“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly. I’m sure he’s spinning the bullshit for them as fast as he can.” She dragged a french fry through a hill of ketchup. “But you came back, huh? Do you know what you want to do?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. This stretch, as nice as it was, wasn’t going to last forever. Within the hour, most people in this restaurant would push back from their tables and return to their offices, where they’d continue carrying out whatever slight rearrangement of the world their jobs demanded of them. But they were doing it. They were in it. They had found a way to fit themselves into the flow of time. I poked at the remains of my burger. “I’m still figuring it out,” I said. “I’m staying at a friend’s place for a while. I guess I’ll start applying to jobs soon.”
Sara cleared her throat. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Of course.”
“I’m an only child. I never had an older brother or sister or anything like that. You’re the oldest?” I nodded. “Right, so you can understand. I always wished someone had warned me about what it was like after college. How weird things are. And I had it really easy. My parents are connected. I got a job right after I graduated. I had nothing to complain about. But I still felt like shit. No one told me how hard it was going to be. It sounds like you went through this last year, too. You can relate.”
She leaned back, letting the waiter clear our plates. “Dessert? Coffee?” he asked, glancing toward Sara. “Two coffees?” she said. Then she continued.
“What I mean is there’s nothing wrong with you. You had a shitty job, a shitty guy who messed things up for you. But that happens. You can’t really avoid that stuff. It’s not easy, figuring out what you want. It’s really hard. And I mean what you want, not what your friends want, not what someone else wants.”
I was quiet. She paused. “Is this making sense?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I just—I know what you’re saying, but I don’t know…how do you actually do it? I mean, how do you figure that out?”
“Well,” she said, sitting up straight. Then she laughed. “This is kind of silly. I’m, like, two years older than you. Tell me if I’m being obnoxious.”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, I don’t know. It takes a while. It’s trial and error. But you just have to start doing it. And you have to trust yourself, to know what matters to you. You’re a smart girl. You’re going to be fine. Don’t let other people think they know better.”
The waiter set the coffees in front of us, two china cups quivering in their saucers. Sara tore open three sugar packets at once and emptied them into her coffee. “I have such a sweet tooth,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s terrible.”
Time seemed to slow down—the dissolve of the milk into my coffee, the clink of the spoon against the cup, the breeze from the door opening at the front of the restaurant, the grains of sugar falling from between Sara’s fingertips into the black liquid. I thought about what Sara had said. I thought about the canvases, hovering, in Donald Gates’s studio. I thought about the unopened envelope of photos back at Abby’s apartment. I thought about the loneliness of the spring, which had recently transformed into something else. A purer, simpler feeling. Like the satisfied, heavy-limbed awakening that follows a long night of sleep.
I looked up. Sara wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, waiting for me to speak.
“Thank you for that. It’s really good advice.”
“Is it? I’m not sure it would have actually helped if someone told me that after college. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have listened.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Please.”
“Why did you ask me to lunch? I mean, last year at the party. I’m grateful, really, but why do all this?”
“You seemed smart. You seemed better than the situation you were in.” She shrugged. “Also, you seemed better than that asshole Adam. I can relate to that. I only wish you had called sooner. We had a job opening a few months ago that would have been great for you.”
My stomach dropped. I had been in Boston, I reminded myself. I hadn’t been planning to move back to New York. “You filled it?”
“I did. I’m sorry, Julia. I wish I had something to offer you now. But things come up. I hear about things through friends. You are looking for a job here, right? You’re staying in New York?
“Yes. Yes, I’m staying.”
“Good,” Sara said, smiling.