Happy Hour

by Marlowe Granados

Nicolas is a prince for doing things for us when we have nothing but friendship to offer him.

Nicolas and Gala gave me hugs and said things like, “Have you found yourself yet?” which is their idea of teasing.

You could tell they thought they’d earned a little clout by living in New York for one or two years. Some people acquire brutishness in the laziest way.

Even chosen families have favourites.

It’s funny how quickly a place can become yours.

You should always keep old friends happy because they know more about you than you’d like.

People will leave if they’re convinced they’re too good for something.

Gala spotted two of “our boys,” in the throes of flirting with some girls she described as “timid and barefaced.” She has never been kind to those she deems easy to talk to. Gala believes conversation should be brimming at argument. She says, “Anything less than difficult is a copout.”

The bystander could not see how two girls with such opposing demeanours could be close friends. I told him diversity is good business and develops one’s sense of taste.

Tattoos are funny because if you have enough of them, people get the impression you are tough. I guess they show you can endure pain.

We would’ve gone home, but putting a cap on an evening of adventure can be tough. It takes practice to have restraint, and we are not yet at an age to try it out.

Love is in some ways like fascination. And in my twenty-one years, I have had the pleasure of knowing many interesting people. So many, in fact, and of all types, that Gala says I definitely do not discriminate. She says it’s a shame I didn’t go into anthropology. I don’t think it’s ever too late to try, and I am always learning. The thing about fascination is once you realize there is nothing left to discover, it quickly wears thin.

Seeing someone you used to love is like visiting a house you once lived in. Everything about them is familiar yet strange.

There is only one rule when we get dressed: if it makes you feel good and there’s a pinch of fear that while in public someone may throw a comment your way or think it’s too much, wear it. You never know if someone else may be emboldened to do the same! If you’re going to put something on your body, why not make it look good? People think clothing is frivolous, but it can really instill courage, and that’s a good thing.

he doesn’t know your drink order, he doesn’t know you!”

Enfin is our favourite place in New York so far because they are always playing the right song. It’s important to know whom the music is for, and it was the girls and gays who invented parties. That’s who keeps the best clubs open, along with the people who always have enough money to forget their misfortune.

She has a lot of what people consider “moral fibre,” which simply means a variety of fears instilled in you when you’re young enough to be scared. In New York, people find her Authentic. She’s fallen in love approximately forty times and always with someone who has something to offer. It’s a gift of dumb luck. Men find her alluring because she has one of those open faces—all wide-set eyes and large forehead. Daisy likes to admit, “Men are such fans of innocence.” Crazy things are always happening to her, and she never knows how or why.

“What is your history? Where are you from? Your parents, I mean.” Sage looked at me shyly. Having heard that line before, I turned my shoulder at him and lowered my eyes in a move my mother would have called “coquettish.” I said, “Are you asking why I’m so pretty? If you are, just ask me that.” Did you know it is possible to push back without anyone even noticing?

“And for me, where I really belong is almost never where people find me. That’s something I often think about when I am met with hostility. It is never that I have done anything to warrant it; it’s that I’m simply there.”

It must be nice to need only a degree of sentimentality in order to feel grounded.

He confessed to having many regrets in his life and never being able to forgive himself. I told him a regret is just doing something bad when you know better, and he should be proud that he takes the long way, because that is how you achieve emotional intelligence.

An outfit is what you wear, but a costume is something to really believe in.

she was pleased by the reaction to Gala’s outburst and that academia was always in need of “une bonne fessée,” which just means a good spanking, but with elegance. She added with admiration, “especially from girls.”

“There is no English word for what she sings. Is saudade, she feels saudade, she misses—There is a longing.” I listened for a while, trying to catch any familiar phrase, but I couldn’t. I asked, “What for?” He looked straight on, his face illuminated by a red traffic light, and said, “Something that is lost and never come back, if it makes sense. You take it with you. In her present life she cannot forget the past. It is the presence of an absence. A great, great woman.”

I don’t think I have ever met a woman I wouldn’t consider formidable.

Being a young girl is always a cute trick. It leaves nothing to be desired and it is easy. I feel as though becoming a woman is like a long tradition of going through things and coming out strong, but I am tired and weary!

Intellectuals are funny because they always think you mean more than you say, when sometimes I don’t mean anything at all.

newspaper editor who went to Princeton said he admired my art for storytelling. He said that whenever I started a story, I myself did not seem to know where it would end up. Gala almost choked on an ice cube when he said that. She feels sorry for all of them. She says if only they’d stop reading people like books, they could get somewhere in Life.

I am comfortable saying I don’t do anything because that way people are always surprised by me.

The man who had paid for our cab asked me if I considered myself a memoirist, and I said with a small smile, “Isn’t everyone?” The man said, “There is something dangerous about it. It makes me uneasy. I almost immediately worry how you’d portray me. Not knowing what you would write … I feel like I should behave.” I looked sideways at Gala before I said anything. “That seems a little funny. Shouldn’t you be concerned with that even off the record?” As the men continued to speak, I wrote a note in my phone. It’s inconspicuous; I look as though I am being aloof and texting, but I am noticing and observing all the time.

“If you’re smarter than you look, you sure have the advantage.”

We only get fifty dollars each, but collectively, that’s at least one late-night cab home, a dozen oysters during happy hour, a small bottle of Tanqueray, and maybe one unlimited seven-day MetroCard. It’s always smarter to pool your cash when you’re invested in the same interests. Multiply that by the seven days we have to work, it’s almost easy money.

“Remember, girls, if you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu!”

He would say women expect men to immediately show themselves. He spun a little tale about it. A woman begs a man every day, “Show me your heart! Show me your heart!” And finally after months and years of the woman begging, the man reaches into his chest and holds his heart in his hand. Upon sight of it, the woman reaches for a hammer. I think of this little parable whenever I am wasting time on someone and wondering whether or not I should be.

Whenever a woman comes into a room and people find out she has a significant other, it suddenly takes the sting out of her. She is no longer a threat. I don’t know why, but that’s how it is. Without that reassurance, people look at you like you’re some kind of rogue, capable of doing anything. Dangerous, unpredictable, and suspicious. Though it can be tiring, I think it’s the most powerful position to be in. I often find myself there.

If I were to describe typical New York conversation, it would be two people waiting for their turn to talk.

People in New York are scared to be alone with anyone because having to concentrate on one person can be quite trying.

Gala always says my type is Half of New York.

Trying to kill time with little means is difficult. Days seem much longer. Even if you wake up with a headache at twelve o’clock, there are still about eight hours of daylight for hobbies and then another eight hours for social obligations.

and I am currently making my way through a book Lucian lent me called À rebours. He said, “It’s decadent and goes nowhere; you’ll like it.” I haven’t been able to prove him right. The sun is too bright for my astigmatism, and after a couple of pages I am in danger of falling asleep.

you should never wear what someone gifted you in front of the person who gifted it. This suggests that all kinds of people give you things; wearing the gift would lower its value. I wouldn’t say this strategy encourages insecurities, but it can inspire the giver to give something twice as good the next time.

He said with certainty, “I bet you were a sixteen-year-old runaway with all kinds of ideas about the world.” I laughed and told him how generous he was to think sixteen-year-olds have ideas. He went on to say that my “brave face” could not fool him. I had to wait to correct him because it seemed he had much more to say. He said I had probably dated plenty of older men because I thought I could really be “handled” that way, and that he knew all my “tricks.” He said he wanted to know me beyond what I “served up” to other people.

I concluded his rage came from a history of scorn and bitterness. Some people think that in order to make an impression on a pretty girl, one has to be mean to her. People think girls who have certain magnetism have never known Real Struggle, so they take it upon themselves to give a little bruising and a hard time. They think we should always be learning Life Lessons.

I am highly educated in true sorrow, so I don’t succumb to silly criticism. In no way am I going to be shocked by someone’s ideas about me.

My head felt light and breezy, like I had a giggle growing in the back of my throat.

Tuzy said I should always be single and free because being with anyone would ruin what I “had.” That for me, “Boyfriends are stop signs, husbands are roadblocks.” I laughed and said, “But Tuzy, I can’t drive.”

No matter what Gala eats, she is always thin. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a tapeworm. Her proportions are spread out differently than mine.

New York rain falls in flat sheets. There’s never a dry spot to protect you. The clouds were swollen from being past due. I love the dark, voluptuous shapes the sky makes in the summer. I didn’t have a raincoat or umbrella, so by the time I got to Anabel’s front door, I was soaked. I called her, and instead of buzzing me up, she threw down a set of keys held in a thigh-high stocking.

She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, dressed in a yellow silk two piece that looked like bespoke pyjamas. “Where’d you get a name like Isa Epley? You don’t look like an Epley.” I was getting a little cold and said, “Nowhere. I gave it to myself.” I find it uncharming to start a conversation with a personal question. She gave me a long, exacting look and said, “You know, your aura is quite distracting. You look like you’re used to standing in the threshold.” I rung out my hair on the welcome mat, “How’d you know?” She gave a short laugh. “Take off your shoes.”

Anabel is the kind of person I am at once fascinated by and scared of. At any point in a conversation, she could turn. If she mishears you, she repeats what you’ve said as though it is a question. If you say, “These flowers are beautiful,” she’ll say, “… Beautiful?” It’s an effortless way to cause discouragement. When Anabel spoke to me, each word was chosen and had purpose. Each word sounded sharp, sophisticated, and was meant to explain or investigate. I wasn’t familiar with this kind of poised dialect. Yes, there are shades of Ivy League, which makes each word sound round and permeable, but also a briskness that comes from Having Seen It All. It made me nervous. My language was always overflowing, my conversation frenetic, and I came to my conclusions only incidentally.