||Arden||
"We're going to hold this pose while we exhale. Let the stress of the week leave your body with your breath." Devon's calming voice directs. I've been coming to Art and Soul yoga studio every Sunday morning since I moved here. It's almost like a religion for me.
Devon is an amazing teacher without being too "find your inner child" about it. He always puts on music during his classes. Today it's my favorite album, "Some Girls" by The Rolling Stones. Nothing relaxes me like Mick's vocals and Keith's smooth guitars.
"How was your week, Arden?" Devon asks me after class. He's pulling his waist-length dreads back into a ponytail.
"Interesting and somewhat stressful. I needed this today." I answered honestly as I roll up my mat.
"Well, I'm glad I could help." He's always been nice to me and even helped me find me apartment when I first moved here. He excuses himself to talk to another one of his students.
I head out on the two block walk to my apartment. The air is chilly and I wish I'd worn warmer clothes. A text notification comes through my headphones. It's from Mariah.
"Brunch?" is all it says.
"Sure. I'm on my way back to my place. Time and place?" I text back.
"Georgio's at 11?"
"See you then" I know she probably just wants to grill me about Harry, but I haven't made a lot of friends since moving here in July and I'm not in a position to be picky.
I arrive at my building and start climbing the four flights of stairs to my apartment. I'm greeted at the door by a grumpy Jack who is annoyed that he hasn't been fed yet.
"I'm sorry, I was running late this morning." I coo as I pick him up. "Let's get my poor baby some food." I watch him for a few minutes to make sure he eats. I talk to my cat more than any sane person should.
After a quick shower, I walk across my cozy studio to my massive vinyl collection. I survey the overflowing shelves and attempt to pick out something to listen to while I'm getting ready. I finally settle on a Hollies record. It's one of the few things I have left of my mother.
I never got to meet her. She died giving birth to me and my father made sure I knew it every chance he got. All I have left of her is a stack of records and a framed picture. I found both in an old trunk in my father's attic when I was in high school. The picture sets beside my turntable; we have the same red hair. I feel like these records are my only connection to her.
In high school, I would close myself in my room and listen to them over and over while pouring over my homework. As soon as I had spending money I would spend entire afternoons in thrift shops, flea markets and record stores searching for first edition, used records. Records my mother would have chosen for herself; records my mother may have held at some point.
I finish applying my makeup, throw on some jeans, a henley and grab my jacket. I lower the dust cover on my turntable, turn out the lights and take my phone of it's charger.
"Bye Jack. I'll be back soon." I lean down to kiss the top of his head before leaving. Fortunately, Mariah has chosen a place I can walk to, so I won't have to bother with the subway. I put my headphones in and let the Beatles be the soundtrack to my walk.
New York City is a lot more lively than Ithaca, but I am enjoying living here. It was a big adjustment, but I love the independence of living alone in the city that never sleeps. There's always something new to see or do. Even if that something new is a drunk pissing off a stoop. Which is something I see far too often.
I pull out my headphones as I enter the restaurant. Mariah is waving me over from a booth in the back.
"I'm surprised you can walk after last night." she jokes.
"Christ, Mariah." I slide into the seat across from her.
"So, spill. What happened?" she demands.
"I hope this isn't the only reason you wanted to meet up. You're going to be disappointed."
"I already ordered for us, by the way. I hope that's okay. French toast, eggs and mimosas?" I nod. "Now, tell me everything."
"Well first off, he apologized for being a jackass. We went for coffee and just kinda small talked the whole time. I felt like I had to keep asking him questions to keep the conversation going."
"Well, that's where you messed up."
"Where? In asking questions?"
"No, in talking at all." I roll my eyes.
"I can't figure him out. At first I thought he was a rude asshole. Then I thought he was an asshole who just wanted in my pants. And now.."
"He's just an asshole?" Mariah interrupts.
"Nooo." I laugh. "He wasn't rude when we got coffee, he was just very guarded."
"He's probably has a lot of secrets." she whispers dramatically "I saw this Lifetime movie once.."
"Please don't finish that sentence." I interrupt.
"What? It was based on a true story!" she defends. I shake my head.
"I honestly don't think I'll hear from him again."
"You didn't get his number?" she asks.
"No. He didn't really offer it. And he has a flip phone."
"Ew." Mariah responds as she looks down at her iPhone.
"I thought it was kinda weird, but he said it was for work. Maybe he's one of those "too cool for Facebook" types who hates modern technology." I theorize out loud. The waitress brings our food over and refills our drinks.
"Where does he work?" Mariah asks as she pours syrup on her french toast.
"The Triton. You know that big casino in Atlantic City?"
"That huge one right in the middle of the strip?" she asks. I nod my head yes; my mouth is full of eggs. "What exactly is his job there?" I shrug.
"I asked him, but he just gave me this vague answer."
"Hold up. He won't tell you what his job is and he won't give you his number? That's shady as hell."
"Now that I think about it, I have his number on file at the hospital." I volunteer. Mariah doesn't look convinced.
"I don't know, Arden. Something about this just doesn't seem right to me. And do you know who uses flip phones?" she pauses for a moment. "Drug dealers, that's who."
"I think you need to lay off the Lifetime movies."
"No, I'm serious. I saw it on 20/20 or something."
"Okay, Mariah." I humor her. "How's school going?" I ask changing the subject from Harry.
"Awful." She groans.
"What's wrong?"
"I just don't know what I want to do. Getting into veterinary school is hard and I honestly don't know if I'm up to it. I'm barely scraping by in calculus." she confides, the frustration clear in her voice.
"Getting into veterinary school is hard, but if that's what you want, you need to buckle down and power through." I encourage.
"Okay, Miss Ivy League. We can't all get into Cornell." she jokes.
"I worked my ass off for that." I defend. "I had no social life in high school, academics was my only priority."
"I need to make academics my only priority." she grumbles. "How old are you anyway? You seem young to be a veterinarian already.
"Twenty three." I answer. "I graduated high school two years early. Like I said, I worked my ass off for Cornell."
"Damn." she says impressed. "I think I just need to get rid of distractions and really buckle down on school." she explains with her mouth full. He phone vibrates on the table. "Distractions like this." she points to the phone. "Stupid boys blowing up my phone all the time. "
"Is there a pre-veterinary club on campus? Or a sorority that has a lot of pre-veterinary pledges?" she rolls her eyes when I say 'sorority'.
"A sorority, really?" the disgust is clear in her voice.
"I was a member of Delta Gamma Chi. There's no way I would have gotten through veterinary school without their support. Just something to think about."
The rest of the meal is spent griping about work and Mariah telling me what slobs her roommates are. When we're finished eating we go our separate ways; she says has a lot of homework and is feeling freshly motivated.
Once I'm home I make a pot of coffee and settle on my futon with my laptop and Jack. Talking about Cornell has me feeling nostalgic; I spend the next hour looking through my tagged pictures on Facebook and messaging with my sorority sisters. I make plans with to meet with one of them later in the week.
After I run out sisters to stalk, I decide to see if Harry has a Facebook. After my initial search turns up nothing, I try Google. I find a few people by the name Harry Styles, but not the one I'm looking for. He's just one of those people who don't do social media I tell myself as Mariah's remarks about him being shady creep into my mind.
I pull up the Triton's website to see if they have any sort of staff directory. All I can find is the owner's name: Louis Tomlinson. I try Googling him; no Facebook but there is article after article about him donating to charities or sponsoring community events.
He seems like a stand up guy. Harry has a flip phone because his boss wants to free up funds for charity, I reason with myself. That's not shady; that's admirable. Satisfied with my findings, I close my laptop and start gathering up my laundry for a trip to the laundromat.
A.N. What do you think of Arden so far?
Don't forget to check out the aesthetics post for this chapter on my Tumblr (xximathief.tumblr.com)