Graduates in Wonderland (32 page)

The future doesn't scare me anymore, the way it used to. I like that Sam saw my life in Beijing—­that when I mention Isla, he knows ­exactly who I am talking about. There's something very comforting about that. We already have history, despite being relatively new.

I'm here for less than a week and then I'm going back to Melbourne and he'll be alone again. I always knew Sam was good, but I didn't know anyone was this good. Even though we'll be apart again for a short time, I have to remember that he'll be joining me soon.

Right. I'm off to have tea with a chicken.

Love,

Jess

JUNE 20

Rachel to Jess

Liza Minnelli? And I'M the old lady between the two of us?

The country life sounds so far away from Paris. It's like an elaborate test from a fairy tale or something. Josh left yesterday, and I was really sad to see him go. I'm realizing that no matter where I go, I'll always be missing someone. It helps me to think of the world like this, though:

Buenos Aires = Rosabelle

Oslo = Astrid

Beijing = Old Jess

Melbourne = Current Jess

New York = Josh and Platonic Nick

These cities house my favorite people, and I find it reassuring. It makes the world feel smaller.

On Josh's last day at work, we walked out of American Prep together to a café to spend our last few hours together. I think he told Sylvia that other people would be there too, but it was just the two of us.

I decided to give him my Hemingway book from Cuba. He's a traveler, and I want him to remember how much he believed in his epic life here. He needs it, and I don't need it anymore, and more than all of that, I want him to remember me.

As we stood up to go, I handed him the book,
Fiesta
.

“I want you to have this,” I said. “I want you to remember why you came to Paris.”

He said, “This is the best present I've ever gotten.” Then, because he is the most honest person ever, he added, “Well, one of the top ten presents I've ever gotten.”

In terms of the fortune-­teller Astrid and I saw, I think that Josh might have been The One before the One. He knew me, even before he got engaged to Sylvia, and he still chose her. For some reason, I can understand that more than what happened between Olivier and me. I know the reason why Josh isn't with me (obviously, Sylvia), while Olivier's reasons remain completely opaque.

Josh walked me home, and when we reached my building he gave me my first (and last) bear hug. It was as good as I always thought it would be. I can't believe I won't be seeing his face every day anymore. It's so strange how people become so tied up with your experience of a place. I won't be able to remember Paris without thinking about him. It really makes me realize how different the experience of living here has been from what I thought it would be.

I got an e-mail from Platonic Nick. He and his best friend, Tyler, (remember him from across the street senior year?) are traveling through Europe and staying with me next week. I haven't seen either of them since New York and can't picture their jovial, loud bickering on my quiet street in Paris. It'll be nice to be around some goofy American boys again, but if they get into one of their three-­hour-­long conversations about Spider-­Man's superego, I'm going to give them a basket of croissants and two cheek kisses each, and then I'm going to swiftly drop them off at the American Embassy.

Love,

Rach

JUNE 27

Jess to Rachel

??????? ARJKFJKLDJFDKLS

That's how it feels inside my brain right now.

I've applied for several reporting jobs because my journalism program ends very soon, but I haven't heard back from any of them. I also e-mailed a journalist at the Australian Broadcasting Company who liked my radio piece on the punk band touring through Asia. He referred me to an executive producer who works for a news radio program that specializes in Asian affairs. I sent the producer my résumé and went in for an interview, and after half an hour, he said he'd love to get me trained and started on some radio shifts right away. I could barely sit still. My mind was racing.

“I'm going to be a paid radio journalist reporting on Asia. I might even get sent to Asia sometimes. I can't believe this is happening. Don't blink too hard at him. Oh God, I cannot believe this is finally happening.”

Then he took me around the building before steering me to the head of the department, an older blond woman named Dana. She looked me up and down and the only thing she said was, “So you're an American? You're far from home....How long are you planning on staying here?”

I reassured her that I was going to stay in Melbourne and couldn't wait to start the job.

Then the producer walked me out, saying he'd e-mail me the shift schedule and a contract that afternoon. I left the building and left a message for Sam, telling him that I had big news. Great news.

While sitting on the tram, I stared out the window but saw nothing. I kept thinking, I'm finally going to be a real journalist, and I get to report on China. Maybe even get sent there. Everything is aligning.

Then my phone buzzed.

It was a text from the executive producer. He was rescinding his offer.

“I'm really sorry, Jess, but Dana wants to go with someone who is permanently based here. It's difficult to process your visa and we've spent too much time on international recruits who have left Melbourne very shortly after training. I'm really sorry about the misunderstanding, but we can't take the risk. Good luck.”

And that was it. The five-­minute dream was over. I immediately replied asking for clarification or another chance, but he did not respond.

I feel so deflated and frustrated. I wanted this job so much. When Sam called me back from the vineyard and I told him what happened, he seemed to think about it for a long time. He said that when he gets back to Melbourne in a few weeks, he wants to have a talk. My heart is sinking. I don't know what this is about, but he told me not to worry.

All I want to do now is put on pajamas and hit things.

Love,

Jess

P.S. I hate Tyler. I sent him a Facebook message three years ago and he never replied. Tell Nick hello.

JULY 7

Rachel to Jess

Wow, seriously?! I'm so sorry. What do you think you're going to do now?

When we live abroad, we aren't just trying to be young entry-­level workers, but we're also competing with, and trying to catch up with, people who have lived here for years. We have to work ten times harder than we would back home, but I think the thrill of living in different countries is irreplaceable, even if it is intangible. But it's also hard to see while you're in the midst of the struggle.

Nick and Tyler left the other day, and I can say with certainty that everybody's life is confusing right now. Tyler has just decided to return home to Ithaca to go to medical school—­after spending the past two years working in publishing—­and Nick wants to leave his gallery job, but doesn't know what he wants to do next. Seeing them was just confirmation that staying in New York wouldn't have made my life better.

Meanwhile, here are some highlights from the week Nick and Tyler spent ruining my life:

• I had to sleep on an air mattress and they shared my bed. However, they were too “manly” to sleep side by side so they slept head to toe. Every morning Nick woke up to Tyler kicking him in the face.
  
• Snoring. My God, the snoring. And yet they made fun of my snoring! Not okay. Tyler tempered this by saying it sounded feminine, but Nick laughed and said I sounded like a hibernating bear. I wanted to yell, “Fine, Nick, so get out of my fucking cave!” but instead I silently cursed them and their hipster glasses.
  
• I had to show them around the city like they were children. “Look! Big church!” “Look! River!” “Look! A French policeman!!!” This was very frustrating after having spent so much time trying to assimilate here, only to become the kind of tour guide I avoid.
  
• They were both so picky about food and they only ate what they referred to as “baguette sandwiches.” This is not what they are called. And also, you are in Paris, and you only want to eat sandwiches?
  

Finally, on their last day here, I sent them to a rock climbing gym in the middle of nowhere even though I knew it would take them half the day to get there and back. They didn't love the gym, but it was totally worth my three-­hour nap of uninterrupted bliss. Then we all went out for some baguette sandwiches.

They both still love comic books and ironic T-shirts. I wished that I could fall in love with them because it was fun being with witty American guys and being able to banter fluently. That said, I was thrilled when they left.

New measure of love: letting someone stay with you for an extended amount of time and not having it drive you insane.

But my biggest news is: I got the funding for UCL! Now I'll only be
one
hundred thousand dollars in debt! This means I'll be living on twenty-­five thousand dollars a year in London—­not enough for celebratory champagne, but enough for cheap boxed wine. I'll still be working for American Prep, though, so I'll get to teach wealthy British teenagers how to write like straight-­A American students (they can teach me how to address a duke).

Oh! And Rosabelle e-mailed me—­she's coming back from Argentina for law school in the States. Are we ALL just putting off our inevitable destinies as attorneys by staying abroad for a few more years?

Love,

Ithaca is Gorges

P.S. Tyler says he's sorry he never replied to your Facebook message.

JULY 18

Jess to Rachel

Careful what you wish for—­you could become a lawyer in London, and if you do, you have to wear one of those stupid wigs.

But seriously, do you think you'll be in London for a long time? I don't know how many more times I can uproot my life. I'm beginning to think that all of the energy we've taken relocating to new places should be put toward creating a life that's sustainable. Otherwise we're going to be sixty and all of our possessions will still be floating around in one giant purse.

Sam finally came home to Melbourne from the vineyard, weary and super scruffy. He reached into his backpack and said, “Here. I bet you've missed him.” And then he handed me Brian Flanagan, whom he had wrapped carefully in a T-shirt. Sam had taken Brian all the way to Canowindra and then packed him up again and taken him on the bus, train, and the flight to Melbourne. Here he was. Spiky. Green. Stumpy. Still alive.

Sam arrived in the evening, and in the middle of unpacking, he said he wanted to talk, really talk, about what we are doing in Melbourne, since my program is ending in a week. He told me that while he was on the vineyard, he realized he was tired of messing around with his life.

“I just started to wonder why I was in the middle of rural Australia doing manual labor. I'm English, and I have a university degree. My friends back home have already been promoted multiple times while I've been pruning grapevines and living in the Strawberry Bale House with Lily.”

I had nothing to say to this. Was he breaking up with me? Was he going to leave me and go back to England? Did he want to move on without me?

I stared at him.

“So what does this mean?” I asked him.

He said, “I'm nearly twenty-­seven and I've been traveling for over two years. I was happy to go to the vineyard because I love you and this was the only way to stay together in Australia. But even if we find jobs now, it will be difficult to get long-­term visas—­like what happened with your radio job. And if we're both going to struggle to find fulfilling work in Australia, then why are we here?” he asked.

“Because we have nowhere else to go?” I said. “Maybe we could move back to China?”

He shook his head. I could probably find journalism work in Beijing now that I have experience, but he doesn't know Mandarin and we'd be in the exact same position a year or two from now—­trying to decide where to go next.

I can't work in the United Kingdom. He can't work in the United States. We'll both eventually be kicked out of Australia if we can't find work. We both sat in silence until he said something that I had always feared he would say.

“I would love to move to London. It's a great city and all of my best friends live there. I've been gone from England for a really long time,” he said.

During this entire exchange, we'd been sitting together at the foot of the bed, and at this point, I stood up.

“But what about me?” I asked him. I picked up Brian Flanagan. “What about us?” I asked, trying to smile.

“There are ways for us to move to London together,” he said.

He and I both knew the only way. Marriage. Neither of us said the word.

“We need to think about what we want for the future,” Sam said. “If we have a future, it's either in America or in England. We both like New York and London. We can't keep floating around forever,” he said. “I need to start my real life now.”

This went on for a while, until we decided that we should think separately about what we wanted, and sleep on it.

Right now, he's fast asleep in our bed.

But I can't sleep at all. Rachel, what do I do? What do
we
do?

He was right about a lot of things. I'm tired of starting over in new countries. The first two times were exciting, but the next place I go, I want to stay for a long time. Each time, it gets harder and harder to leave behind my friends, my work, and all of my ­connections. I'd love to be in a place where I can have 113 books without giving them all away in a year or buy something that weighs more than five pounds.

Tough life questions. Shit. New York or London for the rest of my life? Annie Hall or Bridget Jones? The West Village or Notting Hill? Being a lowly intern at the
New York Times
or the
Guardian
? BAGELS OR SCONES?