Chapter_7

The night before their closing, they threw themselves a going-away party at a popular brick-oven pizza restaurant in Clinton Hill. Jordan had taken the day off work. He and Rosie had spent all morning and afternoon packing their stuff into rented plastic crates. The amount of dust that had accumulated over only nine months shocked Rosie, and Jordan sneezed repeatedly as they worked. Rosie was disturbed by the number of things they owned, including miscellaneous cords and niche workout equipment that even Jordan could not identify. “I think you’re supposed to balance on that,” he said, squinting with watery, bloodshot eyes at a wooden board Rosie held up. “Or no, you lay on it? It’s an ab thing. We can get rid of it if you want.” Rosie did want to get rid of it, along with most of their things.

She checked Instagram every few minutes to see who had responded to her post announcing the party.

Boo!a former classmate wrote. You can’t leave!

I’ll miss you!Rosie lied. They hardly ever saw each other anyway. She added a crying emoji. Come tonight!!

All day the sky had been stalked by storm clouds, and the downpour began just as the party was supposed to start. But the rain appeared to have no impact on the turnout. Soon the windows were steamed from body heat. Jordan’s colleagues had arrived in a large pack, their shirts damp. They gave Jordan meaningful, doleful looks, which Rosie interpreted to mean they would miss him, and she felt guilty for tearing him away.

She found herself in a group conversation with some of Jordan’s former classmates and colleagues about the national debt ceiling, which Rosie had been ignorant of for thirty years. She listened with a practiced look of concern and interest—a look she had perfected as a canvasser. She knew that in her new life, she would never have to make this face. She nodded with her eyebrows raised as one woman spoke over the din about how the federal government struggled to pay its bills. She fantasized about leaving this conversation abruptly. Someone said they could relate to the government not being able to pay its own bills, which Rosie doubted. Then the conversation moved on to credit cards that granted access to airport lounges. Rosie pictured herself driving off a cliff. She looked forward to never speaking to these people about credit cards ever again.

“Wow,” someone said, startling her.

“Alice. Thank god.”

“I feel like I’m underdressed for a crypto launch,” Alice said. “Who are these people?”

“I know,” Rosie said. She followed Alice’s gaze to a short man in sunglasses eating two stacked slices of pizza.

“You look like you need a drink,” Damien said, joining them. He wore all black and towered over them. He handed Rosie a cocktail menu and slid an arm around Alice.

“Jesus,” Rosie said, looking it over. “Eighteen dollars for a gin and tonic.”

“Didn’t you pick this place?” Alice said moodily. “Anyway, don’t act like it’s going to put you out.”

“I’ll get the drinks,” Damien said quickly. “Maybe I can get on some sort of payment plan.”

“Look,” Rosie said to Alice, “I know this all happened kind of fast. I’m sorry if I stole your dream. I should have talked to you first before moving forward with it. I know you found the place.”

“You think that’s why I’m mad?”

“Well, yeah. Right?”

“Rosie, there’s no way I was going to make an offer, even if I could afford it, which you know I can’t.”

“But you were going on and on about how much you hate it here and how much you loved the house.”

“Nobody hates New York like New Yorkers! And of course I was in love with the house. But it’s a fantasy. It’s only appealing because it’s not real life. Maybe you should have just taken a vacation.”

“I’m not trying to take a vacation,” Rosie said. “I’m trying to start my life.”

“Your life started thirty years ago. You were born, you went to school, you went to college, you met me.” She pointed at her own face. Rosie was getting hot. She felt the urge to agree with Alice, just to restore the peace.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, ‘I’ll really miss you, Alice.’?”

“You’re upset that I’m leaving.”

“Say it,” Alice said.

“Come with us!” Rosie pleaded. “You’re telling me you don’t feel beaten down by New York? Like, at all?”

Alice shook her head. “No,” she said. “I love my life. I get that it’s not for everyone, but when I think of where I want to be in forty years? This is it. I love my weird apartment. I love that every evening at five I can hear my neighbor play the Flintstones theme song on his saxophone. I love the really bad Blink-182 cover band that plays in Union Square every Tuesday morning. I love that my landlord is also my shroom dealer. This is where I’m supposed to be.” She looked around the crowded bar. “I mean, not here. This bar is a nightmare.”

“Jordan picked it.”

“I’m really going to miss you.” Alice pulled Rosie into a hug. “Please promise me you won’t get eaten by a bear. I’ll have no one to complain to about the Egg.”

“I promise,” Rosie said.

Damien returned with two milky-looking cocktails. “Thank god,” he said, handing them each a drink. “She’s been inconsolable ever since you guys signed that contract.”

“I’m mourning,” Alice said.

“So, what, these are all of Jordan’s colleagues?” Damien said, looking around.

Rosie followed his gaze. Aside from Alice and Damien, everyone at the party was a friend of Jordan’s. She’d been trying to ignore the imbalance. None of Rosie’s acquaintances had shown up, and she felt a prick of shame for having advertised the party in the first place. She dreaded her birthday for this reason. Jordan always encouraged her to throw a party, but making a guest list would force her to scrutinize both the quantity and quality of her friendships, and she usually came to sad conclusions. So she’d spent her recent birthday with Jordan, because it felt better than running the risk of confirming her fears—that nobody would show up; that the few attendees would make an awkward group; or, worst of all, that her guests would look around the room and see exactly what she saw.

She chewed on her straw. Jordan stood at the corner of the bar with Noguchi and a few other Family Friend colleagues whom Rosie recognized from the wedding. She watched him set down his pint and accept a wrapped gift from the group of men. He unfurled a pin-striped baseball jersey with the Family Friend logo embroidered over the heart. On the back, the name prawn was sewn in big, blocky letters. His colleagues were encouraging him to put it on, and he did, unbuttoning his shirt with a smile and glancing around. He caught Rosie’s eye and waved goofily.

Alice looked at her phone. “Jesus. Instagram is trying to get me to buy Bart Simpson underwear. I swear my phone is listening to me. I was just telling Damien earlier today that Bart Simpson was my first crush.”

“Mine was Nala the lion,” Damien said.

One of Jordan’s colleagues interjected as he passed them on his way to the bathroom. “Actually, our phones aren’t listening to us without our permission,” he said. “I know it can feel that way, but it’s just confirmation bias! It would be too major a privacy violation.” He squeezed past them, spilling his drink down the sides of his frosted glass.

“Bullshit,” said Alice. “What’s something I never search for?”

“Adult diapers,” Damien offered.

Alice held the phone close to her mouth. “Adult diapers. Adult diapers. Adult diapers.” She turned to Rosie. “Just watch.”

Rosie’s drink was down to the ice, and another ended up in her hand as soon as she finished it. Across the room, Jordan slipped on his jersey and beckoned Rosie over.

“My beautiful wife,” he said, kissing her clumsily on the cheek. “Can you believe this jersey?”

“I saw!” Rosie said. “I love it. You look like Derek Jeter.” This was the only baseball player she knew. Jordan smiled and pulled her close to him—one of his hands on her waist, the other holding his sweating beer. His colleagues had gathered around a pool table at the other end of the bar, except for Noguchi, who stood next to Jordan, bobbing his head to a beat Rosie could barely hear. It was one in the morning. In a matter of hours, she and Jordan would be driving to their closing. She doubted whether they would sober up in time.

“I was just telling Jordan,” Noguchi said, “that he’s more of a friend than a colleague at this point.” He had a booming voice that carried through the din of the bar. His dark hair was cut into a ’90s-esque sweep. Based on his open posture, inclusive laugh, and eagerness to hug people, Rosie got the sense he’d had a happy childhood and no secrets.

“That’s sweet,” she said.

“I mean, officiating the wedding really brought us to this new level.” He held his hand to chest height to demonstrate. He slurred his words slightly. “That’s why I feel like I can share this with you guys. I feel like there’s a lot of trust here.”

Rosie and Jordan glanced at each other. “OK,” Jordan said. “Trust about what? You can tell us anything.”

“You know, maybe I shouldn’t say.”

“No!” Jordan and Rosie insisted.

“You can tell us anything,” Jordan repeated. “Whatever it is, we love and accept you.”

Did Jordan think Noguchi was coming out to them? Was he coming out to them? Rosie considered Noguchi, allowing her gaze to wander from his pretty lips to his two delicate gold-chain necklaces. It had never occurred to her that he might be gay, but of course, you never knew.

“OK, cool,” Noguchi said. “Because... we’re bros, right? Till the end?”

“Absolutely,” Jordan said. “No matter what. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. From us.”

“I can leave if you want to talk to Jordan privately,” Rosie said. She hoped Noguchi wouldn’t agree.

“No, no,” Noguchi said. “No, you stay. You’re family, too. Prawns for life.” He held out his fist for Jordan and Rosie to bump.

“So what is it?” Jordan said.

“Well, you missed a pretty interesting meeting today.” Noguchi gave him a meaningful look. “OK, I’m going to cut to the chase.”

“I wish you would,” Jordan said.

“They’re cutting Legal.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Like, the whole Trust and Safety team. We’re all getting—” Noguchi used his hand as a knife across his throat.

Jordan shook his head in confusion.

“They’re really not happy with all the data privacy lawsuits after the D-word incident. It’s like Whac-A-Mole, with all the settlements.”

Jordan scoffed. “The whole premise of the company is a privacy nightmare. What were they expecting?”

“They don’t like how we keep losing and settling. So they’re getting rid of us and replacing us with a bunch of other lawyers who won’t be able to do any better.”

Rosie felt overheated. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Jordan, who was gripping his beer tightly.

“Why are you so relaxed?” Jordan said.

“Because,” Noguchi said, “panic has never gotten anyone anywhere.” He took a long swig from his beer. Rosie watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Anyway, that’s why none of the Trust and Safety crew is here tonight. Not really in the partying mood. And that’s why people have been giving you sad looks all night. They’re planning to tell you in person tomorrow, but I thought you should know sooner rather than later, since...”

“Since we’re buying a house tomorrow?” Jordan said.

“Will you relax?” Noguchi leaned in. “I have a plan for us. A way cooler app that I’ve been working on as a little side hustle in case something like this happened. It’s my friend’s uncle’s friend’s app. He’s been working on it for years and it doesn’t have a name yet, but it’s like Capsule meets Uber—”

“Effective when?”

“Hm?” Noguchi said.

“We’re fired effective when?”

“Oh, immediately,” Noguchi said. “Don’t kill the messenger, please. It’s just... I wanted to tell you before, you know, you heard from your bank. Your lender called HR this morning to confirm your employment status.”

Rosie closed her eyes.

“Your vibe is way, way intense right now,” Noguchi said. “Can’t you back out of the closing?” He stared at the bottle in Jordan’s hand. “I thought you said I could tell you anything.”

“Not this!” Jordan yelled. “I thought you were going to tell me you’re gay! What the hell!”

Noguchi held up his hands. “I told you, I have a plan! This app I’ve been working on is in desperate need of more lawyers. I already put in a good word for you.”

“Dude, you’ve tried to launch, like, twenty apps since I’ve known you! None of them ever work out!”

“You can’t hit the ball if you don’t swing!” Noguchi said.

Jordan had gone pale. He set down his beer. “Party’s over,” he said loudly. “Everyone go home, please. We’re done here. Thank you! Goodbye!”

Rosie covered her eyes with one hand. “I’ll call a car,” she said.