Page 76 - In Five Years

Chapter Twelve

I leave work at seven on Monday, a full hour before I should, and meet Bella at
Snack Taverna in the West Village. It’s this tiny bistro, the best Greek food in the
city, and we’ve been going there since we moved to New York—way before I

could afford to.
Bella is back to being fifteen minutes late. I order us fava beans drenched in
olive oil and garlic—her favorite. They’re on the table when she arrives.

She texted me back this morning and demanded we have dinner tonight. It
has been too long, she said. I feel like you’re avoiding me.
I rarely leave work early, if ever. When David and I make dinner reservations

they’re always for eight-thirty or nine. But now it’s a little past seven, still light
out, and I’m sitting here. Bella has always been the only person in my life who
can talk me out of my norm.

“It’s so hot out there,” she says when she arrives. She’s wearing a white
brocade-and-lace dress from Zimmermann and gold lace-up sandals. Her hair is

up in a topknot, some loose strands dangling down her neck.
“It’s a swamp. Summer always happens so suddenly.” I lean over the table
and kiss her on the cheek. I’ve sweated through my silk shirt and pencil skirt. I
own basically no summer clothes. Luckily the air conditioning is on full blast in

here.
“How was the weekend?” she asks. “Did you sleep at all?”

I smile. “No.”
She shakes her head. “You loved it.”
“Maybe.” I scoop some beans onto her plate. I have to know: “Did you guys
hear anything more about the apartment?”