Monkey Business

kimmy rationalizes her future

Friday, March 26, 4:30 p.m.

I know it’s Layla in the stall beside me, but I don’t say anything. I know she’s disappointed in me, but I can’t turn him in. I just can’t.

She’s been avoiding me since our fight. I think she’s being harsh. She won’t talk to Russ, either, just keeps glaring at him. Not that he’s noticed. They didn’t talk much before, anyway. Things with Russ have been good despite all this. Honestly, I think we’re closer than ever. When we go to the disciplinary committee on the twelfth, we’ll tell them that we talked about the project, that we apologize, that we didn’t realize what we were doing was wrong. And I’ve done some research. Actually, Jamie did some research for me, and he said that it’s not like we’re the first ones to ever get caught plagiarizing, and that out of the last five cases, three got off and the other two failed the course. No one got expelled. So big deal, I’ll fail a course. I can take it again. We can both take it again this summer. So we won’t go to New York. We’ll stay here. Big deal. We’ll stay here together and take summer credits. And then we’ll be together next year and maybe we’ll move into couple housing instead of living at the Zoo. And then next year we’ll move to New York and get great jobs. Get engaged. Get married.

Married. That’s what I wanted anyway, isn’t it? Mrs. in front of my name.

And what if they don’t buy it? Maybe I’ll tell them it was me who cheated. Because, let’s be honest, I was never here to learn how to climb the corporate ladder. And even if O’Donnel were to hire me later full-time, what happens then? I work for two years until I get pregnant, and then what? Let some stranger raise my kids?

I shudder at the thought of day care, remember the ear-picking-up woman, remember how tired and cranky my mother was when she arrived to take me home. Is that the type of woman I want to be? No. So it doesn’t matter if I don’t get my MBA. I want Russ to be happy.

I flush the toilet. Layla flushes beside me. We both hit the sinks at the same time. The silence feels heavy.

“You’re making a mistake,” she says.

“Don’t bother,” I answer.

“It’s my job to bother. I’m concerned. The guy you’re giving up your future for is the guy who cheated on his girlfriend for six months. He’s not long-term potential.”

How dare she? “It’s none of your business.”

“You shouldn’t trust him.” She turns off the tap and leaves me staring at myself in the mirror.