Page 48 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Damn.” I’m startled by all this. I knew she felt down on her luck, but this is big.

“Anyway, to make a long story short, I got into some debt. My roommate covered my half of the rent when I couldn’t, and my mom loaned me some money, which she couldn’t afford because my dad is off having a midlife crisis on the other side of the world.”

“Whoa.”

“And I think my roommate wants to move in with her boyfriend but feels like she has to stay because I can’t afford to live alone.” She sighs. “So when they tell me I should get a real job, I feel like maybe I should, because I need to pay them back. My dad’s the only one who’s encouraged me to go for it, but then, I don’t owe him money. Also, he’s not exactly a model of responsibility right now.”

I give my head a shake. “Uh, you weren’t kidding. That’s a lot.”

“Right?” Her smile is crooked.

I study her face. The shadows in her eyes tell me how much she hates the situation she’s in, but I also see a determined set to her jaw and pride in the way she holds her head up. “You need to do what’s right for you,” I say slowly. “I’m sure your friend and your family understand.”

“I hope so. I just want…to be successful at something. So I’m doing it.”

“Good.” A small ache develops behind my breastbone at her words. Her desire to be successful and prove herself. Don’t we all want that? But for her it’s even more poignant, given what she’s been through.

“It’ll all work out,” she says with a lift of her chin. “The lawsuit. My new business. It’s going to be fine.”

Our lunches arrive and we spend a few minutes in silence as the server refills water glasses and we pick up our cutlery to dig in.

I think about the conversation we just had. Not just her sharing what she did, but me as well. I feel like something shifted. Like we’re both seeing each other a little differently. Not that I looked down on her, but it seemed to me like she was someone who breezes through life without a care. Show me someone who’s always cheerful and smiling, always expecting things to work out, and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.

But now I can see she does have a clue. She’s smart and fierce and she’s been through some heavy shit. And at first, she was clearly unimpressed with me, but now I think she’s looking at me with a little more respect. Maybe.

“Thanks for telling me,” I say. “It must have been hard going through that.”

She nods. “Not to be all depressing, but yeah. I struggled. My boyfriend broke up with me because of it, which didn’t help.”

My mouth falls open. “What the fuck?”

She grins. “Right? Way to kick someone when she’s down. But honestly, I don’t blame him. I was staying in bed all day, drinking too much, watching every episode of I Am a Killer on Netflix.”

My eyebrows fly up. “I Am a Killer?”

“It’s really good! Those people are so messed up.”

“I can see why your boyfriend was worried.”

She laughs, and it’s a genuine, mirthful laugh. “I know. He probably thought I was going to murder him. I just got fascinated with it. It kind of made me realize my life isn’t so bad. Anyway, if he couldn’t stick with me through bad times, he wasn’t worth it.”

“Absolutely. Prick.”

She nods and reaches for some fries. “Want some salmon?”

“Yep.” We exchange food.

I’m impressed that she stood up for her beliefs with her employer. It sucks that she got fired for it. I’m not exactly someone who believes in suing over every little thing, and it sounds like her life was pretty fucked up because of what happened, but I admire her courage. I also reluctantly admire her belief that it’s all going to work out. It’s foreign to me. Scary. Which makes her…brave?

The rest of our lunch conversation is lighter, more impersonal—things we like to do in New York. We both love theater and restaurants and music. We both love the energy and the diversity of the city and the different neighborhoods. I’m not much into museums or galleries, but I’m open to checking them out. And we both have a weird fondness for the subway, dirty and crowded as it can be.

“You see the strangest things,” Lilly says, holding another French fry. “The most interesting people. And it’s so strange, thinking that you’re riding through all these tunnels and the whole city is above you. I love the old-fashioned, European feel of Grand Central Terminal.”

“Yeah! That’s what I thought too—it reminded me of Europe. I played in hockey tournaments there, in Germany and Italy.”

“Cool.”

Our server offers dessert and when we decline brings the check. We keep talking about travel—places we’ve been, places we want to go. Then Lilly reaches for her phone and checks the time. “Oops! I better go. I have to pick up Apollo soon.”

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