Ice To Meet You

The Broke-lyn Times

Hannah goes to collect the keys of our studio apartment and I unload the boxes from our Uber XL. I am glad to dodge the social interaction required to meet and greet our landlord. The area we are living in, Williamsburg, is not as expensive as Manhattan but is still a steep jump from college life. I hope I like it.

I have unloaded all our stuff, mine was 5 boxes compared Hannah's 50 thousand boxes and she is still not back. What is she doing since the past 5 hours I have been breaking my back? Is she planning her wedding?

Sometimes Hannah gets so engrossed in her socializing that she selfishly forgets about me, which is fine. I can live my own life but right now I need her to come out. I call her phone, she doesn't pick up.

I call again and leave three texts in caps locks. After a 6-hour bus ride and all morning spent packing, I am irritable, exhausted and cranky. Add to that, I am only functioning on one XL coffee. I want to punch the wall for being in my way and scream at the air for not blowing fast enough.

Hannah strolls out of the building after what feels like an eternity with a half-eaten vanilla ice cream cone.

"Don't kill her just yet Mia!" The inner voice says. Even she is pissed at her right now.

"The landlords are chill, you'll love them. Also, a bunch of cute guys invited us to the hot tub. Did you know we have a hot tub on the roof?" Hannah asks, continuing to eat her ice cream. I am so tempted to rip it out of her hands and throw it on the floor. Can she not tell how infuriated I am? My calves are throbbing in agony and I don't know how long I can continue to stand. Today has been a long day and it's not even 1 p.m.

"I won't love the landlords and a bunch of cute guys did not invite us, they invited you. They did not even see me. And I don't give a fuck about the rooftop hot tub. I just want to be comfy in my blanket settled in. I don't care about all this right now." The voice inside my head says and for once I can't tell if it is the bitchy one or just my inner voice. Somebody help me already.

"Can we please take the stuff upstairs?" I plead.

"The boys are coming in 5, they'll help us. Do you want some ice-cream?" She shoves the ice cream in my face in an attempt to offer me some.

"Kill her, nobody will ever know it's you," definitely the bitch remarks and I am starting to warm up to her. She is angry, aggressive and out for some blood, which is totally my vibe right now. I wipe the ice-cream off my face and kick her leg to take revenge.

"I didn't mean to do that," she manages to spit out in between her giggles. I don't find this situation remotely funny.

Three men plod out of the door and I don't bother being polite. Okay, I give a tight smile but start moving the boxes immediately to avoid small talk. Who cares where these semi-good looking lads are from or what they do or how long they've lived here.

They are not coffee and I want nothing else in the world except coffee right now. They follow suit and I can feel their displeasure at meeting me, which they can shove up their ass. The beach blonde haired guy is looking at me as if he wants to say something but I want none of it. Hannah continues to make small talk with this Rodney guy and I know she wants to bang him. She can bang all of Brooklyn for all I care after she helps me put all the boxes away and set up the kitchen. Tomorrow is my first day of work and I want to start the rest of life with a smile on my face. An organized household brings a smile on my face and calms my nerves.

The first thing I do as I enter the apartment is to turn the fridge on and keep the bottle of champagne in it.

Once the guys drop the stuff in front of our apartment, I start to unpack, making my displeasure at them continuing to hangout apparent. I think the blonde guy grasps the insinuation and takes his troop of moderately average looking lads back to wherever they came from. The apartment is nothing extravagant and the view from our window is some other building plastered to ours. Is this what I imagined New York to be since I was a kid?

I don't think so.

I am driven more than ever to make a better life for myself but for now, this is adequate. My anxiety is off the charts today; I just want Hannah to cooperate and make this transition as smooth as possible for the both of us.

I hang the work clothes that mom and I picked out together on the hanger. I still can't believe I am the sex and relationship writer for Substance magazine. Maybe I am over the edge because I feel unprepared for my job but I'll learn, right?

Tomorrow I am wearing a floral blazer with white high waist trousers and nude pumps. I got my nails done yesterday and the coral nail color is so out of my comfort zone but both Hannah and mom voted for it. I want to set up the kitchen, pop a bottle of champagne and get a good night's sleep. My wardrobe is almost done and it's only when I turn around to open the last of my boxes that I notice Han is not here. I call out for her but she isn't even in the apartment. Where did she go? I check my phone and there is no text from her. Maybe she ran down to the Deli.

I set up the kitchen by myself, flabbergasted that she just wouldn't help me. I don't want to pick up her slack but what other choice do I have?

The kitchen is still a mess but I can't rein in my annoyance anymore. I open the bottle and chug some. The golden liquid bubbles on my tongue and because I haven't had anything all day, I can feel the bubbly travel to my stomach. It feels good, the kind of good that if I keep drinking will just get better.

I am tired of always being the reliable, sensible and responsible one. I want to be reckless, however wild drinking champagne in a no furniture apartment by myself can be. It's not like I can call anyone to drink with me. Who else lives in New York that I know?