by Glazer, J B
I wake up the next morning and grab a quick workout at the gym in my apartment building. I’m downstairs in the lobby by eight fifty. There’s something to be said for going to bed early. When the car pulls up, Charlie spies me and waves enthusiastically. I hop into the backseat.
“Hi, Char. I’ve missed you!”
“Auntie Lex, guess where we’re going.”
“Where?”
“To the aquarium. I can’t wait to see the sharks! Did you know there are more than three hundred and fifty different kinds?”
“I did not know that. When did you get to be such a smart kid?”
He shrugs and rattles off more facts until we arrive. The three of us walk in, and Charlie heads right for the huge Caribbean reef tank filled with sea turtles, eels, sharks and colorful fish of all sizes. He stands there mesmerized, even though he’s seen it many times. We spend the morning exploring the various exhibits and decide to catch a dolphin show at eleven, followed by lunch. We eat at the in-house café so we’ll have time to do some more exploring. Charlie is especially excited about the jellies, a special exhibit I haven’t seen before. This time it’s my turn to be mesmerized. By the time we get to the car, Charlie is passed out in his stroller.
“Looks like we’ve tired him out. Will he transfer?”
“He usually does,” says Jules as she lifts him into his car seat.
On the ride home, I watch him sleeping peacefully. “Thanks for coming out this way today,” I tell my sister. “I needed a hug from Charlie.”
“Anytime. Did something happen?”
“Not really.” I briefly tell her about Molly. “I guess it put things into perspective for me. As bad as my problems seem, I have my health and my family. I’m lucky for that.”
“Yes, you are, but it doesn’t diminish what you’re going through. It’s tough losing someone you love.”
“I know, but when I think about the pain Molly’s family must be experiencing, I feel bad wallowing in self-pity.
“I don’t think you’re wallowing—in fact just the opposite. I’m very proud of you and the way you’ve handled things. You’ve held your head up high and landed an awesome job, and you haven’t lost your righteous indignation.”
“What?” I ask sharply.
“Exactly,” she says with a laugh. “I just mean you’re still you. I love that you haven’t let Ben get the best of you.”
“I guess,” I say somewhat skeptically.
“Believe me, when you’re ready to date, you’ll have the boys eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Just you wait. You’ll see.”
I sure hope she’s right.
I wake up on Monday and feel achy all over. I chalk it up to a hard workout over the weekend and hop in the shower. I find myself sneezing all day at work, and my throat is starting to feel scratchy. I know the feeling all too well, but I don’t have time to get sick. I must have caught something from being at the hospital; I’ll have to up my vitamin regimen until I build my immunity. I rummage through my desk for some Tylenol. I take two and make it through the rest of the day. I sleep terribly that night even though I’m exhausted. In my career I’ve rarely taken a sick day, but I decide I’m not doing anyone any favors by going into the office. I send Morgan and my team an e-mail saying that I’m home sick and tell them to call my cell if they need anything. I scan my schedule to see which meetings I have planned and notice there’s one with Joann, Jake’s secretary, on the calendar. It’s customary for her to meet with new hires to discuss their background and interests so she can add them to the new business database, a tool the agency uses to match talent to pitch opportunities. I was supposed to meet with her early on, but the meeting got postponed. I send her a note that I’m out sick and ask her to reschedule. I spend most of the day in bed; it’s the most rest I’ve gotten in as long as I can remember.
The next morning I still feel like crap, so I decide to work from home, fully intending to be in the office tomorrow. But when I wake up the following day, my head feels like it’s about to explode. I haven’t seen my doctor since I moved back to Chicago, but the office is willing to fit me in with the nurse practitioner, which I’m glad about. I’ve known my doctor for years and don’t want to go into any details about my personal life. During my appointment the nurse asks me about my symptoms and examines me. It turns out I have a sinus infection. She prescribes me antibiotics and assures me I should be feeling better within twenty-four hours.
“Do you think I can go back to work tomorrow?” I ask, feeling guilty for having stayed home three days.
“That’s entirely up to you. But don’t push it.”
I get home, and there’s an e-mail from Simon, saying word has it that I’m terribly ill. I e-mail him back and tell him not to be so dramatic; I hope to be back tomorrow. As I read through my other messages, my landline rings, interrupting me. It’s Roland from the front desk of my apartment building, calling to tell me I have a delivery.
“I wasn’t expecting anything. Do you know what it is?”
“Some guy just hand-delivered a bag from Cahan’s Deli.”
I go downstairs and peer into the bag. There’s a challah roll and a white Styrofoam bowl that appears to contain soup. Puzzled, I go upstairs and empty the bag and find a note inside.
Heard you were sick. This is hands down the best chicken noodle soup and rivals anything you’ll find in your New York delis. Feel better. —Jake
I put down the note and smile. He remembered our conversation from my interview. Joann must have told him I was sick. I taste the soup; it’s delicious. I send Jake a text to thank him and admit that while the soup is up there, it’s still a close second. I try not to read too much into the gesture, but I can’t help think he doesn’t go around sending soup to all of Hartman & Taylor’s sick employees. Then again he really urged me to try Cahan’s, so he could have seen it as an opportunity to do something nice for me. Or perhaps he is interested in me. This thought fills me with hope. Jake Hartman is just what the doctor ordered.
The following week I have my first business trip. I’m going to a beauty trade show in Las Vegas that will offer a look at major trends to expect in cosmetics, hair, nails, and skin care. I’ve attended this event every year with a number of my coworkers, but Hartman & Taylor has opted to send me as its sole agency representative. I don’t mind, because I know a lot of the vendors that will be there and already have received many dinner invitations. It’s an action-packed three days filled with hundreds of exhibitors on the showroom floor, speeches from prominent industry leaders, and educational seminars on the latest in beauty. My nights are filled with cocktail hours and trips to the casino. On Thursday night, one of my old vendors invites me to see Cirque du Soleil’s O, and I gladly accept. It’s a spectacular show with unimaginable and breathtaking acts. I go clubbing with the group afterward, even though I have an early flight in the morning. I figure I can sleep on the plane; plus I made arrangements with Morgan to work from home because I had a feeling I’d need to recover. The timing isn’t ideal because it’s what would have been my bachelorette party weekend, and I have big plans. Originally I would have spent the weekend in the Hamptons with my girlfriends. Of course I cancelled the trip when I called off my engagement. Instead, Liv planned a girls’ night out with my high school and college friends, and my best friend from New York, Jamie, is coming in. I’m so excited to have everyone I love in one place. I spend Friday afternoon putting together a presentation that captures what I learned from the trade show, along with the implications for our account. I take a nap and am out cold until I’m awoken by Liv coming home from work. We head to the airport to pick up Jamie and spend a low-key evening catching up in anticipation of our big night out tomorrow.
The next day my friends come to our apartment, and we spend the morning lounging by the pool. Liv informs us she made a lunch reservation at the Zodiac Room at Neiman Marcus, one of my favorite places. I haven
’t been in a long time and realize I was last there for one of my bridal showers. I try not to dwell on it; the purpose of this weekend is to have fun and get my mind off the would-have-been wedding festivities. We have a nice lunch followed by some shopping on Michigan Avenue. Afterward everyone comes back to our apartment, where we hang out until dinner. Liv made a reservation at Casa Maya, a fun, upscale Mexican restaurant that, ironically, is filled with bachelorette parties. I’ve never been, but I’ve wanted to try it. We order a round of their famous margaritas, and Liv makes a toast: “To Lexi…and new beginnings.” “Cheers!” everyone says, as they clink glasses. I look around at my friends and feel grateful to have such an amazing support system. I’ve been dreading this weekend because it’s a reminder of what could have been, but surprisingly I’m having a fabulous time. Then the waiter brings another round of drinks.
“We didn’t order these,” I say.
“It’s from the gentleman by the bar,” he tells me.
I look over, and a cute guy raises his glass to me.
“What should I do?” I ask Jamie. “Should I go thank him?”
“Definitely. He bought eleven drinks. That deserves a thank-you. I’ll go with you.”
We make our way through the crowd to the bar. The guy is standing there with a few of his friends. He looks to be in his early thirties and is better looking up close. He has short dark hair, brown eyes, and a goatee. I’m usually not a fan of facial hair, but he pulls it off. He’s wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He has a cool, laidback vibe about him.
“Thanks so much for the drinks,” I tell him.
“It was my pleasure. Are you ladies celebrating something?”
“No, just a girls’ night out.”
He extends a hand and introduces himself. “I’m Ian, and these are my friends, Blake and Aidan.”
“I’m Lexi, and this is my friend, Jamie.”
We all shake hands.
“Are you guys eating here or just getting drinks?” Jamie asks.
“We’re having drinks while we wait for our table,” Ian says. “We’re waiting until one opens up next to you beautiful ladies.”
Oh, he’s quite the charmer. “Have you eaten here before?” I ask him.
“Nope, first time. You?”
“Same,” I reply.
“So, Lexi, what do you do?”
“I work in advertising for Hartman and Taylor.”
“Advertising, huh? Must be a pretty cool job.”
I nod. “I love what I do, and I’m fortunate to work with a great group of people. What about you?”
“I’m a bond trader at the Chicago Board of Trade.”
It’s an impressive job, but I find it hard to ask him about it. I don’t know the first thing about trading.
“So have you worked on any campaigns I would know?” Ian asks.
“I don’t think you’re my target audience. I’ve worked mostly on cosmetics and personal care accounts. My ads run in magazines like Vogue and In Style.”
“Then you assumed right—I probably have not seen any of your ads.”
“You don’t strike me as the Vogue type.”
I glance at Jamie, who’s flirting with Blake. The hostess comes over and tells Ian and his friends that a table has opened up. I look back to where we’re sitting, and sure enough, the table next to us has emptied. We walk back over, and I introduce the boys to my friends. I motion for Jill, Melanie, Sara, and Emily—my single friends—to come sit by me at the end. We spend the rest of our dinner talking as a group, and then we all agree to head over to Century Club next. Jill and I stop by the bathroom on the way out to freshen up.
“What do you think of Ian?” she asks me.
“He’s cute and nice enough.”
“But…” she says.
“There’s no ‘but.’ I don’t know him well enough to make a judgment.” That’s only half true. I usually can tell right away whether or not I click with someone. “What about you? Any of them catch your eye?”
“Blake is cute, but Jamie seems into him.”
“I’ll talk to her. She’s only in town for the weekend, but you live here.”
“Thanks,” she tells me.
We all walk the few short blocks to Century Club, and there’s a wait to get in. “I’ll be right back,” Liv says. She struts to the front of the line and talks with the guy at the door. I see her smile and gesture toward us. The guy shakes his head. She comes back over and tells us the girls are welcome but the guys have to wait.
“Go ahead,” says Ian. “We’ll meet you inside.”
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I don’t want you standing in line on account of us.”
I feel guilty, but we head upstairs. I’m not surprised to find that the place is packed mostly with girls. We head to the bar and grab some drinks. I know I’ll be feeling it in the morning. I lost count of how many margaritas I had at the restaurant. Maybe four? I’ve toned down my partying since college because I like to be in control, but tonight is an exception. We find an empty couch in the corner and grab it. The place has a cool ambiance. It’s very loungy, with a retractable glass roof that opens to the city skyline. We sit for a while, admiring the view, then hit the makeshift dance floor. The DJ is playing high-energy club music. It kind of makes my head throb, so I pound down my drink, thinking it’ll help. The guys finally make it upstairs and join us. Ian starts dancing with me, and he’s got some good moves. Normally I’d be into him, but I know I won’t go home with him if he asks. I probably should. I’ve only slept with three guys: my prom date in high school, the guy in college I dated my sophomore year, then Ben. I really should see what else is out there. I decide to take a break from dancing, and Ian follows me. We’re sitting on the couch, talking, when he asks if he can take me out sometime.
“I’d love to, but I recently broke up with someone, and I’m not ready to date yet.”
He nods and asks, “Was it serious?”
“Yes. We were engaged. Tonight actually would have been my bachelorette party.”
“Well, when you decide you’re ready to date, let me know. I’ll give you my number.”
Pretty bold move, but I don’t want him to feel bad, so I put his number in my phone. Plus you never know—once I decide I’m ready to date, maybe I’ll call him. We stay and dance for a while longer. I look at my watch; it’s 2:00 a.m.
“Should we call it a night?” I ask Liv.
“Up to you. I’ll go whenever you’re ready.”
We gather the group, and I say good-bye to Ian. “Lexi,” he says, kissing my hand, “it was a real pleasure.” I have to say, he’s a standup guy. He could have been a total ass when I said I wouldn’t go out with him.
“See?” says Liv. “There still are good guys out there.”
“I know. I’m just not ready yet.”
Later, as I lie in bed, I can’t help think that it’s not that I’m not ready to date—it’s just that the right person hasn’t asked me yet. I fall asleep, and for once I dream of Jake instead of Ben.
The next morning I wake up with a pounding headache. I go to the kitchen to get some Tylenol and find Jamie fast asleep on the couch. I go back to bed and wake up at eleven. It’s a dreary day, so I’m not very motivated to get up. Eventually the three of us make it out for brunch, and I feel much better after a cup of coffee, a big omelet, and hash browns.
“What should we do today?” Liv asks.
Jamie wants to do some shopping so I suggest we hit up Armitage Avenue, my favorite area in my old neighborhood. This is her first time in Chicago, and Armitage is a great place where you won’t find the same stores that are in every mall in America. Plus she’s having dinner with a friend who lives near there. We step outside the restaurant, and I notice that the temperature has dropped. We start walking to the El when suddenly it starts to pour. Luckily, we’re only a few blocks away from my apartment building. We run back and get changed, then watch a few
90210 reruns until the rain stops. The sun has come back out, so we take the Red Line to Armitage and spend the rest of the afternoon shopping. Finally we drop Jamie off at her friend’s place. I give her a big hug and thank her for making the trip this weekend.
After we see her off, Liv says, “I’m starving, let’s have dinner.” We decide to go to Sushi Maki. It’s one of my favorite restaurants and used to be a neighborhood staple.
We walk in and give the hostess our name. She tells us it’ll be a few minutes for a table. Liv and I are standing at the front, waiting, when Jake walks in.
“Lexi,” he says, “what are you doing in my hood?”
“Hi.” I smile at him. “A friend of mine from New York was in town, so I wanted to show her around. Jake, this is Liv, my roommate. Liv, this is Jake. We work together.”
Liv shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says, playing it cool.
“Are you picking up or eating in?” I ask him.
“Picking up, but I haven’t placed my order yet. They’re usually pretty quick.”
“I know—I used to order from here all the time.”
“You should join us,” Liv says. “I haven’t had the chance to meet any of Lexi’s coworkers yet.”
“It’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, it’s no problem.” Liv turns to the hostess and says, “It’ll be a party of three.”
“Right this way,” she replies, leading us to a table.
“I see you did some shopping,” says Jake, motioning to our bags.
“Yeah, it was my friend’s first time here, so we took her shopping on Armitage. How was your weekend? Anything exciting?”
“Nah, pretty low-key. I went to the gym, hung out with some of the guys. That pretty much sums it up.”
The waitress comes to take our drink order. Jake orders a beer, and Liv and I both tell her we’ll have water.
“No drinks?” Jake asks.