Katwalk (3 page)

“Sure,
other people
go traveling by themselves. I can’t even go to the movies by myself. You know that.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a little bit. You’re almost thirty years old. Time to spread those wings.”

Katrina stirred the ice in her drink with the straw. “I’ve never gone anywhere alone for even a weekend. There’s no way I could spend two months in New York City
by myself.”

“Yes, you could.”

“I don’t know anyone there.”

“Yo
u’d
meet people.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not overcome with panic every time you walk into a roomful of strangers.”

“You’re not as shy as you think you are.”

Katrina felt herself stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that for whatever reason you
tell
yourself that you’re shy, and then, unfortunately, you actually listen to yourself. You don’t
have
to listen to that, you know.”

“Again, easy for you to say. You’re not me. And besides, going across the country by myself isn’t quite what I had in mind when I signed up for this little adventure.”

Deb picked up her drink. “I know going without me is light-years out of your comfort zone, but I’m just saying that you should think about it. You’ve already taken such a huge step by quitting your job. Wouldn’t it be a shame to get another one right away instead of using this time off to do
. . .
something
?”

Katrina shrugged. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

She smiled weakly. “Okay, definitely.”

“There you go. And it’s not like you wanted to stay at your job anyway, right? I mean, would you want to go back there tomorrow if you could? Even if they offered you a promotion?”

Katrina answered without hesitation. “No.”

“See? So this is for the best, no matter what happens next.”

“I know, I know. All of this is just
. . .
scary.”

“Life is scary. But that’s what makes it so exciting, right? And for the record, I’m still paying for my half of the apartment, so if you decide to go, don’t worry about that. I may be ditching you, but I’m not screwing you.”

Katrina laughed. “You always have a way of making yourself come out of every situation smelling like a rose, did you know that?”

Deb bowed her head in thanks. “What can I say? It’s from all those country-club lunches my grandparents used to drag me to. The ability to schmooze comes in handy in a pinch. So you’ll think about it? And if you do it, I’ll try to come visit you for a weekend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you don’t hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Promise?”

Katrina shook her head, then picked up a menu and whapped Deb lightly on the back of the head with it. “I promise. I could never hate you. But you’re definitely buying me dinner tonight.”

Chapter Two

After dinner, Katrina hugged Deb good-bye, then took her time walking home. Still trying to come to terms with the wrench that had been thrown into a meticulously constructed plan, she trudged up the stairs to the second floor.

Quit job, check.

Find place to live in New York, check.

Sublet apartment here, check.

Make airline reservations, check.

Figure out what to do now
. . .
ugh.

Once inside her apartment, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, sat down cross-legged on the couch, and tried to picture herself in New York City.

Living in New York City.

Alone.

So alone.

Deb could never understand why Katrina had such trouble making new friends, especially because she worked at an advertising agency full of creative, sociable people.
Just chat them up
, sh
e’d
always say.
They’re just people
. As if it were that easy. It had been ages since Katrina had felt comfortable making new friends. Thank God for Deb, who had been her best buddy since first grade.

Katrina hadn’t always felt so awkward. Up through eighth grade, sh
e’d
been as outgoing as the next kid, with many friends in addition to Deb. But everything had changed when it came time to start high school. Her parents, consumed with preparing her for the future, had decided to enroll her in a private all-girls’ school, and suddenly she had to start all over again. The student body was comprised mainly of outrageously wealthy girls who had been there since sixth grade, so from day one Katrina had felt like the only one lacking a tight-knit circle of friends. Without bubbly Deb by her side for the first time in her life, she was insecure. She wanted to make new friends, but she had never really learned how. She was always friendly when spoken to, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that people thought of her as the shy girl who didn’t quite fit in. It didn’t help that her new classmates inhabited a world unlike anything sh
e’d
ever known.

Trust funds.

Luxury cars from Daddy on their sixteenth birthday.

Ski trips to Sun Valley or Jackson Hole, if not the French Alps.

Long weekends in Palm Springs.

Shopping trips along Rodeo Drive.

And with the bank accounts came a sense of entitlement and confidence that permeated the entire campus.

Deb could have held her own with these girls, but not Katrina.

Daunted by the cliques and inside jokes about vacation resorts sh
e’d
never visited and designer brands she couldn’t afford, she didn’t have the courage to sit down with anyone at lunchtime. Conspicuously alone one too many times, she began passing the hour in the library.

By herself.

Then one day she just stopped caring—or trying.

Instead, she put her head in her books and studied, spending most of her free time focusing on her homework. Almost before she knew it, freshman year turned into sophomore year, and so on and so on. When she graduated, she did so with a straight-A average but no truly meaningful friendships.

Her shyness abated somewhat in college, when she realized that no one knew—much less cared—what she had been like in high school. But it never disappeared entirely, because
she
knew.

She looked around her immaculate, minimalist living room. Would the subletter take good care of it? She hoped so. Deb had said he was neat, but she and Deb didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the definition of
neat
.

She picked a tiny piece of fuzz off the couch, then closed her eyes.

Am I really too afraid to go to New York on my own?

Too scared to try something new?

Is this the person I want to be?

She thought of what Deb had said earlier:
You’re not as shy as you think you are.

For years Katrina had been telling herself she was misunderstood because of her shyness, but she wasn’t sure about that anymore. While it was true that no one had made much of an effort to approach her back in school, how approachable had she made
herself
by hiding out in the library? Or, later, by declining social invitations at work? How much of her loneliness and isolation had she created, however inadvertently, over the years?

Maybe it was time to stop making excuses.

She glanced at her laptop on the kitchen table.

If she stayed in Mountain View, sh
e’d
soon be sitting in front of that computer screen, probably down the road in her childhood bedroom at her parents’ house, where sh
e’d
be forced to live until her subletter’s term was up. Sh
e’d
be meticulously updating her résumé and then embarking on a job search that—when completed—would bring her right back where sh
e’d
started.

She glanced at the laptop again.

If I don’t do this, will I regret it for the rest of my life?

Before going to bed, Katrina headed to the bathroom to perform her nightly routine.

Remove eye makeup with cotton ball.

Wash face with gentle foaming cleanser.

Apply night cream.

Floss and brush teeth.

She carefully returned her toothbrush to the cup on the sink, looked at herself in the mirror, then turned and walked into the living room to get her phone. If she didn’t call Deb tonight, she knew sh
e’d
lose her nerve. She had to say it out loud to make herself accountable, to make her decision real.

Deb answered on the first ring. “Please tell me you’re still going.”

Katrina closed her eyes as she replied. “I’m still going.”

Deb’s surprise came leaping through the phone. “You are?”

“Yes. I just need to get on the plane before I change my mind. Will you go shopping with me tomorrow to help me pick out some new clothes? Maybe a good coat? I need to be prepared for the New York weather.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you right before I leave work. And I’m proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

“You really think I can do this?”

“I know you can. And trust me, you’re going to have the most memorable time of your life.”

Katrina sighed. “I hope you’re right. But I’ve got to move fast before I change my mind.”

The following Monday evening, a few minutes after six o’clock, Katrina turned her apartment keys over to the subletter. Then she drove her silver Audi to nearby Los Altos Hills. She was spending her last night in town at her parents’ house.

The sky was clear and bright as she merged northbound onto Highway 280. She looked at the dashboard to check the time. Her parents were expecting her for dinner, and her mother got upset if she was even five minutes late. Given their less than enthusiastic reaction to her recent news, she didn’t want to upset them further by not showing up on time. She was already dreading the inevitable conversation about her decision to quit her job, and the one to spend eight weeks—alone—in New York even more so.

The sun was just beginning to set as she took the Page Mill exit and made her way up the winding roads to her parents’ secluded ranch-style house. She pulled into the spotless garage, careful to park equidistant from her dad’s shiny black Range Rover and her mom’s pristine silver Lexus sedan, stopping precisely when the tennis ball attached to an overhead string gently touched her windshield to indicate sh
e’d
pulled in far enough—but not too far. When she stepped out of her car, she glanced at the gleaming tools hanging on the opposite wall, then removed her suitcase from the trunk and rolled it across the cement floor.

At the entrance, she kicked off her shoes and lifted the bag to avoid tracking anything onto the white carpet, then carried it into one of the guest bedrooms. She took out a fold-out luggage stand from the closet and set the bag down on it, then stopped in the bathroom to wash her hands and check her hair. After one last look in the mirror, she took a deep breath and walked through the large house to the kitchen. As she approached, she could hear her parents’ voices and the classical music they always had playing.

Her dad was stirring something in a tall pot, her mom chopping celery on a sleek wooden cutting board. They were both standing in front of the island that divided the kitchen from the expansive entertainment room behind them.

Her dad smiled. “Well, hello there, sunshine. Always nice to hear the sound of your footsteps in the house.”

Katrina pointed to her stocking feet. “You know I’m not wearing shoes, Dad.” No one ever did, except for guests.

“Did you shut the garage door?” her mom asked.

Katrina walked over to peer into the pot. “Park the car, check. Shut the door, check. Something smells really good. What are you making?”

“Roast beef, homemade vegetable soup, and a fresh tomato-and-mozzarella salad. You better have brought an appetite, young lady,” her dad said.

“Henry, please don’t encourage her to overeat,” her mom said. “Once she turns thirty, it isn’t going to be so easy for her to maintain her figure without exercising.”

Katrina plopped down on one of the bar stools bordering the island. “Bring an appetite, check. Don’t overeat after I turn thirty, check. It’s been a while since I had a real home-cooked meal. Are Eric and Emily coming over?” Her older brother and his wife lived up in San Francisco.

Her dad tossed a cup of chopped celery into the soup pot. “He canceled, unfortunately. Said he had to work late.”

“Again? He’s always working late.” Eric was an investment banker at a big firm in the city.

“At least someone is,” her mom said.

Katrina sighed. “Mom, it’s been less than a week since I quit. Can you please not start?”

Her mother set down her knife and put her hands on her hips. “Your father and I just think it would have been smarter to line something up before traipsing off to New York like this. It’s not like you to be so
. . .
reckless
.”

Katrina felt her whole body stiffen. “You think I’m being reckless?” She looked at her dad for support.

He gave her a sympathetic frown. “It
is
a bit impetuous.”

Katrina balled her hands into fists in her lap. She had worked at the same job for
eight years,
and her parents thought she was rash
?

She took another deep breath, then calmly stood up and walked across the kitchen toward the cabinets. “What time do you think we should leave for the airport?” She pulled down a large glass.

“Remember, you promised us yo
u’d
look for a job from there,” her mother said. “You can’t go back on that promise.”

Katrina opened the refrigerator to retrieve a pitcher of water. “I won’t.” Even though looking for a job was just about the last thing she felt like doing, sh
e’d
never broken a promise to her parents and didn’t intend to now.

Her mother picked up the knife and started chopping again. “It’s important to keep up with your networks, however limited they may be. If you let them idle for too long, you may be in trouble when you get back, especially in this economy.”

“I know, I know,” Katrina said. “You told me that yesterday, remember?”

“Well, it’s worth repeating. You know networking isn’t your strong suit.”

“Yep, got it.” Her back to both of them, Katrina set the pitcher on the counter and closed her eyes
. Please stop.

She heard her dad’s voice behind her. “Not that you’re not a top-notch accountant, sunshine. We know how smart and capable you are with numbers.”

“Got it,” she said without turning around.

He cleared his throat. “We just know you have a little trouble
. . .
on the social side of things
. . .
you know, putting yourself out there.”

“Uh-huh.” She squeezed the handle of the pitcher.

“Now, if it were your
brother
going, we wouldn’t be so concerned. He’s so charismatic h
e’d
be able to land a job from anywhere,” her mom said.