The week of orientation for the University of Chicago was hectic, but that might have been a good thing for me as it kept me focused. I had always woken up fairly early whenever there were things to do, and college was no exception. I made it a point to eat breakfast every morning at Hitchcock Hall, which meant that I had to have enough time to get ready in the morning. I mostly showered and dressed, and stuck to my usual skirts and sweaters capped off with a long coat. Since I didn’t need to wear that much makeup on a daily basis I could be out the door quickly. Having a driver made arriving a breeze, and I was often among the first students in the dining hall in the mornings despite the commute.

  On a given morning I would camp in the dining area with the New York Times I brought from home while I sipped my coffee and ate. Eventually girls I recognized from Hitchcock would come down for breakfast, and we would form a table together. It was really an eclectic group, and somehow I expected UChicago students to be all of the same mold. I was surprised to find that there was a wide variety; there were business students like me, but also a lot of arts and science students and everyone seemed to be from a different place. I wasn’t good at approaching people, but once again I was fortunate in that pretty, well-dressed girls didn’t have to wait long for people to gravitate towards them.

  There was a lot to do that first week; registration for classes, placement test waivers, and adviser meetings. I nailed down my schedule early; my placement scores from May were high, and as a result I was able to skip many of the intro level courses. I still had the core curriculum to work through, targeted towards an Economics major. I followed my House-mates from event to event, and when we weren’t at freshmen activities or attending faculty addresses I hovered around the Hitchcock lounge or the dorms. I was usually on campus until the late evenings where I would quietly send for my driver and duck out.

  There were parties that first Friday night where a group of us sort of migrated from one place to another. I think a lot of the fraternities and sororities were looking to recruit, but I didn’t show much interest in anything beyond spending time with my House-mates. It ended up being a late night, and I had to constantly page my driver to state my location. When I finally called it a night I was surprised that my driver was able to find me right away to pick me up. I was still getting used to being monitored.

  The weekend was devoted to taking care of Butterfly Capital business which had been put off until I could meet in person. The sales of the first dozen or so domain names had gone through quite well; there were no public offerings, merely quiet bids to already established companies who threw down cash to snatch up shopping.com or casino.com. My net worth had risen three-fold with simply these sales, with more incoming. Thorne and the rest of the Northern Trust associates working with me seemed disappointed that I was putting my growing liquid capital into safe markets, utilities, and bonds. I think they expected the types of daring shorts I had made to get my money in the first place, but I was adamant about storing it away as cash.

  Classes started the following Monday. I switched from starting my day in the cafeteria and instead met whichever Hitchcock girls woke up in the dorms first. I think they were shocked that I could throw myself together so early in the morning. No one knew exactly where I appeared from since no one saw me around the dorms. I always waved it off and ushered them to the dining hall. I had a three course schedule for the fall quarter, and it was a far cry from my high school classes. Though we met every day, it was unlike any class I or Matthew had had in our respective timelines.

  I was expecting large lectures, but I wasn’t expecting discussion sections. I was used to classes where I could coast; finishing my work succinctly and zoning out for the rest of class while the teacher droned on. Here, there was no droning. When I argued that consumer confidence was a lagging indicator, a sophomore in a faded hoodie immediately cut me off, citing three different case studies from the 1980s that proved me wrong. I didn't get an A for showing up; I got an A because I learned how to counter-punch.

  It felt like I was put through the wringer for my first week of classes, but oddly enough I relished it. The material was fascinating for once, and I finally felt like I could actually challenge myself. I had a little bit of a leg up on the other students, but I was not effortlessly excelling as I had for the last eight years. If I received a check mark, rather than the check plus-plus, I knew that I had earned it. I also appreciated when my economics classmates challenged my assertions on the markets, even if they were completely wrong.

  I would spend the afternoons either studying in the library or the lounge, and would meet for dinner with Hitchcock every evening. Inevitably I would end up in someone’s dorm room or was talked into strapping on the guitar to play a song or two. Promptly at nine every night, I would sneak away and make my way to the car to drive home. I could have stayed longer, but I felt guilty staying out too late that Friday and making my driver wait. I felt disconnected mysteriously leaving the hall every night, and it wasn’t long before I had a reputation of being the Cinderella of Hitchcock Hall. No one knew where I disappeared to every night, but returned first thing in the morning.

  I suppose I was avoiding returning to my luxurious apartment every night. It was amazingly comfortable, and I loved the fact that if I left a towel on the bathroom floor it magically returned to the rack dried and folded every day. It just felt a bit too quiet; I had gotten used to the noise of my family’s house again, and I felt very lonely at night. I wished that I could bring my new girlfriends here after dinner (or perhaps a boy), but I knew that it would probably isolate me even more, not to mention it would diminish my growing mystique amongst the House-mates.

  One thing that had been on my mind since arriving in Chicago is connecting with my pen pal Catherine. We had been writing letters back and forth since middle school, and even met in person years ago when my family was vacationing in the city. That was how Catherine knew Maya, but it wasn’t the full story. Catherine had been Matthew’s wife in his timeline, which is why I kept in contact with her when I started my second life.

  While I had been improving my fortunes in this new timeline, this also extended to everyone that Matthew cared about. Catherine was on this list, and knowing the struggles she would have in her life, I was determined to give her a better future since my existence meant that her husband would never exist. I had no illusions of romance; Catherine was completely straight, and even if I had a certain flexibility about my sexuality I didn’t want to seriously date anyone. The main reason was that pursuing her would be a betrayal to Matthew, in a sense. I wanted to connect with her, not marry her again, and since we were both in Chicago I hoped that we could upgrade from pen pals to good friends.

  When I finally was able to get a hold of her, she was excited that we were finally living in the same city. I immediately suggested a Saturday on Michigan Avenue, omitting the fact that I had already made all of the arrangements before I got on the phone with her. She was a student at DePaul, which was not too far north of there, and while she reminded me that Michigan Avenue is a bit expensive I told her not to worry. I was just excited to have an excuse to get out of the apartment on the weekend.

  I told her that we would meet at Ralph Lauren around eleven, and I spent that entire morning fussing over my appearance. I went with a black sweater and gray skirt, with a long white coat and nylons. The goal was to look “adult enough” for my first luncheon as an adult. When my driver dropped me off at the valet, I scanned the lobby for Catherine and immediately recognized her as she stood uncomfortably by the host’s podium.

  She had the same bob of black hair from Matthew’s memories as a forty-something, as well as the thirteen year-old that I met years ago. She was shorter than I was, dressed in a green hooded coat and jeans, and looked identical to the photos from her college years. She looked relieved when she spotted me, and immediately smiled when she saw me.

  “Maya, is that you? You look amazing!” she exclaimed as she hugged me.

  “It’s good to see you too, Cat,” I responded. She sounded exactly the way she did in Matthew’s timeline.

  “I’m surprised you wanted to come here; this place is really expensive. I don’t even think there’s a table free.”

  I waved her off. “No, it’s covered,” I said, turning to the host. “Good morning. Reservation for two under Peterson, eleven o’clock?”

  The host quickly checked his book, and smiled upon confirming “Ah yes, Ms. Peterson. Coat check is to your left, whenever you’re ready.”

  I admit that I was still somewhat of a novice when it came to high-end dining. I hadn’t expected my assistant Karen to choose a restaurant as elite as Ralph Lauren, but I tried to look like I belonged here. While my outfit supported the illusion, Catherine’s worn coat looked a little out of place. We were led to a small table by a fireplace and a polished wood shelf filled with books; the entire restaurant had an old world feel to it. Both of us ogled the interior as we sat at our table.

  “Maya, this place is expensive! How did you get a reservation?”

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  I shifted uncomfortably. “I just called and they said they had an opening. I thought it would be fun to have a nice lunch since we haven’t seen each other for years.”

  “Well, if you say so. It is really nice to see you in person again. And now you live in the city! Imagine if we went to the same school!”

  “I know, right? I’m still getting used to the University of Chicago, and Chicago in general I suppose.”

  Catherine nodded. “Yeah, same with me and DePaul. My grandfather was an alum, which is the main reason why I am there.”

  “Well, the full-ride college fund he left you when he died is another good reason to go.”

  Catherine tilted her head. “I told you about that?”

  I froze for a second. “You must have. Er, in one of your letters.” I shifted, hoping to pivot the conversation before she pressed. “Do you know what you’ll be majoring in?”

  “Not yet. I think maybe literature, or something with history.”

  I nodded, already knowing the answer. In the old timeline, Catherine had chosen Literature by default, drifting into a degree she never used. That lack of focus led to a decade of dead-end retail jobs and a "starter marriage" at twenty that she deeply regretted and ended badly. She always told Matthew that her unfocused college years were the root of it all. I wasn't going to let her make the same mistake twice.

  We spent the meal going back and forth, chatting about our respective schools and what we’ve been doing for the past few years. We each knew the basics of our lives due to the letters, but it was nice to delve into details over food. Everything was delicious, and when the waiter eventually brought the check I pulled out my platinum executive card as quietly as possible, but I knew Catherine spotted it and said nothing.

  Karen had also scheduled a personal shopping appointment at Neiman Marcus, which I revealed to Catherine as we collected our coats. I was about to call my driver to pick us up before Catherine pointed out Neiman Marcus was just across the street. I still had to update and tell him we were switching venues, and when we entered the door I dropped my name and we were whisked to a private set of elevators and to a suite upstairs. I had been meaning to go clothes shopping since I arrived, since I really needed to brush up on my wardrobe. It was one area of knowledge that Matthew had been sorely lacking, but Karen assured me this would be a good way to learn. I also figured it would be fun for Catherine as well.

  When we arrived in the suite, there were already racks of clothing waiting for us. In the center of the mirrored and curtained room, there were couches as well as bottled waters. “It’s like something out of a movie!” gawked Catherine as she thumbed through the clothes. There was an attendant in the room with us, who answered any questions about what was available, and at a moment’s notice could grab anything that we requested that wasn’t already there.

  Catherine and I dug through, and noticed that they didn’t just pull a dress or a sweater – they brought up gloves, scarves, and accessories that went with it. I tried to explain the styles and colors I liked to the attendant, and minutes later I would have a new selection. I told Catherine to make her own requests and try on whatever she wanted, to which she shyly acquiesced, unable to resist the allure of the outfits before her. I told her to try anything she wanted; nothing had price tags but I could already see the wheels in her head turning.

  I had purchased a few high end pieces back in Minnesota, but this was the first time I was splurging. I must have chosen half a dozen skirts and tops, simply giving a nod to have the attendant set it aside. Catherine tried on several outfits herself, but very quietly would set them aside afraid of wrinkling them. Eventually they brought out coats, and I could tell Catherine fell for a black one immediately.

  “I love that on you,” I told her as she was looking at herself in the mirror. “You should get it!”

  “Oh, there’s no way I could – oh my god!” she gasped as she checked the price tag which was tucked under the collar. ‘This coat is two thousand dollars!”

  “Consider it an early Christmas present!” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Catherine gawked at me, with a look of growing fear in her eyes. “Maya, this is insane. Who are you? We’ve only ever written about school or activities, but suddenly we’re in Neiman Marcus in a private suite trying on expensive clothes!”

  The air was sucked out of the room. I suddenly felt awkward, like someone trying way too hard to impress.

  “I…I’m sorry, Catherine. It’s the first time we got to hang out in Chicago, and I just wanted to do something nice…”

  “I appreciate that, but can you explain what’s going on?”

  “I can explain. Let’s just wrap this up.” I told the attendant to take care of the clothes I picked out, and asked if there was a place to take a break and grab a coffee. Sure enough, there was an exclusive lounge in the store called The Zodiac. We took a corner booth, listening to the clinking of silverware around us. I nervously folded my hands in front of me, not meeting her eyes as the servers set down our coffees.

  I sighed. “This is going to sound crazy, but I have money. A lot of money.”

  “Maya, I met your parents. You guys didn’t seem that rich.”

  I rubbed my neck. “My parents don’t know I have money. No one knows. I’ve been trading stocks for years, and I made a lot of profit really quickly. And no one knew about it.”

  I told Catherine everything; my tech shorts, my domain name sales, even about my personal assistant. How my bank required that I have security and a private driver, and how I wasn’t allowed to live in the dorms.

  “...And every night I have to leave campus to come home.”

  “Like Cinderella.”

  “Exactly! The fact is, when I’m not in class or on campus, I’m kind of lonely. I’m in this beautiful Gold Coast apartment behind a mountain of security, but if everyone at school knew I was secretly rich…I dunno what they would say. I don’t even know how to be rich.”

  “So you weren’t trying to show off?”

  “No, no!” I assured her. “I’ve never been to Neiman Marcus before! Karen set this all up for me! I just wanted to have a fun day with you; you’re my first friend in Chicago after all, and now you’re the only person who knows my little secret. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  Catherine shook her head. “I’m not mad at all, Maya. I mean, I’m a little shocked that you never mentioned having all this money in your letters.”

  “I never bought that much when I was in high school, I just used the money to make money. I never lived like I had too much money. It’s just different now that I am on my own and in Chicago.”

  Catherine twisted her mouth. “I guess I felt a little overwhelmed with everything here. I don’t want to be a mooch or anything, but look at me; I’m not a high-end anything!”

  “I might look like it, but I don’t feel high-end either.”

  “So,” asked Catherine with a smirk, “I assume the coffee’s on you?”

  I laughed. “Of course! And I’m dead serious about the coat. It’s too cute on you not to buy!”

  “It might be fun to have a super-rich friend,” she smiled. “I don’t suppose I could see your little lair once we’re done here?”

  After our coffee we returned to the suite, where I managed to convince Catherine to take the coat. I learned that everything I had pointed out was already scheduled to be delivered to my apartment automatically as part of the personal shopping experience. With a quick page to my driver, he pulled up to the loading area and opened the door for the two of us. Catherine glanced at me sidelong when we hit the road.

  “A private driver, huh?”

  I sighed. “I’m still getting used to it. Nice not to have to carry bags, though.”

  We laughed as we pulled into my building, and I informed the front desk about my guest. I insisted Catherine get put on the confirmed list, and I led her to my elevator. Catherine was as floored about my apartment as I had been weeks before.

  “It’s nice, but it’s so you! Look, here’s your guitar! And wow, this is a nice stereo system! We have to listen to The Pumpkins on this thing.”

  “Absolutely, let me just go change,” I said, already heading to my bedroom to throw on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

  We spent the rest of the day poking through my music collection and swapping our tastes. Unsurprisingly, a lot of our tastes aligned since it was Matthew and Catherine’s love of music that helped them get together in the first place. At a certain point we had a pizza delivered, which Catherine assured me was the best in the city as we ate on the living room floor. I allowed her the moment; of course it was the best pizza place in the city – it was the site of Matthew and Catherine’s first date in that lost timeline. I suppose now it would be Maya and Catherine’s favorite place to eat.

  I called for my driver to take Catherine back to her dorm, yet another example of my newfound opulence that floored Catherine. The clothes had come up the service entrance while we laughed away the afternoon, and I pulled out the black coat for Catherine to take home with her. I refused to take no for an answer, and she grudgingly accepted. But not too grudgingly, because it was a nice coat.

  When Catherine left and the silence returned, for once it didn’t feel daunting. It was as if the party had just ended, and I could relax. Sure, I’d be the Cinderella of Hitchcock Hall on Monday, but at least someone knew my secret. One of my secrets, of course; no one could ever know the full scope of Maya Peterson, but at least the burden wasn’t as heavy as it was this morning.