Great American Novel by Zoë Appelbaum-Schwartz ‘19

Great American Novel

Sent: Thursday, March 8, 2019 10:33 PM Subject: Hey

Dear Mia,

I’ve written a novel. I know it’s been years since we last spoke, but I would really appreciate some feedback. I’ve attached the first chapter below.

Best wishes, James

Chapter One: Mia.

It was a dark night. Cold. Too cold. The type of night where the only place to be is in bed with your wife or in bed with your best friend’s wife. This was the night that James first met Mia.

It was one of those fancy shindigs. There were women there, though such distractions had never been of much interest to James. You see, James was unlike any man this town had ever seen: tall, dark, handsome in that cool-yet-emotionally-unavailable way. When he wasn’t listening to Neko Case on vinyl or training for the upcoming war, locals often spotted him at the marina, tossing lit cigarettes into the water. It would not be an exaggeration to say that every woman in this town was madly in love with him, though few even knew his name. Even fewer knew his story.

Casually stationed in the liminal space between the rich socialites and the petty wannabes, James sipped cognac from a glass, quietly pondering the absurdity of

war. As he stared ahead, deep in thought, a velvet-clad dame made eyes at him from the punch table. She was the total package. Legs all the way up to the bottom of her torso. The type of arms that had hands at the end. But James paid her no heed, because, though he didn’t know it yet, he only had eyes for Mia.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. Everyone was quiet. Too quiet. A cool wind swept through the hollow space, sending the velvet curtains behind him into a flurry. Slowly, James turned around -- and that’s when he saw her. A very beautiful girl.

She must have been at least 5’9, with average shoulders and an alluring torso. Her pale face was buried in an abridged copy of “Infinite Jest”, which she’d clearly picked up from the coffee table in an attempt to impress James.

James strode towards her. As he walked through the crowd, all of the female dancers stopped, eyes transfixed on the chiseled features of their town’s own corduroy-clad sex symbol.

“Hey.” James said, to the beautiful girl. “What page are you on?”

The girl closed her book. “Wanna get out of here?”

The two swiftly exited the scene and headed out into the streets of New York. The streets were busy. Too busy. Clinging to his arm, the girl tried to hail a taxi.

“No.” James said. “Let’s take a walk.”

Most ordinary men would get lost in the hustle and bustle of the city, but James knew these streets like the back of his hand. He led the girl to a beautiful park.

As they walked through the park, the two lovers looked up at the night sky, which was full of stars. “That’s Aquarius.” the girl said, pointing up at a constellation.

“I’ve changed my mind,” James said. “Let’s hail a taxi.”

They went back to James’ place, which was a tasteful studio apartment with a beautiful view of the big buildings. “My name is Mia, by the way,” the girl said. “Oh, that’s so funny,” said James. “My mom’s name is Mia.”

“Was Mia, that is,” he said, turning away. “I’m so sorry,” said Mia, holding his hand. “When did she pass?”

“She didn’t. She just changed her name when she moved to Dallas last summer.”

“Oh,” Mia said.

“My dad is dead, though. I lost him when I was ten. He was out on one of his annual seal-clubbing expeditions when he got eaten by a polar bear. I wasn’t invited to come with him, of course. Dad said I’d catch frostbite and die.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve been there, you know? Even if he didn’t want me there. The frostbite would’ve been worth it.”

As they sat down on James’ bed, Mia noticed something on his bedside table. Upon closer look, she discovered that it was a bottle of drugs. “Are you okay?” Mia asked, holding his hand. James pulled away.

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

“You can talk to me,” Mia said.

“Well, my therapist says there’s nothing wrong with me, medically speaking,” said James. “But I know I’m depressed.”

Mia offered him a cigarette. He took it.

“This might be a little forward,” said Mia, running her hands through James’ hair. “But I’m in love with you.”

“No, you aren’t.” James said. “You only love the idea of me.”

“Oh,” said Mia.

With that, James stood up. “I’m going to go get some air,” he said, walking out to the fire escape. Mia didn’t follow him.

Nobody ever saw James again after that night. Some say he became a supermodel in Chicago. Some say he’s out hunting the polar bear that murdered his father. Others say that he’s in sunny Los Feliz, writing the next Great American Novel.

Mia still waits for the day when he will return for her. Until then, she will stare out into the marina, listening to Neko Case on vinyl, waiting, just waiting, to see his face one last time.

Zoë Appelbaum-Schwartz ‘19