Did she really want to take a thirty percent pay cut to move to a city where she didn’t know anyone except a couple sorority sisters she’d deliberately lost touch with?
And as far as the dating scene went, she’d be starting from scratch in the land of socially incompetent tech nerds, as opposed to her current situation where she’d already sifted through all the coal and found the gold. No, she and Dustin weren’t technically together, but they were clearly trending in that direction. She wouldn’t be able to be there for him as much—as friends or more than friends—from California.
It was already June. It wouldn’t be that bad to stick it out until January bonuses. She could pay off more of her student loans, add to her Poet’s Fund, and then be better positioned to take a gamble on something new, something that wouldn’t take her away from New York.
Looking again at Dustin’s text, she wondered what the difference was between listening to her gut and listening to her heart.
Rae didn’t try to figure it out. She just began mentally crafting a breakup email to the San Francisco company, similar to the text template she’d sent guys from her ten first dates, the few who’d asked her out again.I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, but …
“You can delete cockroaches from the cons,” Ellen said that Friday night as they sat on the penthouse couch, color-coded spreadsheet open on Rae’s laptop. “We haven’t seen one in months.”
They were determining whether to renew their lease. Ellen was all for cost-benefit analyses for economic decisions, just not romantic ones. She was advocating that they stay, while Rae craved a new space, something to validate forward motion since she wasn’t switching jobs after all.
“I saw a roach in the shower just last week,” Rae insisted.
“That was a centipede,” Ellen said. “Much less threatening. And you should really move the ninety-six stairs to a pro, not a con. It’s keeping our asses in shape.”
Ellen’s glutes were far more toned than Rae’s despite the same climb, but Rae conceded the argument and made the adjustment in the spreadsheet.
“Put high switching costs as a reason to stay too,” Ellen said. “Moving is a nightmare.”
“The cons are still longer,” Rae said, evaluating the list:Half wall, small fridge, no dishwasher, loud neighbors, cold showers, no A/C, rabid radiator, lost mail/packages, sock-eating basement laundry.
“But you need to weigh the price and location variables most heavily,” Ellen said, well practiced for her new chickpea milk sales job, beginning next week. “Can’t beat those. And we’ve finally invested in chairs, so none of the Scramblettes have to sit on the floor.” They now had two plush-ish armchairs across from the couch.
“We could get more space in Brooklyn,” Rae said. “Williamsburg, maybe.”
Ellen rolled her eyes, then rolled them back again. “We’re not moving next to Dustin. If anything, we should think about the Upper East Side. You can get better deals.” Aaron lived on the Upper East.
“I’d consider it,” Rae said. “If we found the right spot.”
Ellen pouted. “Butthisis the right spot. I’ve become so accustomed to penthouse life, anything else would be too disappointing a letdown to bear.”
“Says the one whose bedroom has walls that reach the ceiling.”
“We could switch bedrooms,” Ellen offered. “I’ll be at Aaron’s place most nights anyway, since it’s walking distance to work. Did I tell you my new office has kombucha on tap? And free snack bins? And a flexible work-from-home policy?”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
Ellen had been talking about little else apart from all the glorious perks of start-up life.
“I don’t want to switch bedrooms,” Rae said, loyal to her runty room as long as she lived here. “I just think—we can’t live like college kids forever.”
“Not forever,” Ellen said. “Just one more year.”
“Fine,” Rae relented. “One more year.”
“Then we’ll find a bigger place uptown and you’ll move in with Aaron and me.”
“Great,” Rae deadpanned. “Third wheeling in an apartment really rings of adulthood.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you one of those ocean noise machines to mute the sounds from our bedroom.”
“Think I’d need a fire truck siren machine for that.”
“Well,” Ellen said, holding back a supremely pleased smile, “we have a whole year to figure that out.”
And they signed on the dotted line of the lease, committing to another 365 days on Perry Street.
