Monkey Business

layla hits the books

Monday, December 1, 7:02 a.m.

I push open the heavy oak library doors, slightly astounded that I was the only one waiting for the security guard to unlock them. How are more students not taking advantage of the library’s extended hours? From today, the first Monday after Thanksgiving, until LWBS shuts down for winter holidays on December 19, the library will be open from seven until midnight, seven days a week.

The rolling of my bag’s wheels against the polished floor echoes through the empty atrium. I ride the elevator up to the fourth floor and head for my favorite cubicle beside the window. First I skim through the business section of the paper while I sip my coffee. Then I pull out my pencil case, Economics textbook, course pack and binder from my bag. I’ve already done all my reading for today, so I’ll start on tomorrow’s cases. First thing in the morning is my favorite time to study. It’s quiet and serene. Three-thirty is the most frustrating time. Too many people are here engaging in group meetings. My classmates often fail to remember that they’re in a library and that others are trying to study.

For the next twenty minutes I lose myself in Economics, until a large hand squeezes my shoulder.

“Mini-muffin?” offers the voice attached to the hand. I turn to see Jamie passing me a small brown bag. “The bakery down the street makes the most amazing mini-muffins. Have you tried ’em? You gotta try ’em.”

Don’t mind if I do. I peer into the bag and pull out two blueberry and one chocolate chip. “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”

He peers at his watch. “It’s seven.” Then he gasps. “Oh, shit, is that seven a.m.? I thought I slept through the day. The muffins were my dinner.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Always.” He winks and pulls up a chair. “What are you reading?”

“Econ.”

“Yeah? I hate Economics. I’m going to read OB. Do you happen to have your OB course pack so I can borrow it?”

I find it in my bag and hand it to him. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”

“They keep a few copies on the fifth floor.” He flips through the book with his thumb like it’s a fan, then gestures to my bag. “So, when’s the flight?”

“Ha-ha.”

“No seriously, why is your bag on wheels?”

“I like to have all my books with me for reference. No need to strain my back.” People should be kinder to their backs. They only get one. “How was your weekend?”

“Warm. It was ninety degrees in Miami.”

He doesn’t look like he just got back from Miami. He’s paler than I am. “Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yeah. My parents live in a retirement community now, so we partied hard. Played some shuffleboard, a little bingo. Had the early-bird special for dinner. Wild and crazy times. You?”

“I had a nice time. My sister and I have a place in the Upper East Side, so I went back there. I saw my parents for Thanksgiving dinner and some friends on Saturday night.”

“Bet you have a huge Thanksgiving bash, turkey and all the trimmings.”

Not quite. “My mother doesn’t cook much, and the maid was with her family, so we just went to Nobu. No big deal.” Not really.

“I make a mean-ass turkey,” Jamie brags.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll invite you for Christmas dinner. Have you ever been to a Christmas dinner?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Is there a Hanukkah dinner? What exactly is Hanukkah?”

He leans back, balancing his chair on its hind legs. “It’s the story of how one small jug of oil lasted for eight long days.”

“Do you get presents?”

“No. My parents are misers. You’re supposed to get eight presents, one for every day of the miracle. But my mother used to use it as an excuse to replace my socks. So I’d get eight new pairs.”

“That’s awful.” His balancing is making me a little nervous. He could easily teeter over any second.

“I know. My bubbe always gets me good presents, though. She once bought me one of those toy cars that you can drive around your house. You know what I mean? I bet you had one. Never mind. I bet you got a real car for Christmas.”

He must think I’m so spoiled. “Only twice.” He looks shocked, so I say, “Just kidding. Only once.”

He raises his unibrow. Maybe I should just offer to tweeze that thing. Forget it, how rude would that be?

“What kind of car?” he asks.

This isn’t going to help the spoiled image. “BMW convertible.”

“You have a BMW convertible? Layla, why didn’t you bring it to school?”

“I do have it at school.”

His chair slips backward, but he grabs hold of the desk before he falls and splits open his head. “What? Why have I never seen it?”

“I don’t like to drive.”

“Why do you have a car, then?”

“I don’t know. My parents wanted me to have one.”

“For what? Didn’t you live in Manhattan?”

“Yeah, but I needed to get around. You know. To the Hamptons.” I think I should just shut up.

“Do you think your parents would mind paying for my next semester’s tuition?” He laughs.

Truth is, they probably wouldn’t care. Or notice. “I’ll ask.”

“Wanna get married? I could definitely use a rich wife.”

Married? I can’t even imagine Jamie as a dating contender. He’s too…unambitious. I prefer the serious guy to the clown. “Maybe.”

“I’m no Bradley Green, am I?”

Sigh. Perfect Bradley Green. “It’s not like Bradley even knows I’m alive. I’ll have to wait for him to come to school here, if he gets in, and if he decides to come.”

We laugh and I decide this is an ideal opportunity to discuss his potential relationship with Kimmy. “Anything new with you and Kimmy?” I ask. “Is she back yet?” Over the weekend, I analyzed the Kimmy situation, and I think falling for Jamie would be a far better strategy for her. First of all, Russ is unavailable. Second, Russ doesn’t strike me as such a catch. He’s nerdy, stoned half the day, and Kimmy needs someone with more personality. Like Jamie.

“I stopped by her room at around six, but she seemed preoccupied and didn’t ask me in.” He shakes his head with dismay. “I think it’s time I give up on her.”

“I think you should keep at it. But for now, could you please stop leaning back in that chair? You’re making me nervous.”

He grins, and slams his chair back on all fours.

“That’s better.” I don’t see why she won’t go for Jamie. She hooked up with him once, so she must feel a smidgen of attraction for him. Russ isn’t going to dump Sharon, and at some point Kimmy will have to accept that and move on.

“I wonder if something’s going on with her and Russ,” he says, as if reading my mind.

I look back at my notes and shrug. Am I awful for encouraging him to pursue her, when I know that Russ and Kimmy hooked up after the spin-the-bottle game? At least they haven’t “sealed the deal” yet, so maybe there’s hope.

“Maybe he dumped his girlfriend over Thanksgiving,” he says. “Could be Black Monday for Russ.”

Never heard that one. “Black Monday?”

“The day after Thanksgiving, when everyone comes back to school broken up.”

I doubt it. “We should get to work,” I say, flipping through my notebook. So much work to do before tomorrow! “Why don’t we work for thirty minutes and then take a walk around the floor to stretch?”

“Or maybe you’ll take me out for a spin in your BMW. Some of us only have a Hyundai Excel in the parking lot, you know.”

Matthews spends the morning discussing group interaction patterns, specifically conflict management, negotiations, giving feedback and sharing information.

I’m wondering what kind of information Russ and Kimmy aren’t sharing with their group. They’re both not here. Kimmy really shouldn’t be missing classes when she’s desperately trying to improve her grades. Where is she? She should not be skipping lectures so close to exams.

They both waltz in for Accounting. They walk in separately, slyly, and Russ finds a seat in the back beside Nick and Jamie. Kimmy sits beside me. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair tied back in a high ponytail. She looks like she’s desperately attempting not to look happy. “Good morning,” she sings.

This scenario can’t be good for my set-Jamie-up-with-Kimmy plan. Perhaps I was wrong-maybe Russ did break up with Sharon. “Good morning,” I say. “How was your long weekend?”

“Horrible,” she says. And then smiles. “But all is better now.”

I have a bad feeling about her version of better. “Why? Is it Black Monday? Did he dump her?”

Her face clouds over. “I don’t think so.”

Then what’s she so gleeful about? “What, then?”

She raises her well-plucked eyebrow suggestively. “You know.”

Oh, no. They sealed the deal! “You slept with him?”

She shushes me with her hand.

“But what about his girlfriend?”

She rolls her eyes. “I told you, I don’t know anything more about that.”

How could she sleep with him without knowing? Isn’t it driving her crazy? It’s driving me crazy. “Did you at least ask him?”

“Can we not talk about this here?” she hisses.

Well, excuse me!