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I’m packing up my clothes, taking my original outfits from the bottom drawers of my—well, Elijah’s family’s walk-in closet and putting them into my old suitcase.
When I told Ella the CliffsNotes version of what happened post-hackathon, how all the poop hit the fan, she jumped on a plane and came to hold my hand. That’s what best friends—with emergency credit cards and rich grandmothers who don’t pay attention—do, apparently. I’m so grateful. Because I don’t know that I could walk away from New York, from Elijah, alone.
Elijah and I haven’t spoken since our big fight in Central Park two days ago. I want to reach out to him, but I don’t know what I’d say. And I’m still hurt by his words, and even more so, the look in his eyes that I was a completely different person, someone he didn’t know at all.
Ella reaches for one of the cardigans folded in a top drawer. “Holy shit, this Givenchy cashmere is so freaking soft.” She pulls it out and holds it up against herself as she looks in the full-length mirror. “Are you sure you don’t want to take anything home with you? Did they say you couldn’t?”
I shrug. “They didn’t really tell me much, to be honest. But I don’t think it’s right. Anyways, these never really were my clothes. I just borrowed them. Just like I was borrowing this identity. So don’t get that sweater dirty, okay? I can’t imagine what the dry-cleaning bill would be.”
“You could call your aunt Eunice and ask her,” Ella suggests with a sly smile.
“I don’t think Suds and Steamers has ever handled anything that nice,” I say.
“They won’t miss one little sweater.” Ella’s eyes are pleading, her mouth in a pout. “There are a lot of clothes here. Just this one piece, please,” she whines.
I laugh. She really is too adorable. But I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side...well, anyoneelse’sbad side, that is. What I don’t need is to be arrested for stealing.
“When will you ever wear a cashmere sweater living in Orange County?” I ask.
“It’s not aboutneedingit. It’s aboutwantingit. So soft,” she says, rubbing it against her cheek.
“And therein lies the exact mindset of the filthy rich,” I say. The truth stings. Maybe I would have considered it an inconsequential thing before, taking home just one piece from this entirely new wardrobe. But after hearing Elijah call me out on enjoying this all a little too much, well, I don’t want to look too closely at whether that is true or not.
“You should take the clothes with you and sell them like the con artist dude on that Netflix documentary,” Ella suggests. “Didn’t he live off the money for a while?”
“Wait, wasn’t it his girlfriend who ended up stealing his clothes and selling them to pay back the money he took from her?”
“Whatever, either way, who’s gonna wear this stuff? It’s probably just going to charity,” Ella says. She really is taking this much harder than I am.
“I don’t even know if they’re that generous, this family.” The words leave a sour taste in my mouth. I shouldn’t talk down about the entire family. I know that both Elijah and Hee-Jin are incredibly generous. Like the first dinner I had with Elijah, when he ordered so much food at that old Italian restaurant because he wanted to share with me. And Hee-Jin got us thoseHamiltontickets. That was the night Elijah kissed me.
The vise grip these memories have on my heart makes it hard to breathe. I know now how decidedly different our lives are. It’s clear why Elijah and I could never work. In society’s eyes, he’s not just out of my league—we’re not even playing the same sport.
I swallow back the disappointment and sadness. I can’t drown in my feelings about the unfairness of it all. I have to look ahead and figure out what to do next. I wonder if I’ll ever get to stop worrying about the future and just enjoy the present.
If there’s one thing I won’t let myself regret from this summer, it’s the fun I had with Elijah in each moment. I don’t want to imagine what tomorrow looks like when I’m back home and won’t see him at the office or have the chance to explore parts of the city together.
I want to talk to him, to settle things so we can move forward, whatever that looks like. I don’t think I’ll get the chance, though. And if I did, would he even want to see me?
“Hey, you okay?” Ella walks over beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“Yeah, just thinking of everything I need to do before we leave. My dad is gonna be here in a few hours to take us to The Met and then to the airport. I have to finish packing.”
Ella gives me a small squeeze. “Are you gonna try and talk to Elijah before we go?” Hearing Ella say his name out loud makes me miss him even more. I hate not knowing what’s happening between him and his dad. I hope he’s alright.
“I doubt I’ll have time,” I say, the words coming out of my mouth like I’m choking.
Ella turns me around so I’m facing her, her hands firmly on my shoulders as she peers into my eyes. I know she’s looking to see how fragile I am, so I muster a smile. I may not be okay in this moment, but I will be. I have to be.
She nods wordlessly and carefully folds the overpriced but oh-so-pretty cardigan, putting it back in the drawer where she found it.
“You don’t need this stuff anyways. I like you just fine no matter what you wear. Even that ratty three-seasons-old shirt from Urban Outfitters,” she teases, tugging at my sleeve.
“Four seasons old, actually,” I laugh. “It was on clearance too.”
We continue packing in comfortable silence until Ella asks, “What are you gonna do when you get home?”
“Stick with the original plan: go to junior college, get a job, save up some money, transfer as soon as I’m able.” Truth be told, it all sounds a little miserable now. Before the summer, I’d accepted this fate for myself. But it’s hard going back after having had this opportunity, knowing what’s possible and what I’m capable of.
