Page 6
She smiled a little. “Two months in the apartment. Four months in the States. ”
“Cool. What for?”
“For a job. I’m an engineer. ”
I must have looked surprised, which made me hate myself a little bit, because she laughed and said, “Yes, that’s right. I studied at the University of Baghdad. College of Sciences for Women. ”
“Wow. And you just decided to move over here? Your job got you a visa?”
She grinned, lightning fast. “I’m still working on that. This country makes it a pain in the ass to get a visa, you know?”
I laughed, even though that seemed kind of awful. “So where do you work?”
“Downtown on the Elseneer Project. ”
I nodded, and then shook my head. “I have no idea what that is. ”
She laughed. It was light and soft and likeable. “Here, I’ll show you. ”
She did, for an hour. I liked Sabeen, who seemed artsier than Jaz and less busy than Lucy, whom I’d met briefly this morning as she ran out of the apartment to rehearse for a show she apparently wasn’t even being paid for.
But Sabeen went out in the evening, and Lucy and Jaz were gone too, so on my second night in the city I found myself alone in the apartment. It should have been relaxing, but instead it uncovered a wellspring of restlessness, and I was suffocated by the intolerable loneliness of a night in the city with no one to see and nothing to do. The cat was back, curled on my chest and making it hard to think. My stomach buzzed with the anxiety of nothing, and my brain refused to focus. Everyone in the world had to be out there, partying until the sun came up, and I was alone and friendless and pathetic.
I paced around the apartment and tried to distract myself with videos, but really, more than anything, I wanted to be out in the city, carried along by the autumn wind like leaves tumbling in a gale.
I wanted magic.
My phone buzzed.
Halfway across the living room, I stilled. The screen of my cell had lit up, and as I stared at it I imagined it contained all the answers of the universe, that that text could be my entrance into a secret society, my invitation to Hogwarts.
I shook my head. I was being silly. It was probably Mom again.
Crossing the room with sure steps, I picked it up. When I saw the name lit across the screen, a name I hadn’t seen there in four years, my feet started to tingle.
Abraham.
My mom told me you’d moved to the city. We should grab drinks sometime.
Heat and then ice swept through me, leaving me short of breath.
The last time I’d seen Abraham Krasner, we hadn’t even been old enough to legally drink.
I sat on the edge of the sofa. His mom told him? Well, of course Sharon did. But why did he tell me that? Thoroughness? To make it clear it wasn’t his own idea? None of the above?
I had imagined running into Abe thousands of times since I last saw him, and those daydreams had veered from inducing jealousy to inducing passion. But that ship had sailed. I had sailed, on to greener pastures, or bluer waters, or wherever ships went to catch the other fish in the sea. We were friends—merely acquaintances now—and we should meet up to make our mothers happy.
Yeah, that sounds good! I paused, and then deleted the exclamation point. I’m busy through the week but could do something Friday or Saturday.
I pressed Send.
Then I jumped up and flung my arms around like wet noodles, letting a crazed keen escape my throat and then doubling over and laughing.
I’m busy next weekend.
My heart dropped.
You free tomorrow after six?
My heart flew into my throat.
Yeah, I texted back with shaking fingers. I am.
Chapter Four
Abe and I met in a small Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side, my second time there this weekend. It was an easy commute—I hopped on the N and it let me out at East 60th. For work I’d be able to continue on until I landed in the Flatiron District, where the Today Media offices were located.
But for now, I headed through the gridded streets of the city, following my phone until I landed at the right place. Everything in Manhattan was so tall and shiny and loud—I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. But I was prepared to.
When I reached the café, I paused, suddenly thrilled and terrified at the same time, a shot of emotions that flew me high enough that my feet tingled.
Which was silly, because I was just seeing an old friend. I tried to quiet the hairs rising on the back of my neck. We had been such good friends once, and though I’d tried to change that long ago, we were older and wiser and different people now.
So I took a breath and walked inside.
The place was small but welcoming; not many tables and spaced far apart, not crammed like so many places I’d seen. Paper lanterns swayed above tables. The walls were painted in large blocks of colors, soothing and playful, and the whole room smelled like fresh baked bread and marinara sauce.
“Tamar!”
I stopped, right there in the middle of the restaurant. All of a sudden I was seventeen years old again and walking into the hall in my prom dress, holding my breath for his reaction and then losing it at the sight of him in his suit. And fifteen years old, following him into a football party at Justin Cole’s house. And thirteen, sitting next to him in the one class we shared that year and soaking in his presence.
I hadn’t seen Abraham Krasner in four years, but I still could have recognized him blindfolded and disoriented. He had the same scent, sand and spice and warmth, and the same easygoing baritone, like sun-warmed stone. I turned slowly. “Hi, Abe. ”
If anything, he looked better than the last time I’d seen him in person. How had I forgotten how beautiful he was? The soft curl of his honey-colored hair, the darkness of his eyes, the way his lips always crooked up in a welcoming smile. And his body. . . I’d seen him on TV and in pictures, but it was still a shock to see how much he’d filled out in the past four years. He’d always had broad shoulders and a ripped physique, but I could barely think now that I was confronted with how good he looked. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, he was the most breathtakingly beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He stood and opened his arms, and after a brief hesitation I stepped into them. He’d always been so easy with touch, so fast to grab someone’s hand or slap someone’s back. In return, he’d become one of the few people that I was used to being touched by.
He smiled. That same smile I’d seen so often throughout the years, but now, with four years without it I felt like I’d been exposed to the sun after months of artificial light. “You look great. ”
I grinned back at him. “I was just thinking the same about you. ”
“It’s been forever. ” He sat back down at the table, and I followed suit. “What, four or five years?”
Just like that, my anxiety at seeing him again flowed away, and I raised my brows. Please. Abe had one of the sharpest minds I knew, and he might be able to fool other people into thinking all his talent came in brawn, but he’d never fool me.
He laughed at my expression. “Fine. Four years. You visited me in May my junior year. ”
I leaned back in my seat. “That’s right. ”
He tilted his head. His eyes studied me with a kind of intensity that I’d half-forgotten, as though he could see straight through all the obscuring personas and facades that people put up. “And now I hear you’re some hotshot reporter. ”