Page 24 of One More Weekend

I followed closely behind her, shutting the door and engaging the deadbolt. But when I turned around Jenna was already halfway to her bedroom door. My forehead wrinkled with confusion. Usually, we shared a pint of ice cream and turned on the TV before heading to bed.

She didn't even bother to look over her shoulder as she called over her shoulder, “Good night.”She closed her door behind herself.

And just like that one of the most confusing nights of my life was over and I had no idea what would happen when the sun rose the next morning.

16

JENNA

Standingin front of my mirror, I took a deep breath.

Just be chill. It wasn't a big deal.

The last few days had been excruciating. It wasn't like me or Sy to leave anything unspoken. But I knew I had crossed a line at Henrietta; it didn't seem like Sy had any intentions of calling me out for it. That… or she wassouncomfortable she didn't want to talk about it at all.

My mind started to spin. If she was really that upset would she still insist on taking me out today?

I tugged at the helm of my pink gingham top.

Maybe it was too suggestive after getting so close over the weekend.

Just as I started to question everything, there was a gentle knock at my door.

“Just a second.” I tried to sound as normal as possible, hoping my best friend in the entire world wouldn’t sense my nerves. It was far too late to back out now.

So instead, I grabbed my purse and took a deep breath all while convincing myself that everything was completely fine and I was being dramatic.

I threw open my bedroom door and plastered on the most excited smile that I could manage. “Ready when you are.”

From the kitchen, Sy smiled softly and grabbed her keys and wallet. At her feet was a brown paper bag with twine handles, full of leftovers from our fridge. Each Tupperware had a delicately hand-written note on top with a detailed list of ingredients.

“I just have to drop these at the community fridge on the way.” Sy looked at the bag and grabbed the doorknob and one swift motion. We tried to switch drop-offs to the pantry, always trying to keep it stocked with fresh healthy meals.

With just a light purse over my shoulder, we headed out the door. Strapped to Sy’s back was a cute, black backpack with a few water bottles in it.

Once we were out on the street, a barrage of honking and construction machinery meeting our ears, Sy turned to look at me. “I still can’t believe you haven’t been to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens before. It’s like lesbian first date etiquette.”

Chuckling, I shrugged. “Clearly I haven’t picked total winners. But you’re remedying it so that’s good.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could analyze them.Was it too coded?Our vibe had been off despite our best efforts to ignore the tension. But of course, I had to go and make a weird comment right out of the gate.

“I’m excited to show it to you, it’s really gorgeous and we’re in the perfect time for seeing as many blooms as possible.” Sy’s face lit up as she thought about all of the flowers and plants in the gardens.

It was like having my own personal tour guide… which I guess was the point. But Sy loved plants more than anything else, having to limit which ones she brought into our apartment since the lighting was unideal for most of them.

Like clockwork, Sy had gone to see the gardens both in Brooklyn and the Bronx every year during the early summer.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come with you before.” I managed as we approached the community fridge.

Sliding the meals into the nearly empty fridge, Sy shook her head. “See, consequences of office jobs.”

After the door closed, we headed down toward the 6 train at the Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall station. We walked in mostly silence as I thought about what Sy was saying. She wasn’t wrong, having to be in an office five days a week for nine hours a day hindered pretty much everyone’s quality of life.

How much of this city had I missed just staring at emails and making spreadsheets?

It was hard to accept, especially as the prospect of leaving New York became more and more real. It had been over three weeks since my internship ended and I hadn’t even gotten an email back about a single application.

Of course, I’d chosen one of the most nepotism-friendly industries and I didn’t happen to know anyone helpful.

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