Monkey Business

jamie talks the talk

Friday, March 19, 1:15 a.m.

Ring, ring.

Phones ringing in the middle of the night make me nervous. I pause Casablanca and pick up.

Me: Hello?

Voice on phone: Hi, ya! It’s Layla.

Me: Everything okay?

Layla: Of course.

Me: (Exhaling in relief and then singing her name song.)

Layla: You’re up!

Me: So are you, apparently.

Layla: I can’t sleep.

Me: Where’s Bradley the frog?

Layla: (Loud sigh.) That didn’t work out.

Me: (Heart soaring into the sky like a kite on speed.) What happened?

Layla: He wasn’t as perfect as I thought.

Me: After all that?

Layla: It happens. How are you? How’s the job search going?

Me: Job search? Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?

Layla: Does that mean you haven’t found anything?

Me: Actually, I did find something. Your contact gave me a bunch of names. I’ve decided I definitely want to get a job in movies. And I’ve spoken to a few production companies. They all seem interested, but none of them want to pay me. I’d be a kind of intern, aka slave laborer.

Layla: With half an MBA you shouldn’t be working for free.

Me: It’s not always about the money.

Layla: You’re right. You are so right. I love that you’re following your passion.

Me: (She’s my passion. Maybe I should start following her.) You do?

Layla: I have a confession to make. I’m jealous that you’re not going for the money, that you’re going to do something you love.

Me: (What I’d love to do is you.) You love what you do.

Layla: I love working. But I wish I worked somewhere where I could make a difference, instead of pushing papers and million-dollar deals that don’t mean anything.

Me: What would be your dream job?

Layla: Remember Danielle Grand? The executive director of the Girls Group in Danbury? I would like to do what she does.

Me: So why can’t you do that?

Layla: Because I already have a job. And you don’t get to wear Chanel suits at a nonprofit. And-this is going to sound horrible-working at a nonprofit just feels like such women’s work.

Me: Excuse me?

Layla: It’s such a stereotype. Like teaching. My sister is in Teacher’s College. And I’m disappointed in her. I thought she could do better.

Me: (I hate that she said, “I thought she could do better.” For sure she’d never go out with me.) Teaching shapes the minds of our youth. Isn’t that one of the most important jobs there is?

Layla: I know, I know. Rationally, I know. But I would still worry about people putting down what I did, like it was some kind of woman’s hobby. (She sighs loudly.) Isn’t that dumb?

Me: Yes. Do you want to be a banker?

Layla: My mother is a banker. My father is a banker.

Me: That’s the worst answer I ever heard.

Layla: (Laughs.) I love working. I’m just not crazy about the projects I work on. (She sighs again.) Let’s talk about something else. So is it quiet there? Empty? Is it weird?”

Me: It is weird. Like that scene in Vanilla Sky when Tom Cruise is walking through an empty Times Square.

Layla: I loved that movie. So what did you do all week?

Me: I instant-messengered my mom. Never show a lonely mother how to use the Internet. She’ll use it against you.

Layla: My mother wouldn’t have time to IM me. She works twenty-five-hour days. But if we didn’t communicate by e-mail, I would never hear from her.

Me: What about your dad?

Layla: Same.

Me: You must have seen them this week while you were in New York.

Layla: Nope.

Me: That’s so sad.

Layla: Isn’t it?

Me: Were you a lonely kid?

Layla: I had my sister. And my friends. And my work. Yeah. I guess I was. (She laughs again.)

Me: Maybe you want to be a banker because you think it’ll bring you closer to your parents.

Layla: (Pause.) That’s very astute of you, Jamie. Maybe you should look for a shrink job instead.

We stay on the phone until I look out the window over my bed and the light has started to eat its way over the empty campus, turning the sky vanilla.