Copyright © 2014 Jennifer Domenico
Bloody hell! I cannot believe I overslept. Stupidly, I forgot to turn on my alarm clock last night. How could I miss something this important? As much as I want to lament my forgetfulness, I can’t now. I need to rush to get ready for my interview. It took forever to get this appointment with the Foreign Languages Department and here I am, struggling to get dressed in time to catch the train.
I can just hear my mum’s nagging voice, “Never prepared, are you, dear?” Well, on that note, she might have a point. I do have a nasty habit of showing up close to late. I like to call it perfectly on time. Rifling through my overflowing sock drawer, I grab a pair of black tights. Wait. Tights in August? Better reconsider. Glancing down at my too pale legs, I desperately wish it was cold enough to cover them up. I squeeze into my plaid knee length skirt and zip it. Shit! It’s a bit tight. No time to change though.
I need to look extra smart today. Impressing the department head is my only goal. Not only do I want this job, I need it. It’s time to start making my own money and stop living off the stipend my parents provide. But to do that, I need to get there.
I take one last glance in the mirror and realize I forgot earrings. Normally I wouldn’t care, but this is Harvard University for Christ’s sake. I run to my jewelry box, grab a pair of pearl earrings, and put them in. Good enough.
In the living room, I see my flat mate sleeping on the couch. Why can’t the girl make it into her own bedroom?
“Madeleine, wake up.” I shove the slumbering mass with my Mary Jane heeled foot.
She rolls over, waving her arms above her head. “Wha’…what the hell, Londyn?”
“You had too much to drink again, didn’t ya?”
“Maybe.” She grins. “Why you up so early?”
“Harvard? Ring a bell?”
Madeleine sits up, her blond hair a tangled mess and the heavy eyeliner she wore the night before smeared around her eyes. The smoky eye look she was going for has morphed into more of a raccoon look. Not flattering. As usual, she’s wearing the same clothes she left in- a tight black dress that makes it clear Madeleine is not lacking in the bosom department.
“You look awful,” I say.
Madeleine smiles. “Maybe, but I feel incredible,” she says as she tousles her hair. “You should have seen him- gorgeous. A bit of wanker, though, but aren’t they all.”
Seeing the remnants of two take away containers on the coffee table, I cross my arms and give a tired sigh. “Did you bring another one of your dirty boys in here again? I’ve asked you not to do that anymore. It’s not safe.”
“What’s not safe about a quick shag between pals? I knew this one. Wouldn’t kill you to have a go every now and then, would it? These Boston boys are scrumptious.”
I roll my eyes. “I have to go or I’m going to be late.”
“You’ll do great. Hey, can you go to Falafel Kings and get me one of those amazing sandwiches?”
“If I have time,” I say. “I thought you started your no-carb diet again?”
“Ah, yeah, but I die for those sandwiches. Just a little one, no chips.”