Small Admissions Page 12

  Vicki’s apartment was small but supercool. Immaculately clean and minimalistic. No clutter. One wall was bright orange. A pristine, white bike leaned against it and above hung a supersize clock that looked like it came from Grand Central. Angela pictured the wall covered in marker and dirty handprints. The bike was a hazard; it could tip over and crush someone. And the clock, which didn’t actually tell time, looked weighty, like any minute it would pull itself and the plaster wall crashing down onto the head of a child below. The place was dangerous. And quiet. It was strange to Angela that they were all alone in the apartment, that there was no one else to keep track of. She kept turning her head, looking for someone to come in and need something. Help me find my keys. Read to me. I’m hungry. Shoes, Mommy. No, the blue ones. But here it was peaceful. The bright orange wall was clean and the mirrored cocktail table was neatly arranged with big, beautiful, breakable objects. There were bright, patterned pillows on the couches, whimsical, groovy, and too pretty to lean on. Angela had seen those very pillows in the window of Jonathan Adler and knew they cost over $100 each, and now, glancing around Vicki’s living room, she counted six of them. One had a big blue “V” woven onto it, and Angela wondered if Vicki had bought that for herself or if someone had splurged to give her a personalized gift. Either way, the “V” pillow set a tone of serious self-involvement that she envied.

  In contrast to this bright, swanky space, Angela’s apartment suddenly seemed impossibly boring. She pictured her Pottery Barn living room with its beige twill couch and clunky wood coffee table, playpen crammed in the corner and stuffed animals all over the floor. She had liked it all until now.

  Vicki slowly poured two ridiculously long-stemmed glasses up to the brim, one with wine for herself, and one with sparkling water for Angela. Everything she did was graceful and deliberate. Angela sat on a tall barstool that had no back to it, the kind a child would fall off of and crack her head on the floor. It was difficult for Angela not to see catastrophes everywhere. Those wineglasses wouldn’t last five minutes in her house.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Vicki said, holding up her glass.

  “No, Vicki, thanks for inviting me,” Angela answered, taking a sip and wondering why exactly she was there. And would there be food?

  “I prefer Victoria actually.”

  “Oh, I thought—”

  “My college friends can’t seem to make the transition. But with everyone else, I just prefer to forgo the nickname.”

  “Victoria, of course.” Angela decided to save time and get right to their common denominator. “Kate has a fabulous job. You heard about it, right?” Angela asked.

  “It’s great news. Finally.”

  “I’m so glad it worked out,” Angela said. “When I connected her to her new boss, I had no idea if he’d offer her something or not. It’s not like she has any kind of a résumé. I was so worried that I was setting her up to fail.”

  “You got her the job?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Angela said, feigning modesty. “All I did was make the connection, and she took it from there. Of course, I gave her advice on interviewing with him. On what to say and wear. Other than that, it was all her.”

  “I didn’t realize. Well, here’s to you, then,” Victoria toasted. “Nicely done.”

  “Oh, it was nothing really. I mean, I feel responsible for her, naturally. In any case I’m just so happy she’s off that couch. Did she ever mention her boss to you? Say anything about him?”

  “No, but I’ve barely talked to her since she took the job.”

  “He asked her out to dinner, and I told her not to go.”

  “Why? You think he’s hitting on her?”

  “It occurred to me.”

  “I’ll let you know if she says anything, but I wouldn’t worry about it,” Vicki said. “I’m sure you’ve got enough on your mind.” She was busy preparing things on the counter that Angela couldn’t see. “How are you feeling anyway? You’re due soon, right?”

  “Not exactly. I have a few more months.”

  “And how’s your little girl? Emily?”

  “She’s great, thanks.” Angela thought for a second. “Really, thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Asking.”

  “Well, what could matter more?”

  Angela swung her legs back and forth, feeling her feet swell as they dangled off the barstool. “Yes, but it’s just that most people I know who don’t have kids never think to ask. No offense.”

  “I want a family.”

  “Really? I mean, you do?”

  “I want what you have—a husband, companionship. You’re very fortunate.”

  “How sweet,” Angela said.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “I can’t imagine you would want anything to change. I mean”—she flung her arms out—“look at this.”

  “It’s great, but I’m ready for a real relationship. I want someone who puts me first. Kate’s lucky she has you keeping an eye on her.”

  “I annoy her. And it’s not fair really. Kate doesn’t appreciate everything I do for her,” she confided. “And Doug says I’m overprotective.”

  “She should be thanking you. I’ll tell her that next time I see her. I don’t have anyone looking out for me. Obviously being single has its upsides—I’m totally selfish, I never have to check in with anyone or answer questions about where I’ve been. Nobody’s business. I date a guy until one of us isn’t into it anymore and then move on. I spend my money my way, and I have the whole closet to myself.”

  “You must get asked out constantly,” Angela said. “I mean, look at you.”

  “Sure,” Victoria said. “But those are just guys.” She refilled Angela’s water and held up a board of raw vegetables and dips, bruschetta, and toasted, salty walnuts.

  “Pretty!” Angela said, enjoying being taken care of more than she could have anticipated.

  “For me,” Victoria said, “the part I can’t wrap my head around—and I hope you won’t be offended that I’m saying this—but where was Kate’s show of strength? Her pride even? How could she fall apart like that? It was excessive, don’t you think?”

  Angela had tolerated Kate’s emotional collapse for so long, had endured her whining without ever shaking her like she’d wanted to, she could hardly contain herself when she heard those words spoken out loud. “Yes!” she admitted. “Yes! I agree completely. I mean, I understand heartbreak and the difficulty of adjusting to a new plan, but seriously, it was too much.”

  “It seemed like she was wallowing.”

  “She was. She wallowed, she wallowed more than she should have.”

  “Thank God that’s over.”

  Angela, watching Victoria carry the crudités and her wine over to the coffee table, asked suddenly, “Can you explain her friendship with Chloe? She obviously isn’t good for Kate. I can’t understand why Kate doesn’t see that.”

  “Believe me, Chloe’s a really good person, very down-to-earth; she just didn’t know how to handle such a tricky situation.”

  “I don’t know,” Angela said. She tried to see Chloe as incompetent rather than cruel and supposed it was a possibility she could at least consider. She hopped down from her barstool to follow Victoria and the food to the sitting area, knocking her bubbly water over with her elbow. The tall glass rolled a bit toward her, fell, and smashed on the floor.

  There was a flurry of activity. Angela dropped down on the floor to try to pick up the bigger broken pieces, while Vicki got out a dustpan and broom, paper towel and a trash can.

  “God, Vicki. Victoria! I’m so sorry.”

  “Forget it. It’s nothing.” They got every tiny shard off the floor, and Victoria went back to the kitchen to get a new glass for Angela, choosing to give her a short and stocky lowball this time. Angela took it and tried not to be offended. Feeling like a fat, clumsy toddler, she went and sat down on the couch, carefully moving one of the glassy, sequined pillows off to the side
. “Can I do anything to help?” she asked. She looked down and noticed that the rug under her feet was pure white, and she quickly checked the bottoms of her shoes. “Your apartment is, well, it’s like a spa in here. You have beautiful taste.”

  Victoria looked around as though she, too, admired the taste of the person who lived there. “I adore contemporary,” she said and sat down. “Where were we?”

  “Kate?”

  “I hope she meets a new man at work,” Victoria said. “A teacher maybe.”

  “No!” Angela said abruptly. “She needs to focus on her job.”

  “But it would be good for her to start dating again. And I don’t think she’d repeat the same mistakes.”

  “I’m not so sure. She doesn’t know what she wants. I never thought she’d fall for someone like Robert.”

  “Well, he’s very handsome and charmant, I suppose. Gorgeous really, let’s be honest.”

  “But he’s got no depth, from what I could tell. I doubt he ever reads anything. I’m no scholar, but I certainly have respect for intellectual work. Kate was too smart for him.”

  Victoria looked skeptical. “I don’t know about that, but I thought she was too smart to change so much for someone else. She wasn’t herself with him.”

  “That’s because he’s such a manipulative person. He managed to talk her out of her biggest interest, brainwashed her into giving up school. He’s malicious.”

  “I think that’s going too far. I give them both more credit than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She wasn’t happy with her work at NYU. If she had really liked anthropology, she would have stuck with it, but she didn’t want to go to grad school. She said so.”

  “No, no, no, no,” Angela said, realizing that Vicki didn’t understand the situation at all. “She loved her research. All that complex stuff she was doing? Looking at bones and whatever? She was perfectly happy with it until she met him. He talked her into thinking she didn’t like it.”

  “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Victoria said, passing the platter. “I saw him, Robert. I thought I should tell you.”

  “What? Why?” Angela asked. She breathed in too quickly, inhaled a breadcrumb, and started coughing.

  “He was in town, and he asked to see me.”

  “But why?” Angela choked.

  “You okay?”

  Angela took a sip of water and nodded her head.

  “I’ve known Robert for a long time,” Victoria said coolly, “longer than Kate has, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.”

  “Well, my God. What did he say?”

  “He’s sorry.”

  “Ppffft.”

  “No, really. He is, Angela. He was very contrite.”

  “I hope so. I hope he feels terrible.”

  “He does. He wishes he’d handled it differently.”

  “If he wants her back,” Angela said, “he can forget it.”

  “He doesn’t want that.”

  “What, then?”

  “He’s sorry, and he wants to make peace.”

  “Who cares what he wants?”

  “Well,” Vicki said, “I thought you should know.”

  “Sorry? Seriously? He should be sick with guilt every minute of the day. My God, if it weren’t for him, she’d be halfway through a PhD program by now.”

  Victoria handed her an endive leaf filled with herb cheese. “She made her own choices, though, right? You can’t put all the blame on him.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “He didn’t force her to turn down her spot in grad school. That was Kate’s decision.”

  “That’s not the point,” Angela said, getting muddled about what exactly Victoria was saying. “What do you mean?”

  “Robert knows he did things that were very wrong, and he wants to apologize to her, to make amends, to move on.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s moved on just fine. He’s probably got some hot girl in France, and he’s busy messing with her head as we speak.”

  “He doesn’t have a girl in France. Don’t you think it might help her move forward to hear him say he’s sorry?”

  “What? No. No, and I don’t think he should get the pleasure of apologizing. So that she’ll say, ‘Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry’?”

  “But she is fine now, right? She has a job, she’s back on her feet. Maybe seeing him would be good, a healing part of all this.”

  “He crushed her,” Angela said dramatically. “He broke her heart.”

  “But did he really? Or did he just mess up her plans?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m only wondering,” Victoria said, “could it be that she liked the idea of him, the idea of moving to Paris, more than she actually liked him? And could it be that she was more humiliated and disappointed than actually heartbroken?”

  “I don’t know. It all happened too fast,” she conceded. “Way too fast, I told her that. I said to slow down.”

  “She should have listened to you. I’m not trying to be mean,” Victoria said, “but she took a big risk, and it didn’t pan out. Now she needs to get over it. It can’t be good for her to harbor all this hatred for him. I read that holding on to anger causes cancer. And there’s also Chloe to consider. Her relationship with Robert is ruined.”

  “It is?”

  “Chloe hasn’t spoken to Robert since he broke up with Kate. She won’t take his calls, won’t answer his emails. It can’t go on like this forever. She’s going to have to see him eventually, and it would be best if she could get past this. If Kate forgives him, then she’ll feel like she can, too.”

  “I didn’t know she stopped talking to him.” Angela took another bite of bruschetta. “This is delicious,” she said with her mouth full, her hand trying to catch the crumbs that fell. She realized that Vicki wasn’t eating anything at all. “So Chloe just cut him off?”

  “Completely. And it’s not easy for her. Regardless of what Robert did or didn’t do, he and Chloe are way too close to throw their whole history together away. Can I be honest, Angela? It’s time for Kate to grow up. She should face Robert, and then we’ll all know that she’s over him, and you can expend less energy on her and put your attention where it belongs, on your husband and your little girl. And Chloe can have a normal relationship with her cousin again. Everything back to normal. Wouldn’t that give you some sense of relief?”

  Angela found it gratifying to be acknowledged so fully; her sacrifices had been noted by someone. “When would this be?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I was wondering if it might be better if it happened sort of by accident, without some elaborate plan.”

  “Like an ambush?”

  “Why make it a thing? He could run into her somewhere. Keep it quick and casual. Just a coincidental encounter.”

  “So,” Angela found herself saying, “she won’t get worried in advance, anticipating it?”

  “I’m not trying to be devious. I’m only trying to help. I think this is the best way. Here, have some more crudités.”

  Later that night Angela walked down Bleecker Street, looking for a cab. At the corner of Seventh Avenue, she stopped and took a moment to feel the baby move. An ambulance and a fire truck were working their way downtown through traffic, sirens blaring, horns honking, and she pulled her padded down coat across her stomach to muffle the offensive sound, wondering if New York City babies could be born with hearing damage. It was awful to feel like you couldn’t protect someone so vulnerable, someone you were supposed to be taking care of.

  Wait, she thought, running through the conversation she’d just had with Victoria. What did we decide?

  The applicant folder checklist: the preliminary application, the student supplement, prior year’s official transcript, current grades, the parent statement, ISEE scores and essay, two teacher recommendations (math and English), additional recommendations (optional), a graded writing sample, and the interview. Every day the mail came, e
ither snail or e-, and papers needed to be filed and checked off, both on the folder and in the electronic tracker. It was best to read the files once they were complete, but Kate would often take a peek at things as they arrived, especially with the kids who stood out for one reason or another.

  Annie Allsworth

  Student Supplement: Essay Question #2: Consider a problem, setback, or disappointment you have faced. How did you overcome it, and what did you learn from the experience?

  A problem that I once faced in my life was when Hurricane Sandy ravaged the East Coast, leaving wreckage and misery in its wake. Hurricane Sandy was a devastating storm for people living in New York and New Jersey, as many victims lost power, their homes, and sometimes even their lives. We have a home in the Hamptons, and sadly I suffered the devastation firsthand. This experience really made me remember what is important to me.

  When our caretaker called us in the city to tell us that our Hamptons house had been hit, I started crying and crying and could not stop. How could this happen to me? And why? How could I lose a place that means so much to me and my family? We have made so many wonderful memories at my weekend house, and I am attached to it in a way that is hard to explain to anyone who is not in my family. I am even more attached to it than I am to my summer house in France. Fortunately the damage was not as bad as I feared. A tree fell on one small part of our home, crushing the guest suite and the sunroom. The pictures of it made me upset, and I was even sad about the pretty tree that lost its life from the harsh gusts of wind.

  But then things went from bad to worse. We got another call, this time from the police, saying that the house had been robbed. Greedy thieves took advantage of our tragedy and broke into the house through the opening in the wall where the tree fell. They took the family silver, the computer in the playroom, and an expensive set of my dad’s golf clubs. When I heard this, I was so angry. How could people be so evil and take things that do not belong to them? I couldn’t believe that people would invade our house, and my first thought was, “I never want to go back there ever again.” But then I realized that if I never went back to my weekend house that would mean that the robbers had won. How could I let them win? If my dream is to spend time in the home I love, then that is what I should do.