throwing　my　things　in　my　backpack。　“Is　it　still　OK　if　I　borrow　your
  car？　The　sooner　I　get　Home；　the　sooner　I　can　get　back。　Not　that　it
  really　matters；　because　I’mmoving　to　New　York　。　It’s　official！”
  Since　Alex　went　home　to　Westchester　twice　a　week　to　babysit　his
  little　brother　when　his　mom　had　to　work　late；　his　mom　had　given　him
  her　old　car　to　keep　in　the　city。　But　he　wouldn’t　be　needing　it　until
  Tuesday；　and　I’d　be　back　before　then。　I　had　been　planning　to　go　Home
  that　weekend　anyway；　and　now　I’d　have　some　good　news　to　bring　with
  me。
  “Sure。　No　problem。　It’s　in　a　spot　about　a　half…block　down　on　Grand
  Street。　The　keys　are　on　the　kitchen　table。　Call　me　when　you　get
  there；　OK？”
  “Will　do。　Sure　you　don’t　want　to　e？　There’ll　be　great　food—you
  know　my　mom　orders　in　only　the　best。”
  “Sounds　tempting。　You　know　I　would；　but　I　organized　some　of　the
  younger　teachers　to　get　together　tomorrow　night　for　happy　hour。
  Thought　it　might　help　us　all　work　as　a　team。　I　really　can’t　miss
  it。”
  “Goddamn　do…gooder。　Always　doing　good；　spreading　good　cheer　wherever
  you　go。　I’d　hate　you　if　I　didn’t　love　you　so　much。”　I　leaned　over
  and　kissed　him　good…bye。
  I　found　his　little　green　Jetta　on　the　first　try　and　only　spent
  twenty　minutes　trying　to　find　the　parkway　that　would　take　me　to　95
  North；　which　was　wide　open。　It　was　a　freezing　day　for　November；　the
  temperature　was　in　the　midthirties；　and　there　were　slick　frozen
  patches　on　the　back　roads。　But　the　sun　was　out；　the　kind　of　winter
  glare　that　causes　unaccustomed　eyes　to　tear　and　squint；　and　the　air
  felt　clean　and　cold　in　my　lungs。　I　rode　the　entire　way　with　the
  window　rolled　down；　listening　to　the　“Almost　Famous”　soundtrack　on
  repeat。　I　worked　my　damp　hair　into　a　ponytail　with　one　hand　to　keep
  it　from　flying　in　my　eyes；　and　blew　on　my　hands　to　keep　them　warm；
  or　at　least　warm　enough　to　grip　the　steering　wheel。　Only　six　months
  out　of　college；　and　my　life　was　on　the　verge　of　bursting　forward。
  Miranda　Priestly；　a　stranger　until　yesterday　but　a　powerful　woman
  indeed；　had　handpicked　me　to　join　her　magazine。　Now　I　had　a　concrete
  reason　to　leave　Connecticut　and　move—all　on　my　own；　as　a　real　adult
  would—to　Manhattan　and　make　it　my　Home。　As　I　pulled　into　the
  driveway　of　my　childhood　house；　sheer　exhilaration　took　over。　My
  cheeks　looked　red　and　windburned　in　the　rearview　mirror；　and　my　hair
  was　flying　wildly　about。　There　was　no　makeup　on　my　face；　and　my
  jeans　were　dirty　around　the　bottom　from　trudging　through　the　city
  slush。　But　at　that　moment；　I　felt　beautiful。　Natural　and　cold　and
  clean　and　crisp；　I　threw　open　the　front　door　and　called　out　for　my
  mother。　It　was　the　last　time　in　my　life　I　remember　feeling　so　light。
  “A　week？　Honey；　I　just　don’t　see　how　you’re　going　to　start　work　in　a
  week；”　my　mother　said；　stirring　her　tea　with　a　spoon。　We　were
  sitting　at　the　kitchen　table　in　our　usual　spots；　my　mother　drinking
  her　usual　decaf　tea　with　Sweet’N　Low；　me　with　my　usual　mug　of
  English　Breakfast　and　sugar。　Even　though　I　hadn’t　lived　at　Home　in
  four　years；　all　it　took　was　an　oversize　mug　of　microwaved　tea　and　a
  couple　Reese’s　peanut　butter　cups　to　make　me　feel　like　I’d　never
  left。
  “Well；　I　don’t　have　a　choice；　and；　honestly；　I’m　lucky　to　have　that。
  You　should’ve　heard　how　hard…core　this　woman　was　on　the　phone；”　I
  said。　She　looked　at　me；　expressionless。　“But；　whatever；　I　can’t
  worry　about　it。　I　did　just　get　a　job　at　a　really　famous　magazine
  with　one　of　the　most　powerful　women　in　the　industry。　A　job　a　million
  girls　would　die　for。”
  We　smiled　at　each　other；　but　her　smile　was　tinged　with　sadness。　“I’m
  so　happy　for　you；”　she　said。　“Such　a　beautiful；　grown…up　daughter　I
  have。　Honey；　I　just　know　this　is　going　to　be　the　start　of　a
  wonderful；　wonderful　time　in　your　life。　Ah；　I　remember　graduating
  from　college　and　moving　to　New　York。　All　alone　in　that　big；　crazy
  city。　Scary　but　so；　so　exciting。　I　want　you　to　love　every　minute　of
  it；　all　the　plays　and　films　and　people　and　shopping　and　books。　It’s
  going　to　be　the　best　time　of　your　life—I　just　know　it。”　She　rested
  her　hand　on　mine；　something　she　didn’t　usually　do。　“I’m　so　proud　of
  you。”
  “Thanks；　Mom。　Does　that　mean　you’re　proud　enough　of　me　to　buy　me　an
  apartment；　furniture；　and　a　whole　new　wardrobe？”
  “Yeah；　right；”　she　said　and　smacked　the　top　of　my　head　with　a
  magazine　on　her　way　to　the　microwave　to　heat　two　more　cups。　She
  hadn’t　said　no；　but　she　wasn’t　exactly　grabbing　her　checkbook；
  either。
  I　spent　the　rest　of　the　evening　e…mailing　everyone　I　knew；　asking　if
  anyone　needed　a　roommate　or　knew　of　someone　who　did。　I　posted　some
  messages　online　and　called　people　I　hadn’t　spoken　to　in　months。　No
  luck。　I　decided　my　only　choice—without　permanently　moving　onto
  Lily’s　couch　and　inevitably　wrecking　our　friendship；　or　crashing　at
  Alex’s；　which　neither　of　us　was　ready　for—was　to　sublet　a　room
  short…term；　until　I　could　get　my　bearings　in　the　city。　It　would　be
  best　to　find　my　own　room　somewhere；　and　preferably　one　that　was
  already　furnished　so　I　wouldn’t　have　to　deal　with　that；　too。
  The　phone　rang　at　a　little　after　midnight；　and　I　lunged　for　it；
  nearly　falling　off　my　twin…size　childhood　bed　in　the　process。　A
  framed；　signed　picture　of　Chris　Evert；　my　childhood　hero；　smiled
  down　from　my　wall；　just　below　a　bulletin　board　that　still　had
  magazine　cutouts　of　Kirk　Cameron　plastered　across　it。　I　smiled　into
  the　phone。
  “Hey；　champ；　it’s　Alex；”　he　said　with　that　tone　of　voice　that　meant
  something　had　happened。　It　was　impossible　to　tell　if　it　was
  something　good　or　bad。　“I　just　got　an　e…mail　that　a　girl；　Claire
  McMillan；　is　looking　for　a　roommate。　Princeton　girl。　I’ve　met　her
  before；　I　think。　dating　Andrew；　totally　normal。　You　interested？”
  “Sure；　why　not？　Do　you　have　her　number？”
  “No；　I　only　have　her　e…mail；　but　I’ll　forward　you　her　message　and
  you　can　get　in　touch　with　her。　I　think　she’ll　be　good。”
  I　e…mailed　Claire　while　I　finished　talking　to　Alex　and　then　finally
  got　some　sleep　in　my　own　bed。　Maybe；　just　maybe；　this　would　work
  out。
  Claire　McMillan：　not　so　much。　Her　apartment　was　dark　and　depressing
  and　in　the　middle　of　Hell’s　Kitchen；　and　there　was　a　junkie　propped
  up　on　the　doorstep　when　I　arrived。　The　others　weren’t　much　better。
  There　was　a　couple　looking　to　rent　out　an　extra　room　in　their
  apartment　who　made　indirect　references　to　putting　up　with　their
  constant　and　loud　lovemaking；　an　artist　in　her　early　thirties　with
  four　cats　and　a　fervent　desire　for　more；　a　bedroom　at　the　end　of　a
  long；　dark　hallway；　with　no　windows　or　closets；　a　twenty…year…old
  gay　guy　in　his　self…proclaimed　“slutty　stage。”　Each　and　every
  miserable　room　I’d　visited　was　going　for　well　over　1；000　and　my
  salary　was　cashing　in　at　a　whopping　32；500。　And　although　math　had
  never　been　my　strong　suit；　it　didn’t　take　a　genius　to　figure　out
  that　rent　would　eat　up　more　than　12；000　of　it　and　taxes　would　take
  the　rest。　Oh；　and　my　parents　were　confiscating　the　emergencies…only
  credit　card；　now　that　I　was　an　“adult。”　Sweet。
  Lily　pulled　through　after　three　straight　days　of　letdowns。　Since　she
  had　a　vested　interest　in　getting　me　off　her　couch　for　good；　she
  e…mailed　everyone　she　knew。　A　classmate　from　her　Ph。D。　program　at
  Columbia　had　a　friend　who　had　a　boss　who　knew　two　girls　who　were
  looking　for　a　roommate。　I　called　immediately　and　spoke　to　a　very
  nice　girl　named　Shanti；　who　told　me　she　and　her　friend　Kendra　were
  looking　for　someone　to　move　into　their　Upper　East　Side　apartment；　in
  a　room　that　was　miniscule　but　had　a　window；　a　closet；　and　even　an
  exposed　brick　wall。　For　800　a　month。　I　asked　if　the　apartment　had　a
  bathroom　and　kitchen。　It　did　（no　dishwasher　or　bathtub　or　elevator；
  of　course；　but　one　can　hardly　expect　living　in　luxury　their　first
  time　out）。　Bingo。　Shanti　and　Kendra　ended　up　being　two　very　sweet
  and　quiet　Indian　girls　who’d　just　graduated　from　Duke；　worked
  hellishly　long　hours　at　investment　banks；　and　seemed　to　me；　that
  first　day　and　every　day　thereafter；　utterly　indistinguishable　from
  each　other。　I　had　found　a　Home。
  4
  I’d　slept　in　my　new　room　for　three　nights　already　and　still　felt
  like　a　stranger　living　in　a　very　strange　place。　The　room　was　minute。
  Perhaps　slightly　larger　than　the　storage　shed　in　the　backyard　of　my
  house　in　Avon；　but　not　really。　And　unlike　most　empty　spaces　that
  actually　looked　bigger　with　furniture；　my　room　had　shrunk　to　half
  its　size。　I　had　naively　eyed　the　tiny　square　and　decided　that　it　had
  to　be　close　t