{"id":42686,"date":"2012-11-29T15:25:33","date_gmt":"2012-11-29T20:25:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=42686"},"modified":"2012-12-04T11:56:05","modified_gmt":"2012-12-04T16:56:05","slug":"new-york-not-too-long-ago","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/11\/29\/new-york-not-too-long-ago\/","title":{"rendered":"New York, Not Too Long Ago"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>I hadn\u2019t seen Jake since years ago, when we had met at the Guggenheim before going away to college. I remember only one scene from the encounter: spinning around the museum\u2019s spiraling staircase with our arms spread like wings. When we reached the ground floor, we ran out as fast as we could before anyone could have a word with us about our behavior. I don\u2019t recall talking about France, because I don\u2019t think we really did. I remember just twirling with abandon. He had been the only one to understand my kind of crazy. I wouldn\u2019t see him again for five years.<\/p>\n

Our second meeting was in Manhattan at the Odeon restaurant. Jake looked the same as he had in France, though a little taller, a little more handsome, but the same sandy hair and flashing eyes. Except more than ten years of maturity had lent him the calm that had eluded us both back then. He seemed at ease with himself and happy with his work in filmmaking. I couldn\u2019t understand why I hadn\u2019t appreciated his attention as much as I should have when we were young, which meant I\u2019d grown up as well. Instead of fixating romantically on Raees, I should have accepted and cultivated my friendship with Jake\u2014that\u2019s really all it was. Raees was no longer tall and he was an art dealer, having left behind dreams of working in cinema.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019d have asked me then what you\u2019d end up, I thought you\u2019d be a hippie, a free spirit poet,\u201d Jake said as he picked apart a piece of bread. \u201cYou were like a flower child obsessed with butterflies<\/span>\u2014you had this really funny handwriting and drew insects on everything. You had a very beautiful spirit. You were strange, but it didn\u2019t really bother me. I thought it was endearing. You weren\u2019t like the other girls, and they definitely didn\u2019t like you.\u201d He laughed. \u201cSorry. You know what I mean. It seems as though you\u2019re doing well now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s your family?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine. I don\u2019t see them very often. My brother loves the outdoors and spends much of his time working in Vermont or Colorado.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does he do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDisaster relief\u2013something, or so he says. I think he actually works with my father,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember your father did something strange?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe says it was \u2018international business,\u2019 \u2018consulting,\u2019 IBM, maybe. I think Sophie\u2019s dad said the same thing. They both went to work in La D\u00e9fense at this building you had to enter through Star Wars\u2013like capsules.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI bet he was a spy, like Raees\u2019s mom.\u201d Jake had sensed my childhood hunch about my father\u2019s profession without my ever explaining any details to him. \u201cShe once told us she worked for the Dutch National Science Foundation, the DNSF. We were like \u2018What the fuck\u2019s the DNSF?\u2019 Whenever we hung out at Raees\u2019s place it was always a little freaky. There were these Russian icons with gold-lined eyes. I think they were painted in some sort of wax technique. Raees\u2019s mom always warned us about smoking around them. I swear, one started to melt once when he lit a cigarette too close. Freaky. We thought maybe we could sell a couple on the black market,\u201d Jake said, laughing. \u201cWhenever we went out she\u2019d warn us to \u2018Watch out for wild women.\u2019 Everyone\u2019s parents were interesting. Do you remember when I didn\u2019t come to school for a little while?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I never knew what happened. No one seemed to know. You just reappeared one day. I remember the teachers whispering. Considering you were my boyfriend, I thought you\u2019d share if you wanted me to know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mom woke me up one morning and said we were going away and I couldn\u2019t tell anyone. We were going to take the train to find my dad in Nice. He\u2019d gotten a call from the CRS. They were like a special branch of the French government like the FBI.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019d told him, \u2018You need to get out of Paris for a while.\u2019 They\u2019d intercepted a threat to an American executive at an American bank. \u2018We will let you know when you can return. Go as far away as you can, but stay in France and check into the hotel under a different name. We\u2019ll find you and contact you when it\u2019s safe to come back.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, we stayed in a bed-and-breakfast in Nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t that bizarre?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know; it was normal. We were there with other kids too. They had thought my father was the most at risk, as he worked for United Bank of America. I guess if you were a terrorist you\u2019d choose that over Chase? Anyway, after ten days passed, we received a call.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018The threat has been neutralized\u2019 was all they said.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s so crazy. My father was gone most of the time. My only vivid memories from back then are of what happened when he would come home. I forget almost everything that happened after I lost it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLost it?\u201d Jake asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I was severely depressed about a year before we moved back to the States. My mother found this American doctor in Paris that I used to see each week. I didn\u2019t let anyone help me until I decided to get better on my own. My recovery was faked when we returned to New York after my father\u2019s assignment. I tried to be normal, all-American: played lacrosse, dated football players, wore jeans. No one bought it, least of all myself. Every time I try too hard it falls flat. I had to finally accept I was different and figure how to get through the world alone this way. There was no cure. I never actually got better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo be honest, I had no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s true. Like I said before, you were this beautiful spirit. What may be off is your point of view. Most of us were alone a lot. I got a lot of teenage stuff out of my system over there. We had so much freedom. Raees and I would just go out and get wasted. We drank and smoked, and then when I moved back, there wasn\u2019t any desire for any of that partying anymore. By the time I got to prep school, it was like I had done all that stuff. We\u2019d all grown up alone and so fast.\u201d<\/p>\n

Excerpted from<\/em> An Extraordinary Theory of Objects<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

[tweetbutton]<\/p>\n

[facebook_ilike]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I hadn\u2019t seen Jake since years ago, when we had met at the Guggenheim before going away to college. I remember only one scene from the encounter: spinning around the museum\u2019s spiraling staircase with our arms spread like wings. When we reached the ground floor, we ran out as fast as we could before anyone […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":45,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1188],"tags":[9341,2825,635,124,270],"class_list":["post-42686","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-from-the-archive","tag-an-extraordinary-theory-of-objects","tag-excerpt","tag-memoir","tag-new-york","tag-paris"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nNew York, Not Too Long Ago by Stephanie LaCava<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"November 29, 2012 \u2013 I hadn\u2019t seen Jake since years ago, when we had met at the Guggenheim before going away to college. 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