The wind is rushing off the river and around the corners of the building. It's making this moaning sound, like the ghost of a freight train or a tornado in the distance.
It's doing nothing to ease my mind.
I'm sitting in Gene's apartment at the table, typing and rubbing the ball of my foot against the carpet. I feel restless but not uncomfortable.
Gene's apartment needs more bookshelves, though I always say that. He could do with some curtains as well. And mirrors. This place is devoid of mirrors, and it freaks me out a little.
I think Gene would let me decorate if I moved in with him, as he keeps asking. It's probably something I shouldn't even consider. There's nothing here for me beyond the physical comfort of him and the slim prospect of a better-paying job. I can't afford to go to school here. Rather, I doubt that my grandfather would be willing to pay New York City tuition.
Better that I go to Kansas.
That means that I have to finish my community college work or gracefully withdraw. Then I'd have to leave in earnest, and stay gone. A driver's license and oddly filed taxes won't make me a resident.
I'm beginning to wonder if there's a point to all of it, the move the clumsily executed fraud. I won't be able to go to school for another year and a half. My transfer application still has my New Jersey address on it, so even if they accepted me, I've no idea if I would be appropriately enrolled.
Am I making excuses and convolutions because I don't want to leave Gene?
I can't know.
I know that Kansas is my best academic option. I know that I want the cheap tuition and the reputation and the specialized environment. But I want the uncomfortable bed and the smile, the love, just as much. He wants me to have both too. And for some reason it seems I have to choose.
I feel so lost.