Page 117 of Better Than Gelato
“We can stay like this all day.”
So we do. We lay on our backs staring at the ceiling. He tells me all the things he’s nervous about in med school and all the things he’s excited about. I tell him how amazing my photography class is and funny things that happened at work.
We eat lunch at a little Greek restaurant nearby and then Jake takes me on a tour of Columbia University.
Cobblestone paths cut through vibrant expanses of green grass leading to old buildings covered in ivy. Students mill around wearing cardigans—actual cardigans—like they’re being filmed for a Columbia propaganda video.
“What do you think?” Jake asks.
“It’s amazing. I think you chose well.”
That night, we go to a mixer for new med students. Jake introduces himself to some people, and by the end of the night so do I.
“Juliet Evans, pediatric neurology,” I say to the tenth group of people we’ve met.
“Pediatric neurology huh?” Jake says. “I had no idea.”
“I am very interested in feet,” I say with my most serious expression.
Jake laughs and kisses me and whispers, “I love you,” in my ear.
We duck out after an hour and head back to Jake’s place. We eat Chinese takeout on the roof and soak in the sights and sounds of the city and the magic of being together again.
The next day we tour NYC—visiting Times Square, taking a boat out to the Statue of Liberty, and watching Wicked on Broadway. Late afternoon finds us under a tree in Central Park, Jake’s head in my lap. We look up at the clouds. We watch people pushing strollers and jogging. We lose track of time.
For dinner, Jake takes me to a Brazilian steakhouse. Tuxedoed servers roam the room with giant slabs of roasted meat. It’s absurdly delicious and by the time we leave, I feel like I am 90% roasted meats.
The sun has set and the city glows with a million lights. Jake slides his hand into mine and leads us to the Brooklyn Bridge.
“What do you think of New York?” he asks.
“I feel like a traitor to the West Coast, but I love it.”
“And you liked Columbia, right? I mean the campus and everything?”
“I did. It’s easy for me to picture you happy here.”
“And what about you?” He squeezes my hand.
“What about me?”
“Do you think you could be happy here?”
I take a deep breath and look at the traffic zipping past. I knew this conversation was coming, I was just hoping to put it off a while longer.
I’m trying to formulate the best response, but Jake continues.
“Just imagine how easy everything would be if you transferred here. We’d see each other every day. We could eat lunch together, study at the library together. Maybe next year we even get an apartment together.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I look up at him.
“ Jake…”
“If you’re worried about getting in, the acceptance rate is a lot higher for transfer students. I think you’d have a good shot.”
“I’m not worried about getting in,” I say slowly. “I already got into a school I love. In fact, I got a scholarship. And I worked and fought to get into my photography program. And I love it.”
“I know, but I’m sure they have photography here. I mean, I don’t know what to do about your scholarship, but we could figure something out. Plus graduating from an Ivy League would give you a lot more career options.”
