“Ugh! What’s that nasty smell?” Nikki came out of the bedroom, wrinkling her nose.
“Oh. Oops. Sorry.” Amanda hurried to turn off the stove. She had burned her grilled cheese sandwich black as night. Flustered, she reached her hand toward the loaf of bread, knocking over her glass of water.
“What’s gotten into you?” Nikki tossed a dish towel to Amanda.
She fumbled it and stooped to pick it up off the floor. “I kind of have a date in a little while.”
“What? And you didn’t tell me? Come on!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you should be. I mean, come on! So what are you wearing?”
Amanda chewed her lip. “I … don’t really know.”
“Alright, let’s get to work. Hair and makeup first. What would you do without me, huh?”
Amanda smiled shyly and followed Nikki into the bathroom. She had been toying with telling Nikki about her date all morning, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. Now she sighed with relief. She appreciated Nikki’s wisdom when it came to fashion. She did want to impress Ethan.
With the primping and preening complete, Nikki steered Amanda toward their bedroom, where she rummaged through her stuffed closet. “I’m thinking something provocative. At the very least, you definitely want to show some skin.”
“You know, conservative works for me.” Out of habit, Amanda reached up to twirl a curl, but only grasped the air. Nikki had put her hair up in an intricate design, leaving nothing for her to fidget with.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your body: show it off!” A few minutes later, Nikki’s muffled voice called triumphantly from the back recesses of the closet: “This is perfect.” Emerging, Nikki handed Amanda some clothes. “You’re going to look fabulous! Put them on and then come out into the living room.”
She had chosen a tight black miniskirt and a silk gold top. Neither would have been Amanda’s preference, but Nikki was the designer, so she yielded to her choice. Amanda dressed and left the bedroom.
Nikki smiled, then began clapping. “What did I tell you? Stunning! Here, put on these heels to complete the ensemble.”
“These don’t seem comfortable or safe.”
“Who cares? They look so good!”
The only thing left to do was wait. Amanda glanced at the clock: five minutes until six. Walking over to the window, she stared at the street below, tapping her bitten nails against the sill. A sports car turned onto their street—a cherry-red Anaconda. The coupe looked polished and waxed to perfection. It would stand out anywhere, but most of all here among the outdated and dented jalopies. She knew, even before he exited, that it had to belong to Ethan.
She swallowed. “My date’s here.”
“Have a great time! And promise to tell me all the juicy details.”
“Okay. Thanks for all of your help, Nikki. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course!” Nikki hugged her. “I like you, Amanda Burrow. You’re growing on me.”
The intercom buzzed.
“Go get ’im!” Nikki said.
Amanda took a deep breath and pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Hey! Mind if I come up?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Amanda retreated to the couch to wait, wanting to bite her nails again but resisting. She imagined Ethan stepping into the elevator and then walking down their hallway. A few minutes later, she heard a loud rapping on the door. She could barely move: her feet felt like stone. She seemed paralyzed.
“Here, I’ll get it.” Nikki walked over and opened the door.
There stood Ethan.
“Nikki!” He smiled, his face lit with amusement.
Nikki staggered back a few feet. She looked back and forth from Amanda to Ethan. “Wait, what? You? You’re Amanda’s date?”
Amanda just stared at them: They knew each other?
Ethan walked into the apartment and over to Amanda. “Hey again. Wow, you look amazing!”
“Thanks. The credit all goes to Nikki.”
Nikki leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyebrows scrunched. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Amanda, when did you meet Ethan?”
“I met him at the Graduate Academy—my first day there. You know Ethan too?”
Nikki’s face turned white. Ignoring Amanda, she turned to Ethan. “You met Amanda at the Masters Academy?”
“That would be correct.”
“She’s the one—”
“The one I asked on a date, yes.” Ethan’s composure was a great contrast to Nikki’s growing agitation.
“But …” Nikki sputtered, a sickened expression on her face. “You knew she was my roommate?”
“It became pretty apparent after she told me her address last night.”
“And you didn’t tell me immediately?”
“I thought a surprise would be much more fun. But I guess not.”
Amanda glanced from one to another, lost in the conversation. “So … how, exactly, do you two know each other?”
“We both work for the National Citizens Party.” Ethan hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “We’re coworkers, actually.”
“Unfortunately.” Nikki spat out the word, her bewilderment changing to fury.
So they weren’t past lovers, which had been Amanda’s first assumption. That was a relief. Nikki had complained about her “dense coworker” just yesterday. Perhaps she had been referring to Ethan.
“We have a reservation to keep, so we better be going.” Ethan gestured toward the door. “Ready, Amanda?”
“Yeah.” Amanda paused at the door, turning to Nikki, who glared at the wall, her jaw locked. “Bye, Nikki.”
Nikki moved her head to stare at Amanda with a look full of disdain and disgust. Amanda sucked in her breath like she had been kicked in the stomach. Without another word, Nikki strode into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Bewildered, Amanda gazed at the closed bedroom door, her spirits sinking. All this because Nikki didn’t approve of her going out with Ethan?
Ethan touched her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s me she’s upset with, not you. Nikki has a volatile personality and tends to overreact. But give her a few hours and she’ll be back to normal.”
It was true: Nikki’s moods fluctuated from one extreme to another. For now, Amanda would have to forget about Nikki and just hope she would cool down. Taking a deep breath, Amanda followed Ethan into the elevator and outside.
His car was even more impressive up close. “That’s quite the vehicle.”
Ethan opened the passenger door for her. “Thanks. It does the job.”
In the few seconds that it took him to walk over to the driver’s side, she observed the interior of the car: black leather seats, immaculately clean floor mats, the smell wonderfully masculine. He slid into his seat, put on his shades, and spoke the command to start, the car roaring to life. He darted out of the spot and began weaving his way through the city.
She glanced at him. He appeared completely at ease, even with taxicab and other drivers beeping, cursing, and gesturing all around. “You don’t seem to mind all the traffic.”
“I know where I’m going.”
“Yeah, but you still have all these other vehicles to deal with.”
“They’ll move over for me.” He swerved ahead of a taxi to their left, leaning back in his seat, unperturbed. “I live what Hannibal said, crossing the Alps with elephants: ‘I’ll find a way or make one.’”
She cringed and clutched the seat cushion, preparing for what looked like an inevitable fender bender. Instead, he expertly maneuvered his way in front of another taxi, forcing a space for himself in the adjacent traffic lane. She laughed at his audacity.
He gave a look of surprise, pretending to be offended. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No! No, not at all. It’s just … does anything worry you? It seems like the world could be ending and you wouldn’t be concerned.”
“Right now, I’m in control, so there’s no reason to be worried.”
“True. But that can’t always be the case. What if the world really were ending?”
He shrugged. “My priority would be survival for as long as possible—same as everyone else. When that fails, then, hey, at least I can die knowing that I enjoyed my life. Based on your question, I take it that you would be concerned?”
“You could say that.”
“What, specifically, would you be upset about?”
“Some people would say we should fear the unknown … what lies beyond this world.”
“You think there is something after this life?”
He stopped at a red light and she fell silent, pondering her response before saying, “I used to believe I’d see my loved ones again someday. I don’t think so anymore.”
“It’s a nice thought, no doubt about it—but not one I want to cling to at the expense of reality. Science shows us that death is a natural, physical process. Life begins and life ends. That ending doesn’t have to be bad. No regret, no pain—a peaceful nothingness. That’s why the Freedom to Die campaign has been so successful, especially for those whose lives have become miserable. Anyway, I would rather treasure my loved ones here, in this life, than console myself with an illusory ‘happily ever after.’”
Amanda frowned. “Yeah … I know quite well that ‘happily ever after’ is a lie.”
“Many people base their entire lives on a whole series of lies.” He put the car into park. “We’re here.”
The restaurant was almost hidden, tucked belowground on the bottom floor of one of the countless skyscrapers. Ethan opened her door and then led her down a few stone steps to the entrance.
Ethan walked up to the hostess. “Good evening. I have a reservation for two under Ramsey.”
So that was his last name. Ethan Ramsey. Her mind next jumped to: Amanda Ramsey.
“Of course, Mr. Ramsey. Please follow me this way.” The hostess tucked two menus under her arm and led them through the dimly lit restaurant to a quiet booth in the back, where a single candle flickered on the table. “Someone will be with you shortly.”
They took their places on either side of the table. He leaned toward her, ignoring the menu in front of him. “What are you thinking about?”
She startled, his words disrupting her daydream of being Mrs. Ethan Ramsey. “Wh-What do you mean?”
“I could see it in your eyes: you were deep in thought about something. I’m fascinated to learn what it could possibly be.”
“Oh … I was just thinking about your last name. I didn’t know it until you told the hostess.”
“We have lots to learn about each other. Your last name is …?”
“Burrow.”
“Nice. So we got some preliminaries out of the way. Now tell me about the Burrow family.”
The waitress appeared, cutting off her reply. Amanda couldn’t stand having to select a dish. Some required special finesse to eat, such as a lobster tail; others were a potential mess, like spaghetti or a stuffed burrito. So she played it safe and went with a basic, no-fuss salad.
Having taken their orders, the waitress left.
Ethan took a sip of wine. “Let’s try that again. What’s your family like?”
She was prepared for this question and answered with ease. “There’s my dad, Kevin, who works in construction, and my sister, Chiara. She’s fourteen and just started a trade program for agriculture and equine work.”
“Are you close with them?”
She tilted her head, considering. “Well, they live upstate. This is my first time living away from home. I suppose we’re close. I’m pretty different from them, though. … We don’t share the same interests at all. Or the same values, I guess you could say. What about your family?”
He started buttering one of the warm dinner rolls sitting in a basket on the table. “There are three of us: my parents and me. My dad is the CEO of a large, multinational software company he founded, so growing up, my mom and I traveled with him around the world. It was an unconventional childhood, you might say.”
“Did you attend an Academy of some sort?”
“No. I learned more from my dad than from reading any textbook or preparing for a ‘standardized’ test. My dad taught me all about his new business methodology—stripping away needless bureaucracy within his enterprise and letting people do what people do best without interference or control. He taught me the importance of freedom: to follow one’s desires without a ‘big brother’ watching over you or hierarchical command dictating what is right. And that’s how I learned: I experienced things, pursuing my interests and discovering the answers to my questions.”
She could picture him as an inquisitive seven-year-old, standing with his mother in front of the pyramids of Egypt, or as a lanky teenager, exploring the palace at Versailles. He was a world traveler, an eclectic connoisseur of knowledge. She, on the other hand, had never been out of the state of New York. Even more pathetically, she’d never left her hometown until she moved to the city.
Amanda plopped her lemon slice into her glass of water. “Why did you end up here in the city?”
“It’s New York! This is where all the action is. All the opportunities are here.”
She was about to ask what these opportunities and activities consisted of, but the waitress came with their dinners.
Ethan asked the next question. “So what do you like to do when you’re not in class or hiding in the graphic design lounge?” He smiled.
If only she could offer him something exquisite, fascinating, or corresponding to his diverse upbringing. If only she could impress him by listing flame throwing or bungee jumping among her skilled and varied pastimes. Yet she had one hobby, one exclusive pursuit. “I paint.”
“What do you like so much about painting?”
“I don’t normally share things with other people. I find that it’s safer to keep most thoughts and emotions to myself. Painting is my way of expressing these things. I take whatever is in my heart and project it onto the canvas. It’s like therapy for me, at times. Other times, it’s an escape or a sanctuary or even an adventure. You traveled around this world. I travel to other worlds through my art.”
He had abandoned his veal parmesan, his eyes now studying her. “Here’s a hypothetical for you. Let’s say you had a paintbrush in your hand right now. What would you paint?”
“Sorry. I don’t share my personal paintings with anyone.”
“Why? Don’t most artists like showing their work?”
“I guess. It’s different for me, though.”
“Alright, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking. Then he leaned closer from across the small table. “Though maybe there might come the time when you would open your heart enough to share your paintings with me?”
She’d already grown accustomed to his intense gaze—his bold, unrelenting stare. Now, though, his eyes appeared soft and supplicating. His regular confidence gave way to a susceptible hope. She stared back at him, her heart divided. The thought of disappointing him felt repulsive. Yet, to reveal her carefully guarded paintings, even to him, seemed like a self-betrayal of sorts.
Amanda decided to mask her indecision. “We’ll see. Nikki might have first dibs on the paintings, though. I did meet her before you.”
“Game’s on. I’m warning you, though: I’m a tough competitor. Be prepared for me to win.”
For the remainder of the dinner, she hardly tasted a thing she ate; Ethan consumed her entire focus. She would have sat there for hours, talking with him, but at one point, he cast a quick glance out the front windows of the restaurant. “Shall we go?”
They stood up, and after he had paid the bill, they stepped outside into the city once again. Night had descended. A fluorescent glow lit the avenue, and even at this late hour, the streets were speckled with an assortment of people enjoying a night on the town.
She stared at the bright lights and crowds. “This couldn’t be more different from my hometown.”
“Let’s take a walk so you can soak it all in.”
They strolled, and he chatted about his experiences growing up, relating some of his adventures while abroad. He seemed to be leading them in a certain direction, but it wasn’t until they had just about reached the site that she could identify the place.
“Central Park?”
“You got it.”
Leaving the noisy avenue behind them, they made their way into the park, passing other couples meandering along the wooded paths. Rollerbladers zoomed by, carefree yet rather skillful. The evening had a taste of July in it, nature seemingly clinging to the last crumbs of Indian summer before it gave way to the crispness of autumn.
“Would it be okay if I hold your hand?”
Amanda looked at him, taken aback and touched by his respectful request. He was forward, but he wasn’t presumptuous.
“Sure … I’d like that.”
They walked along together, and she marveled at the feel of his fingers interlaced with hers. His hand was warm and his grip firm. They strolled along for a time until they came to a large pond. Gesturing to a park bench, he invited her to have a seat. He sat next to her, close enough so her leg just brushed against his. She looked at him, her breath escaping her. His face was so close.
“Blue …” His voice was so soft that only she could hear it. “Your eyes … I can see them in the moonlight. They’re an incredible dark blue.”
Intimidated by his powerful gaze, she had to look away. Above them, the moon shone against the dark sky. “That’s strange. I didn’t know you could see stars in the city, considering all the light pollution.”
“Only on clear nights can you see them.”
A memory came to her, unsummoned and escaping the vault where she repressed such recollections. “I remember, when I was young, I would just sit by my bedroom window, looking up at the stars. They were breathtaking, up in the mountains. Someone once told me that wishing on a star was offering a prayer from the deepest recesses of your heart and that the stars, watching over us, are like the angels.”
“Do you agree with that?” His tone sounded altered, his voice slightly sharp and guarded.
“No, not at all.” The memory faded like mist—far removed from where she was now and who she had become. “I learned a long time ago not to wish on stars.”
He seemed to relax, leaning back against the bench. “I will admit that they’re attractive balls of plasma.”
“Very true.”
“I have a childhood memory to share with you too. I remember when I was young, my dad invited me to his office and showed me some of the awards and accolades he had earned throughout the years. He told me something then that I never forgot. In a way, it has directed my life ever since. Do you want to know what he said to me?”
“After that introduction, you better tell me.”
“My dad advised me to tell myself in times of hesitation or doubt, ‘If it’s meant to be, it’s up to me.’” He looked upward at the night sky again. “I don’t wish on stars to make dreams come true. I am where I am today because of my own hard work. I had to make it happen.”
“That’s how I feel about being at the Masters Academy. It’s important to be self-reliant. You can’t really depend on other people.”
“You’re very much a loner, aren’t you?”
“It ends up that way most of the time, yes.”
“For the majority of my life, I was a loner. It was kind of inevitable, with moving around so much. I still revert to that sometimes.”
Amanda gave a small nod. “It’s hard to shake the demons of your past. As much as you grow up and try to move on, the experiences of your childhood are always there, haunting you.”
“Your past is part of you; it’s shaped who you are today. That’s not necessarily bad. But it’s the present that matters. It’s in the here and now that you can become whomever you desire.” He squeezed her hand. “And neither of us is alone right now.”
They were still, listening to the sounds of the night: the rustling of the water, the harmonious movement of trees around them, the melodic undertone of the slight breeze. In that simple yet profound moment, a sense of bliss filled Amanda—an overwhelming happiness that she had been convinced was permanently gone.
But she had been wrong. He made her feel alive again.
“As much as I regret saying this, I think we should head back.” Ethan stood up. “I know I have class tomorrow, and I’m presuming that you do as well.”
She had forgotten about her class on Monday. Actually, she had forgotten about everything but him.
They walked hand in hand back to his car. They reached her apartment building much too soon, and disappointment filled her at the thought of leaving him. He opened her door and, taking her hand, helped her out. They stood on the empty sidewalk, looking at each other.
Ethan smiled. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“Thanks. … It was … great.” She regretted the words immediately. “Great” was such an understatement. If only she could find the right combination of adjectives to describe what this night meant to her, a night she would replay over and over again in her mind.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow at the Graduate Academy. Until then …” He brought her hand toward his mouth, pressing his lips against her skin. “… I wish you good night.”
After getting back into his car, Ethan drove away. She raised her head once more and looked at the night sky. The stars were gone, masked by cloud cover. She smiled to herself. As if she needed stars …