Once back in New York, she walked through Grand Central with the same vigor one might walk through a grocery store parking lot, before hopping on a subway ride to her place. But when she got back to the apartment, she noticed that the bar stools and the TV were gone. It’s not like she had particularly liked either. The stools were a basic silver metal frame with backless, circular black leather seats that were uncomfortable and looked like the kind you might see in a diner. She barely watched TV. But Harry had bought them, and technically that meant he had the right to do whatever he wanted with them. And this unnerved her — just another reminder of how little in her life had been, well, hers. She thought back to her sparse bank account and cringed. No, not just her bank account.Everything. Had she really been that dependent on him this whole time?
Cierra plopped her luggage down in the bedroom, which had always been a little too white for her taste. Harry preferred the “minimalist” look, which really just translated to a lack of color. They had compromised on the bedspread, which was also white, but had little pale-yellow tassels at the end. Other thanthat, the entire room looked like something out of the most boring Scandinavian catalog you could think of. Light wood, white dressers, a white floor lamp, framed white prints with “modern” black lines resembling trees and other meaningless, non-offensive shapes.
Cierra went over to one of the prints, a black stick figure on a white background. She studied the stupid little drawing, took it off the wall, and then suddenly hurled the framed print across the room. The sound of the glass shattering across the wooden floor was satisfying, but it wasn’t enough. Cierra was feral.
She stalked over to the other side of the room and tore the frame apart. Smiling, she then ripped the paper print inside into little shreds.I never liked that stupid fucking picture, she thought and grinned devilishly to herself.
Surveying her handiwork, she inhaled and exhaled deeply. A wave of energy came over her, as if releasing her from a minimalist-induced slump. But she couldn’t go around the apartment breaking everything — that would be crazy. Pulling herself together, she headed to the living room to do what she had intended to do for the rest of the day — look for jobs and apartments. But it would be hard to get an apartment without a job. Did brokers actually check the references listed?
While taking out her laptop, she looked again at the grayish blue couch, glass table, and empty walls. This place looked like a nondescript hotel, not the home of a loving couple.
Cierra snapped her laptop shut and shoved it back in her bag. She put on her puffer coat and decided a cafe would be a better fit. Or maybe even somewhere cozier, where she could drink as many cappuccinos as she wanted and borrow a matching cashmere PJ set.
Instinctively, Cierra checked Mia’s location and then sent her a message.
Cierra: Hey hey, I’m back! Have to find a new place like ASAP and was gonna spend tonight apartment hunting online . . . can I come over to yours? Could use some company rn
She didn’t have to wait two minutes to see the three little dots appear. Mia always reserved Sundays for home days.
Mia: Get ur ass over here!
Cierra smiled and let the door slam behind her on the way out. She felt a sense of renewal coming over her. With all this new free time, she needed to spend it somehow. And while she wasn’t looking to get into another relationship soon (counter to what everyone seemed to think), it’d be nice to go out with someone. She thought about what Lisa had said, how this was a chance to explore the dating scene as this version of herself. When she started seeing Harry, she’d been in a completely different place. Unsure of herself, navigating a chaotic new city, desperate to feel safe. In the elevator, she drafted a text to Julian asking if his offer still stood, and left the building.
“Cee-ahh-raa, where have you been?” John asked in his thick accent. John was an older Eastern European man who had been a doorman at Mia’s luxury apartment complex since the Clintons were in office. His hair was still full, though gray, and he carried himself with a spry energy, handling packages and assisting residents with quick, precise movements.
He pointed at the small bouquet in her hand. “Always with the lilies for your friend, huh? She should have a man bringing her something. What’s happened with the world, my gahd,” John muttered to himself, before walking back outside to his station. Cierra stood alone in the old-fashioned but still glamorous lobby, with wall-to-wall mirrors, a yellowish marble floor and gaudy gold chandeliers. Flowers were Cierra’s go-to gift for Mia, since it was more about the thought than the actualpresent. It’s impossible to get something for a girl who can buy anything she wants (and often does). But after all Mia had done in the past couple of months, Cierra wanted to say thank you. She walked over to the elevator bank, and once the doors closed, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet perfume of the bouquet.
The elevator opened directly into Mia’s penthouse, which was thirty floors up on Central Park West. She had a mostly open floor plan, and the aesthetic of her apartment was luxe Art Deco meets bohemian. Unlike the beige and white hellscape of Cierra’s own apartment, Mia’s penthouse opened up to a den with velvet purple and blue couches, oil paintings with gold leaf accents, and a mix of lanterns scattered across the ceiling. It made no sense, but it felt complete. Kind of like their friendship.
And there Mia was, waiting right inside the door.
“Aww! You shouldn’t be the one gettingmeflowers.” Mia squeezed her friend and inhaled the scent of the lilies voraciously. “I’m so, so happy you came! Plus, I just made coffee, if you want some.”
“Yes, please. I figured maybe I should take you up on the offer of company, and besides, I didn’t want to break anything else.”
“Break anything else? What broke?”
Cierra exchanged the bouquet of lilies for a mug of steaming coffee. “Oh, just one of Harry’s prints I threw across the room. And I texted Julian, so you can stop asking about it.”
Mia was wide-eyed and open-mouthed while Cierra took a nonchalant first sip. “Good for you, Cee,” she said approvingly, while looking for an empty vase. She settled on a navy glass orb.
Cierra gave a light curtsy. “I try my best.”
“I was just about to order some dinner. I know you said you needed to do apartment stuff, so I can leave you to it until the food arrives? And then we can vegetate?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I know.” Mia practically bounced, quickly placing the order on her phone. “One of my many talents. Oh! And I wanna hear about Julian!”
“Not much to say. I texted him just before coming here, but he hasn’t gotten back yet.”
“What made you do it, finally?”
Cierra thought about her sparsely decorated, colorless apartment with Harry. How she’d never hated the apartment, or the print, but she’d never really been crazy about it either.
“I dunno. When I got back from Connecticut, something felt different, I guess. Just ready to move on.”
Mia suddenly paused, with a pensive look, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure how it would land. Cierra could sense when her friend was trying to hold something in. “What is it?”
