the drama you are missing here is WILD
I wrote back to her quickly.what’s going on?
Lisette texted,people are freaking out over mark I swear he slept with half the city
I wonder if his wife will find out,I texted back, standing in the middle of a sidewalk. People were giving me irritated looks, so I moved to one side and leaned against a wall, just avoiding the dripping from an air conditioner above me.
Paul wants to tell her. He says it’s what Mark deserves,Lisette replied. I ached, looking at Paul’s name, wondering if I could ask how he was doing. He still hadn’t answered me.
anyway we asked Raahid if he wanted to join the Newfingers and he said no but then guess who did?
I grinned and wrote,please say lachlan please say lachlan
Lolololol,she wrote. No that would have been even better, but ellen! the manager of the puffin. So we’re trying her out next week. And four other people. And amber did you meet her?
who writes the sad songs about her boyfriend?I wrote.
The same.
I sighed. I felt jealous of these new people. I wanted to be up there, watching the auditions, listening to Paul give an impassioned lecture about long-form comedy.
My phone buzzed again.
paul isn’t sure about the new people.He really misses you,I stared at the words. If he missed me, why didn’t he just say so?Ithink he wants you to come back so he doesn’t want anyone else to take your place
After a moment, I wrote,I will come back to visit as soon as I get my sister set up with a new apartment. I miss you all so much.
Don’t forget me,Lisette wrote.
Never. I just mailed you something for your apartment.
It better have porcupines on it,Lisette wrote.I have a strict theme.
I walked along afterwards, feeling jealous that there might be a new person joining their improv group instead of me. Did I miss improv, now? What had become of me?
As if in answer, my friend Jasmine called.
“You, me, and Lucas. Dinner tonight. New gastropub Lucas found called the Bone and Whistle.”
“Let me guess. Lower East Side.”
She cackled. “Worse, babe. Williamsburg. Expect unicycles parked outside.”
We met up at close to 8 p.m., which in itself amused me. Half the restaurant kitchens would be shutting down in St. John’s by now.
“What is even happening with this place?” Jasmine demanded of Lucas, looking skeptically at the rough-hewn wood doors and post-industrial furniture visible through the darkened windows. “This is very 2010. There better not be Edison lightbulbs inside.”
“There are, but you’ll love it,” Lucas said. “It’s a giant throwback.”
“You can’t have a throwback to thirteen years ago.”
“Nostalgia cycles happen in ten-year cycles now, not twenty. We’ll be transported back to our mid-twenties instantly.” Lucas was a short, dark-haired California transplant who worked in public relations, while Jasmine was a tall Dominican-Americanwhose fashion choices were deceptively cozy and hand-knit, making her look like a giant fuzzy blanket while she used her razor-sharp wit to tease people. They both gave me kisses that landed somewhere north of my ears and then took my arms to lead me inside like a prisoner.
When we were finally seated at a table, having placed an order for unnaturally large burgers and unnaturally tiny string fries, Lucas turned to me and carefully looked me over.
“So,” he said, “I approve of the northern glow up.”
“I look exactly the same.”
