Not Enough Time

I am falling apart at the seams, save me, save me please?
I thought you said you didn’t need saving. Said you could save yourself.
That was before. This is now.
You’re not desperate enough.

[There are some dreams that cannot be salvaged. Because they never existed.]

The steps to 30 Reading Street was covered in filmy moss. When Katie climbed them she almost slipped, but years of subway-riding training gave her the quick reflexes to steady herself and keep on going.

“Careful there,” Nick said. He held out his hand, hovered behind her back.

“Don’t worry about me,” Katie said. “I’m fine.”

She reached over and pressed the doorbell. No sound came from inside, and Katie wondered if she should press it again, or knock on the door. Would it be too rude? She stared at her reflection in the glass.

Perfectly groomed hair. Make-up applied so seamlessly they were dreamy. A neat cardigan over a navy cotton dress and ballerina flats. Her appearance was so youthful and carefree she thought she could almost mask the haunted look in her eyes.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Amanda’s weary eyes replaced Katie’s from behind the glass.

“What do you want?” They both said at the same time.

“Am I that predictable?” Amanda asked, a half-smile on her face.

Katie returned it with more optimism than she thought she had. “It is partly my fault. I usually only call on you when I need something.”

“Well then. How are you?”

“Good, good. How are you? How is Nick?”

“He is good,” Amanda and Nick said at the same time. Except this time, Amanda did not react. Katie shot him a dark look before turning back to Amanda.

“I am glad to hear that. You are good too?”

“Yes,” Amanda said. “Yes, I am.”

They stood a while like that, in silence. Katie remotely remembered why she never called upon Amanda. She pulled up a smile again and said, “Want to go get coffee with me some afternoon? I have a really flexible schedule now, and I get most afternoons off.”

“You don’t have a schedule anymore,” Nick said. “You don’t even work anymore.”

Amanda said, “That sounds nice. I am free Wednesday afternoons, and Nick does not get home until late. It is nearing dinner-time today, so maybe next Wednesday?”

“Yes, that would be great,” Katie said. “Absolutely lovely.” Absolutely fucking lovely, but she managed to cut off the curse. Nick should be proud.

The conversation fell into another lull. This time, Amanda smiled. “No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” Katie said.

None at all.

“Yes, no hard feelings,” Nick said, and laughed. That dry, hacking laugh. “Wish her a happy marriage. I dare you.”

“I hope you will be happy with Nick,” Katie said. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I was afraid—well, forgive me, but with your history with Nick, I was afraid that you might be upset at the news.”

“No, not at all. I am happy for you.”

“Well, thank you again. I hope you will come to the ceremony? I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but Jessie really wanted—”

“That is not a problem,” Katie said. “I would hate to be so responsible anyway.”

“But the ceremony?”

“Yes, I will. I have to go now, but next Wednesday at Miguel’s café?”

“Of course.”

“Good bye.”

“Good bye.”

The door closed, and Katie was left with her reflection again. The hair still unruffled. The make-up pristine. Her outfit as cheerful and preppy as before. Her eyes just as hollow, but she was glad Amanda was not too perceptive.

Katie went down the steps, taking care not to slip on the moss again. She asked, “Why didn’t you clean this place up?”

“Not my problem,” Nick said. “Amanda can do it if she wanted.”

“She is your fiancée.”

“She is.”

“So what if she slips and falls? What if she gets hurt? You still won’t do it?”

“You were pretty gutsy back there,” Nick said. “I thought you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Don’t change the topic,” Katie said.

“I’m—”

A sky-blue car pulled up in the driveway in front of her. The door opened, and Nick stepped out. He just stood there, staring at Katie, and she could see something in his eyes that she often saw in her own.

“Hey, Nick,” she said.

“Katie,” Nick said. His voice did not have that sardonic tone anymore. It was more subdued, with an edge in it that made Katie’s throat contract. “What are you doing here?”

“I was visiting Amanda. She is my friend, you know.”

Nick cringed, and Katie knew what he was thinking. That drunken night she had called Amanda on a dare, the night she had introduced Nick to her. Because “you don’t have any decent friends,” as Nick had said.

“Yes, she is your friend,” Nick said. “I would have never known that.”

“I had forgotten that,” Nick said. “How are you then?”

“Good. Good enough,” Katie said. “How are you?”

“Good,” Nick said.

“Good,” Nick said.

One with contempt. One with hesitance.

“Amanda invited me to your wedding,” Katie said. “I hope everything goes well. Don’t drink too much—I don’t think she would be happy to wait by the toilet for you to finish throwing up.”

“Thank you.” The other Nick did not say anything.

“You’re welcome.”

All civil. Not a single go to hell, or fuck you. They had grown up, after all. Katie scoffed. If this was what growing up meant, she knew why all the grownups she had known as a child were always so stuck up.

Being grown up meant there were some things you wanted so desperately to say, but never said out loud.

Like, “If I had not called Amanda that night, what would have happened?”

Katied wondered. But she knew the answer already. Had she not called Amanda, Nick would be marrying some other girl. Katie herself would still be on barely-speaking terms with him. They would still find each other in this state, perhaps not at his house, but maybe a coffee place or a supermarket.

Still this awkward. Still hating each other.

And Katie would still hear Nick’s voice wherever she went.

. . .

This is all over the place, I admit. I had other things in mind when I was writing this (Nick was supposed to be perceptive and realize that something was wrong with Katie, for example), but it got long and I knew if I didn't finish this today I will never get to finish it, so I cut it off.

This is a much less morbid version of the other Nick, Katie, and Amanda story I had in mind. That one involves a funeral, and in some ways links to this one, so if I do get to fix it up I'll post it as well.

. . .

I was deferred to Penn. Surprisingly, I am not distraught, nor am I that upset. I think I wanted to get in somewhere early so I could just get it over with, but I am not entirely bought on the whole Penn thing. Maybe I was just persuading myself because I had already said I would do it and I hate to go back on my words.

I still love Penn.

But maybe it's not the one.

What does the one look like? I don't know. But MIT's as good a start as any. And yes, I know it's probably not the one either. But to be honest, I don't think I have to go to any one school, nor do I know what I would want for the next four years right now. In this regard, at least, I agree with Mario.

. . .

In English, someone was going to get cough drops from the nurse's office, and Sergio asked for one as well. Then someone else asked for some tissues.

Mr. Littney then said, "Get Dino a sucker pop as well."

We watched the last scene in Hamlet today. Where [spoiler alert] everyone important dies from poison (or, in Laertes's case, also from falling off a balcony, and, in Claudius's case, also from being squished by a chandelier). And Fortinbras marches his troops into the castle only to find everyone dead on the ground.

What a happy sight.

Apparently Aristotle's view of a tragedy is that after reading (or watching) one, we should have learned something about ourselves from it. So what have I learned? (Except for, as Mr. Littney pointed out, "the inability to shut up gives one longer life," as evidenced by Hamlet having being stabbed with poison first but dying last.)

I would say it's my inability to act. My indecision. My ease of just talking things over and not putting them into action. I am like Hamlet in that aspect. And I am missing out on many opportunities, and I am pushing myself off track with each minute I wait.

I can't decide.

I wrote about that in my EOQR as well, and my portfolio. Of course, in my portfolio, I said I learned how to decide, but I don't think I really did. I still don't have what it takes to stick to one decision and its consequences.

Just like colleges.

Just like Nick.

But that would be linking too many things together into one.