn't help but blush.

  "I'd be happy to start with a flat that doesn't cost half of my salary."

  Anna scoffed. "Good luck with that. You're damn near going to have to sell a kidney to be able to afford anything more than a sock drawer in this town.”

  It was strange; I got the impression that she was speaking from experience.

  "Now, you know I don't like giving you shit about your rich parents. But…"

  "There's nothing to give a shit about, I'm afraid."

  "Oh?"

  Anna nodded grimly. "Once I graduated, my parents decided that the time for their little girl to live off their dime was over. They stuck a little graduation gift in my pocket –enough for no more than a few months’ rent- and told me that it was time for me to make my own way."

  "So, the rich girl's one of us, now," I said with a wry smile.

  "Please, don't kick a girl when she's down. I got my degree thinking that I'd have a little bit of a helping hand until I got my bearings, and now that I'm done with my MFA program I'm scrambling to get a portfolio together, big dreams in my eyes about maybe being able to sell some freelance work to whatever advertising firm would take me."

  "Hey, it'll give you character," I said. "Nothing wrong with a little struggle here and there."

  "I'd like to keep my life as struggle-free as possible, thank you very much," she said with a pout. "Just never thought I'd have to worry about making rent."

  "Then again, ‘watching roaches climb up the wall/you call your dad, he could stop it all'," I said, unable to hold back a wry grin of my own.

  "Clever girl," said Anna with a narrow-eyed smile.

  "Hey, you're not the only one who can make high-brow cultural references."

  Anna gave me a playful kick under the table.

  "You might very well be right, but I've got my pride, you know. And I'd like to prevent having to crawl to daddy for rent money for as long as possible."

  "Hm," I said. "And where are you living now?"

  "On a friend's couch in Kensington. A very rich friend whose patience with me is growing quite thin, I might add."

  A thought occurred to me.

  "Well…" I started, "…the apartment that Langford Holdings set up for me is pretty big for a one bedroom. You could crash there until you find something a little more suited to your oh-so-posh tastes."

  I flashed her a smile.

  "That…could work," she said. "After all, we did have quite a bit of success with the roommate situation before."

  Anna looked away in thought for a brief moment before turning back to be.

  "Oh hell- let's do it!"

  We both let out the same embarrassing, excited squeal.

  "You can come over tonight," I said.

  "And when's the first day at this new job of yours?" she asked.

  "Tomorrow morning," I said, my stomach tightening in anxiety at the thought of it.

  "Oh my," said Anna, her eyes widening. "But I wouldn't worry about it one bit. I'm sure you'll do a smashing job."

  We finished our tea and headed off to a nearby sandwich shop where we ate and caught up. When we parted, I gave her my address and told her to come by anytime tonight. She must've really been eager to leave her place, because by the time I arrived home after doing a bit of grocery shopping, I was greeted by the sight of Anna standing at my stoop, flanked by a pair of designer suitcases, that same beaming, confident smile on her face. I
helped her up the stairs and led her into the humble, but cozy apartment that Langford Holdings had set up for me.

  "This work for you?" I asked, dropping one of her bags on the floor.

  "Darling, it's a place to sleep and isn't in some back alley- it's wonderful."

  I helped her get situated, and by the time we were done the evening was already well on.

  "A little housewarming present?" Anna asked, slipping a bottle of her parent's wine out of one of her bags.

  A quick internal debate later, I was game.

  "Sure," I said. "But only one glass. I do have something going on tomorrow, after all."

  "Naturally," said Anna.

  She filled a pair of glasses and sat back in her seat, an expectant look on her face.

  "What?" I asked.

  "I do have a question for you," she asked, a scheming little smile on her face.

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "Have you, perchance, spoken to our little friend Sam during these last several years?"

  The name was like a little jab in the gut. I hated to admit it, but there was still some rawness with that situation.

  "Not a word," I said. "I saw him about to kiss that little skank, and that was all I needed to know about that."

  Anna's little smirk didn't budge a millimeter.

  "You know I don't believe that one bit, right?"

  I took a long sip of wine.

  "I mean, sure, I was kind of into him…"

  "…Kind of?" asked Anna. "You were gaga for that boy."

  "Fine," I conceded. "Maybe I was a little gaga. But he cheated on me, and that's that."

  "You can keep saying that all you like…"

  "I know, I know," I said. "Why do you ask? Have you seen him recently or something?"

  As soon as the words left my mouth I realized that they'd been shot out in an excited tone. I almost wanted to clasp my hands over my mouth and prevent anything else from slipping out.

  "No, I haven't- and that's the thing."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, after you and he broke up, he sort of…dropped off the map. I went to his bar every now and then, and I never once saw him there, either as a patron or an employee. I asked around a bit after you went back to the states and his friends all said that he just up and vanished one day. And his old number just went to a dead line. Neither hide nor hair, as you yanks say."