“Did you have significant concerns?” Aleksandr asks, amused.
“No, but my friends can be a lot,” she concedes, taking his hand. “You held your own,” she teases.
“My pleasure. I was glad to meet them. Are you sure you’re not cold?”
“No, no,” Lili says, waving a hand. “It’s gorgeous out, I’m fine.”
Dark storefronts, busy bars, her neighborhood streets. Passing a realtor’s office on Bedford, closed for the night, Aleksandr snorts, catching sight of the real estate listings, lit up with glowing fluorescence. “Do people really pay this much to live in Brooklyn?” he asks, glancing over the properties skeptically.
Lili knocks him with her shoulder. “Don’t be pretentious,” she warns.
“This neighborhood wasn’t like this when I first moved to the city,” he says. “These prices are comparable to Manhattan.”
“Yeah, well—gentrification,” Lili says, gesturing at a bar they pass: twenty-dollar experimental cocktails, plum velvet booths, terra-cotta blush walls. “I don’t really have a leg to stand on, I’m technically—I mean, definitely—part of it. But it’s a serious problem. Like, look at all those new developments by the water. Most of them are just fueled by real estate funds, changing the neighborhood, perpetuating a broken system.”
“Greene’s kid had some interesting ideas, working within a broken system.”
“Jamie told you about his fund idea?”
Aleksandr nods. “It has good thinking behind it. Some funds out west are doing similar work, I know some managing partners. Venture capital is a small community, connections are helpful.”
Lili is taken aback. “You offered to make introductions for him?”
Aleksandr shrugs. “Yes. He’s young, but he’ll be fine. He has enthusiasm, a known last name. The valley doesn’t really have an aversion to youth, especially if you’re a rich white kid.”
“True enough anywhere.”
“What about you?” he asks. “Have you started looking for jobs after you graduate? Since we know finance is off the table for you.” He grins.
“Oh.” Lili bites her lip. “I actually—I just got offered a job with the farm, while I was upstate. Like, full-time, salaried, all that, after I graduate. Working on their—I mean, our—expansion and strategic ops.”
His eyebrows raise. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I haven’t actually told anyone yet. I don’t know if I’m going to take it, honestly.”
“Why not? Is the pay not tenable?”
“No, it’s fairly good, surprisingly. We’re a profitable business, we have real funding. It’d be comparable to corporate ops starting salaries, with benefits. Definitely better than what I’d make trying to work my way up at, like, a UN agency.”
“And do you want to take it?”
Lili glances at him, trying to catch a hint of judgment or derision; but his gaze is clear, interested. “I think there’s a lot to be said for grassroots work as, like, an engine of economic empowerment and security,” she says carefully. “In Marin, too, I did some of this type of stuff—gardening upkeep, local food—with my foster parents. People in the Bay Area are intense about food supply, food security, that sort of thing. It’s important work.”
“So, why the hesitancy, then?”
She lets out an exhale. “It feels almost too good to be true? The chance to do work I enjoy, making solid money. I didn’t even think it was an option with the farm. Also, this sounds so stupid, but—is it impressive enough? And is it going to set me up right, in life? Like, I can almost hear my adviser:An economics master’s, and for what?I can’t just afford to do whatever I want after I graduate, like Amina can—I’m not saying that’s her fault, we need more artists, we should all be artists—but I’m responsible for how my life turns out. So, what if I make the wrong choice? I don’t know! I don’t know.” She flashes a smile, getting uncomfortable. “It’s fine, I’ve got some time to decide—oh, wait!” she says, grasping his arm. “Let’s stop here for a second.”
It’s one of her favorite walks: into Manhattan, over the Williamsburg Bridge. The stretch of water with the gleam and glass and glow of downtown, One World Trade looming.
“I love this view,” she says, pulling Aleksandr towards the railing.
“Do you usually take this walk into the city?” he asks.
Over her shoulders, she feels the settle of fabric: his jacket, that he’s draped over her now that she’s still. She considers protesting, but it’s warm from his body.
“Yeah, I love it. If I don’t have to be anywhere quick, I like the walk better than the train. I think it’s good to remember where we live sometimes, get some perspective,” she says, as Aleksandr’s arms wrap aroundher, drawing her into him. He rests his chin on her head, and she settles her cheek against his forearm. “Like, I know it’s overplayed—center of the world, all of that, but it has to mean something, sometimes. Even the most skeptical person has to feel for it, every once in a while.”
He murmurs a hum of assent, pressing a kiss to her hair.
