by J B Glazer
“Oh, it’s your boyfriend.”
“I think Muffy is a girl.”
He quirks a brow at me. “Even better.”
I swat him gently on the arm. After dessert we dance some more and then I decide I should head home. I want to end things on a positive note.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell him. “Thanks for being my date tonight.”
“Thank you. And thank your friend for bailing. Her loss was my gain.”
I smile and pull him in for a hug. “Tell Muffy I say bye.”
He laughs as I saunter away. Please don’t let me go without asking for my number.
“Melanie, wait.” Thank God. “You can tell her yourself.” He nods in Muffy’s direction as she trots past us. You’ve gotta be kidding me.
“I guess she’s over me,” I say.
“I doubt that. Can I have your number?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I tease him.
He punches it in his phone and I leave for real this time.
The entire ride home my mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Luke and the magical night we shared.
Chapter 18
Melanie
I text Lucy the next morning the event was fine and Dreams was represented. I mention nothing of Luke. As much as I’d love to share the news, she’s in such a fragile state. It wouldn’t be right to tell her I met someone while she’s still grieving the loss of Coffee Guy. Never mind. He goes by Mr. Anonymous now. And it’s lucky for him.
I’ve tried to manage this on my own, but I’m in need of some reinforcements. So I text my girls and ask if we can meet for drinks this week. My girls are my high school group of friends: Lexi, Liv, Sydney, and Emily. It’s weird because half are married with kids and the other half are still single, myself included. But we’re all still close and try to meet up whenever we can. On a whim I decide to invite Lucy’s friend, Trish. They work together and have grown close. I’d love to hear her perspective. We’ve never met but I Google her and find her work number. I call her and she says she’d love to get together with us and come up with a game plan.
I add her to the group text and we all agree to meet for drinks on Friday night. The week passes quickly. I’m so busy at work I haven’t had a chance to give much thought to Luke. So I’m thrilled when he texts me on Wednesday. He said he’s traveling for work, so we make plans to meet for drinks the following week. I hate that I’m meeting someone right when Lucy got her heart broken. But who knows what will happen—for either of us.
Friday night rolls around and I’m looking forward to getting some much needed advice. Lexi and her sister, Tara, arrive first, sporting matching baby bumps. They are the cutest pregnant people I’ve ever seen. Lexi is further along because she’s due eight weeks earlier, but pretty close. I had hoped someday that would be me and Lucy. I introduce Trish to the group and we all make small talk. Once we have our drinks I give an update on Lucy’s situation. Everyone throws out ideas. But I’m most interested in what Lexi has to say. All of my friends have met Lucy. I introduced her to the group when she first moved to Chicago. She’ll come out with us once in a while, but everyone knows her on the surface. She’s not the type to open up, particularly in a larger group setting. Lexi got to see the Lucy I know and love. They worked closely together when Lucy planned Lexi’s wedding reception. Lexi and her husband, Jake, got married in Aruba. They decided to throw a party in Chicago for those who couldn’t make the trip. She knew Lucy was an event planner, so I hooked them up and they hit it off. But that’s not the only reason I want her advice. Lexi was engaged before she met Jake. Her fiancé cheated on her and she was a real mess. But she got through it and while it’s not totally the same situation, I figure maybe she’ll have some advice I could use.
“All you can do is just be there for her,” Lexi says. “She needs to get through this in her own way. She’s obviously hurting and I wish I could say there was something you could do or say that would make it magically disappear. Only time can do that. But knowing she has support from her friends will be a huge help.”
“I agree with that. But don’t you think it will be good for her to not be sitting at home alone? That’s when your thoughts can drive you crazy,” Tara says.
“What about a distraction?” Emily offers.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Maybe taking up a new hobby. The less time she’s alone the less time she has to dwell on it.”
“What about cooking?” Trish suggests. “She’s a terrible cook.”
“Good idea,” I say. “She is a terrible cook.”
Liv says she’ll text me the name of a place she and her husband went. They got the classes as a wedding gift and highly recommend them. We all chat awhile longer before parting ways. Trish and I hang back once everyone leaves. We end up staying another hour. I’ve never met her before and we hit it off. This doesn’t surprise me considering Lucy and I both value the same qualities in a friend. Though I wish our meeting had been under different circumstances. We talk about Lucy, what she told us about Mr. Anonymous, and our shared hatred of this man who destroyed our friend.
“I’m changing his name to Mr. A. That’s short for Asshole,” says Trish.
I have to concur.
“So how are we going to convince her to do these classes?” I ask. “She would never agree to it if she knows we bought them.”
“Let me see what I can do. I have connections in the industry who can probably give me some free passes or a great deal. I’ll tell her I got them from a vendor and thought she could use them. Lucy knows I’m a better cook than her.”
I laugh. “Anyone’s a better cook than Lucy.”
“Cheers to that.”
We agree to check in with each other periodically with updates. And that we won’t tell Lucy we met. I feel guilty going behind her back. Lucy and I never lie to each other. But I tell myself I’m not technically lying and my heart is in the right place.
When I get home I type up some case notes and get ready for bed. Just as I’m about to turn in my phone rings.
“Hello.” There’s silence on the line. “Luce?”
“’Lo.”
“Luce, are you there?”
“Sss me.” That’s followed by a loud clanging noise.
“Watchya doing?”
“Nuffin.” She giggles. “Oops. Idroppedthebottle.”
“Oh my God, are you drunk?” Lucy never has more than two drinks. She doesn’t like to be out of control.
“A lil. I’s fine.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Don’t. Hic. I’m going out.”
“What? Wait for me to come over.”
“I wanna tattoo.”
“Lucy Chalmers. Don’t you dare!”
“A Phoenix.”
Shit.
“That’s a great idea. I just think you should make the decision when you’re sober. Luce?”
“Gonna go now.”
“Luce, don’t hang up—” Damn it. She hung up on me. I grab a bag from my closet, throw in some clothes and a toothbrush, and head to her place.
Lucy doesn’t answer, so I use my key to get in. I find her passed out on the couch. Thank God she’s still here. There’s an empty bottle of Merlot on her coffee table. She didn’t even use a glass. She’s still in her work clothes and her hair is pasted to her face. I nudge her and she opens her eyes, which are red and puffy. My heart breaks seeing her like this. “Let’s get to bed,” I tell her. I pull her up and put my arm around her waist. We make it to her room and I help her change into her pajamas.
“I’m gonna be sick,” she says.
I follow her into the bathroom and hold her hair back as she vomits. I rub her back while I talk to her in a soft, soothing voice, telling her everything will be OK. After a while she rests her head on the cold, hard floor. “Let’s get you to bed,” I suggest. I help her up and we make it to her room. “I’ll be right back.”
I go to her kitchen and
bring her a glass of cold water. She takes a few sips and I set it on her nightstand. Then I tuck her in under the covers, smoothing her hair away from her face. She closes her eyes and I wait until she drifts off. I wash up then put her wastebasket next to her, just in case she gets sick again. I climb in beside her and turn out the light, leaving us in total darkness.
“Mel,” she whispers.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. I wasn’t asleep yet. Thanks for staying.”
I squeeze her hand. “That’s what friends are for.”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I know. You’ll always have me. You’ll never be alone.”
After a few minutes she begins to snore lightly. I laugh to myself and cover my ears. I can’t sleep so eventually I head to the couch.
I think of Luke and our upcoming date. If things with him go well, I worry about what it means for Lucy. But I try not to go there. As I said, I’ll never leave her alone. No man will ever come between us.
Chapter 19
Lucy
I’ve been thinking a lot about my recent conversation with Melanie. And how I told her if only I had answers I’d get some closure. I decide that he owes me an explanation. You can’t just profess you want a relationship with someone then disappear. I need to understand what happened. He owes me that, at least. So I plan to hunt him down and make him talk. The only problem with searching for Mr. Anonymous is I have no clue where to start. I decide to go back to the scene where it all began: Starbucks.
On Monday morning I spend extra time getting ready. I even put on more makeup than usual. Then I wash it off because I want to look like myself, and as though I’m not trying too hard. My hands are shaking as I open the door. I glance at the people ahead of me in line, but no one looks familiar. Even the baristas are different. I grab a table and hang out for a few minutes. But there’s no sign of him. I analyze every face that passes, searching for him among strangers. I catch glimpses of him in the confident walk of one man, the dark wavy hair of another. But just when my heart races with anticipation, they turn around and they’re not him. I see hints of him everywhere, from the apple display at the grocery store to the jazz music that plays in the elevator on my ride up to work. It’s not fair that even though he’s chosen not to be in my life, he still manages to be a part of it.
On Thursday after work I head to Cusp. I linger outside but can’t work up the nerve to go in. He told me it’s his sanctuary, his sacred place he’s shared with no one else. Who knows if that’s even true? It could be a line he feeds dates to make them feel special. But somehow I sense it was the truth. I have a hard time infringing on that, which makes me angrier, knowing how he hurt me yet I can’t do the same to him. I circle the block a few times then head home.
I decide a walk will clear my head. So instead of hailing a cab I head toward my apartment. My phone buzzes and I see it’s a text from Trish.
Left an envelope with your doorman. Got some cooking passes from a vendor. Figured you could use them more than me. ;) xo.
When I arrive home my cheeks are pink from the cold and my hands are numb. I peel off my gloves and ask George if he has an envelope for me. He hands it to me and inside are four passes to Bon Appetit Cooking School. I text her back to thank her and put them in my top kitchen drawer. I have no intention of using them, but feel bad throwing them away.
The weeks pass and I call off my search. Without knowing his name or where he works, there’s very little I have to go on. I’m still so angry with him and with myself. Not only for agreeing to the stupid bet, but for suggesting we don’t share any personal information. If we had I could hunt him down and make him face what he did. I wish with all my might for the strength to move past this. But I’m finding that I can’t. Things that used to bring me pleasure no longer do. Yoga used to be the one place I felt at peace. But now I’ll do a pose and it will remind me of some position we tried. So even there he’s in my head. At work I’m going through the motions, but it’s as if I’m on autopilot.
On Monday we have a status meeting. Usually I come in early to prepare, but I found it hard to get out of bed this morning. While Genevieve gives her update I scan my notes. My heart sinks when I see “change time of lunch delivery” on Friday’s to do list. I think back to Friday. Did I call the caterer? I’ve never been unsure about anything like this before. I’ll have to call today to confirm, but it won’t look good if I already did it.
“Lucy?” Don’s looking at me.
“Oh, sorry.” I give my update and wait impatiently for the meeting to end.
I’m about to call the caterer when Don appears at my desk. “Can I have a word?”
I nod, a lump forming in my throat. I follow him to his office.
“Shut the door,” he instructs.
I do and take a seat.
“How are things going with the Clayton-Ashford floral arrangements?”
“Great. I requested samples from Blooms and three other vendors. They’re working up comps and pricing and are scheduled to have something to me at the end of the week.”
He nods. “I noticed you haven’t been entering all your activity in Master Planner.”
“I am a bit behind, but I’ll stay late tonight and get caught up.”
He studies me across his desk.
“That’s very unlike you. Is everything OK? You haven’t seemed yourself these past few weeks.”
“Just some personal stuff. But I’m fine.”
“Lucy, you know how much I care for you. And I think you’re terrific at what you do. You’re one of my best planners. Efficient, organized, and personable. That’s why I selected you to take over for Charlotte.”
“Thank you.”
“So whatever’s going on, I need you to fix it. We have a lot riding on this wedding. And I need to count on you to be operating at the top of your game.”
“Understood. I promise nothing like this will happen again.”
Once I’m excused I head back to my desk. I can’t believe Don noticed something is off. I’ve been trying to hide it, so either I’ve been doing a bad job or he’s more perceptive than I thought. A sense of nausea washes over me. My career is everything, and I’ve let the issues from my personal life put all I’ve worked for in jeopardy. And now I’ll be under the microscope. I’ll have to work that much harder to prove I’m at the same level I was before. The thought infuriates me. I take a deep breath to ward off the panic that’s filling my chest.
As it turns out I did change the time for the lunch delivery. I can’t believe I don’t remember calling. And that I forgot to check it off my list. I’m totally slipping. I vow not to let him ruin my career too.
I stay late and get caught up on my activity in Master Planner. It’s an internal system that tracks our progress. As I was entering things in I found a few other mistakes I made these past few weeks. I don’t make mistakes. Period. So to see them in black and white was hard to take.
I get home and change into my pajamas. I’m about to throw on his shirt, but I eye it with disgust. I’m tired of him having a hold on me. I march into my kitchen and take out a trash bag. I shake it open vigorously then put the shirt in and head to the garbage room. I open the chute and place the bag inside. But I can’t let go. As much as I want to, I just can’t. Frustrated with myself, I head back to my apartment, still holding the bag. I throw his shirt on the floor and kick it across the room.
Despair
Darkness envelops me a like a blanket,
Wrapping her claws around me.
Holding tight,
She won’t let go.
I give up the fight.
The light is too blinding.
It’s eight thirty and pitch black outside, but I decide to take a walk. I make my way past the rows of buildings and shops in my neighborhood until I get to the park. The trees are blanketed with snow. Their empty branches are so heavy it makes me wonder how they manage to bear the weight of the mounds of
wet snow. How they don’t snap. I pull my coat tighter around me as I’m hit with an icy blast of cold air. I stuff my hands in my pockets even though I’m wearing gloves. The only sound is the crunch on my footsteps on the gravel, which is covered with patches of ice. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. As I walk the path becomes more deserted. I guess there aren’t many runners or bikers who would brave this weather—or the late hour. As I get closer to the lake the wind picks up, making an eerie howling noise. My eyes water and my face stings, but I trudge on.
I know it’s reckless to be out here alone at night. But I’m almost daring someone to find me. To be honest I don’t care what happens anymore. I walk and think about my weekend with Mr. Anonymous. How I opened myself up to him. How I loved the person I became when we were together. Then I think about my friends and how supportive they’ve been. I think of Melanie and her words that not all men are like him. I think of her student, the one who drew the Phoenix.
Suddenly, there’s a loud crack from a branch behind me. I whip around but no one’s there. My heart begins pounding in my ears. I’m attuned to every noise, but there’s only silence. I decide to head back home when I hear more branches snapping behind me. It’s probably just a wild animal, but I feel vulnerable. I break out into a run. I almost lose my footing once, but I make it. Breathing hard, I lean against my door once I’ve let myself in. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel something other than anger or despair.
I feel determined. Being out in the woods made me realize I want to live. And what I’ve been doing these past few months isn’t living. I think about the trees and how they’ve managed to hang on even though the icy snow has taken up residence. About how their branches will come back to life and be covered with leaves that will bloom again come spring. Right now they’re dormant, waiting. Like those trees, I’m still here and the possibilities are endless.
I call Melanie the next day and tell her I’m going to adopt a cat this weekend. She says she’ll help me pick one out from PAWS. We head there on Saturday and I find the ugliest cat of the bunch.