Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,130
Washington Heights apartment she shared with two other medical students. On Saturday, after watching Gil, they took the A train from Forty-second Street, pausing first to look at the neon behemoth that was Times Square. Sam knew from both Maddie and Elisabeth that real New Yorkers hated the place, but she thought it was sort of magnificent, those bright lights and gaudy flashing signs and people everywhere you looked.
On the subway, Clive read the ads for personal injury attorneys out loud to her.
“Is there any American who hasn’t sued someone?” he said.
And Sam said, “Yes. Me.”
She planted a kiss on his cheek. She was excited to see Maddie, and relieved in a way to be free of Elisabeth for the rest of the weekend.
Once they reached Maddie’s, the three of them went to a bar in her neighborhood. Then, back at the apartment, Clive fell asleep, and Sam and Maddie stayed up talking.
Sam told her about the hotel room where they had spent the afternoon and evening with Gil.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said.
“Did you take pictures?” Maddie said.
“No, but I stole a bunch of shampoos from the maid’s cart. Half for me and half for you.”
Maddie nodded. “Sweet.”
She was a year older than Sam. They met on the one day when eighth graders got to visit the town high school. Maddie was assigned to be Sam’s tour guide. They had been best friends ever since, even though it was hard to find a place for their shared history in the midst of new friends, new lives.
Sam was more comfortable with Maddie than anyone. Their families were alike. Even their houses were nearly identical—modest white Colonials, distinct from each other only because the shutters on Sam’s were black, and the shutters on Maddie’s were red.
“Elisabeth thinks I should move here after graduation,” Sam said now.
“Personally, I want to leave as soon as possible,” Maddie said. “Go to a smaller city, where normal people can afford to live.”
“That’s pretty much what I told her, that I could never afford to live here,” Sam said. “Elisabeth made it seem like she struggled when she was young, but it was worth it. Which is odd, considering the real story. Apparently she comes from a lot of money. Andrew’s father told me the other day.”
Sam pulled the shampoo bottles from her tote bag and lined them up on Maddie’s coffee table.
“I thought she just had good taste. I didn’t realize her father was a billionaire.”
“An actual billionaire?” Maddie said.
“Probably not. But still.”
“Still,” Maddie said. “Sketchy.”
“They lived in Brooklyn when they were here,” Sam said. “I didn’t know rich people lived in Brooklyn.”
“That’s where the undercover rich people live,” Maddie said. “Like actual movie stars, but the kind who take their clothes to the laundromat because they think that’s keeping it real. That’s the thing about this city. So few people’s lifestyles correspond to what they do for a living. You’ll meet a poet, and she’ll invite you over, and it turns out she has an entire brownstone. But it will never be mentioned how. You’re supposed to pretend all poets live like that.”
Sam hadn’t said anything to Isabella about what George had told her. Isabella wouldn’t get it.
She told Clive, who said, Rich people are the worst. So predictable. I could sense that in Elisabeth, based on how you described her. You’re too trusting, babe.
She wished then that she hadn’t told him.
But Maddie’s reaction confirmed what Sam had already been thinking.
“This place isn’t for me,” Sam said. “It’s so—big. And dirty. And crowded. No offense.”
“None taken,” Maddie said. “I didn’t design it. It’s not for me either, long term. But if you move here after graduation, we could live together for two years, until I finish school. Remember we used to talk about doing that? You working in a gallery, me in med school. Making dinner together every night. Watching TV in our pajamas. Dating identical twins named Chad and Brad.”
Sam laughed.
“How fun would that be?” Maddie said.
“So much fun. Too bad you already have roommates.”
“Calvin and Marisa graduate this spring. I’ll need new roommates soon.”
“Ooh.”
“We should totally do it,” Maddie said. “We’ll live like an old married couple, at last.”
Sam looked toward Maddie’s room, where Clive was asleep on the air mattress.
When she crawled in beside him a few hours later, he woke up, groggy.
“I like New York City,” he said.
“You’ve hardly seen it.”
“What I’ve seen, I like.”
“Elisabeth keeps saying I should move here,” she said, testing his reaction.