by Lara Mondoux
Ryan’s stepmother was a stylish woman in her sixties named Julia. She had a warm air about her, and the day we visited she packed a cooler full of wine and snacks for our afternoon on the boat. Ryan helped Julia and me onto the boat and helped his father push it off the dock. It was probably the first time I’d ever seen Ryan in his element. He’d never mentioned that he loved boating before, but it was easy to see how much pride he took in the hobby he shared with his father.
“Did you grow up here?” I asked him.
“I lived here until I was ten, then my parents split up. But I still love the water.”
“You never mentioned boating before.”
“It’s not often that I get on the old boat.” He nudged his father in the shoulder. His father was shorter than he was, but there was a slight family resemblance despite his father’s white hair and lined skin. He was a handsome man and tremendously friendly, a real salt-of-the-earth type of guy.
“Ryan used to come up every other weekend until he got that big fancy job,” Mr. Adler said proudly. “Now he makes the big bucks, so no more time for old Dad.” He nudged Ryan back. Ryan chuckled a little.
It was a magnificent day on Lake Erie, and the water looked azure from our spot a few miles out from the shore. We cruised along the shore ogling the lakefront mansions, all with docks, private beaches, and boats of their own. I imagined how incredible it would be to wake up and see the lake every morning. If only I weren’t living paycheck-to-paycheck and wasting all of my time behind a desk. Maybe I’d really be able to create something big and afford to buy a lake house of my own one day. Julia poured me some white wine, interrupting my thoughts. I hadn’t asked for it, but apparently I looked as if I needed it.
“So how long have you and Ryan been seeing each other?” she asked.
“Just a couple of months now.” I smiled at her.
“That’s wonderful. I was worried about him for a while.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“That other girl broke his heart. And he worked nonstop to take his mind off it, practically to the point of exhaustion. I’m just glad to see him with someone so sweet. He hasn’t brought anyone to meet us since her.”
Ryan had said his last relationship was almost five years ago; I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seriously dated anyone in all that time. The whole thing must have really shaken him. It made me want to take care of him even more. He deserved to be nurtured and looked after. His heart was so big, and he never complained about anything. Thanks to Ryan, my life had taken on an innocence that I’d once thought was reserved for my parents’ generation. And for that, I wanted nothing more than to look after his heart.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Julia said. It wasn’t a malicious plea, but a sincere one.
“I don’t intend to.”
Come August, Ryan (along with everyone else in Columbus) was in full-throttle Buckeye football mode. While I’d been born and raised in Columbus and was the child of Ohio State alumni and was an alumnus myself, I was never a sports fan. Maybe that was because going to high school sporting events for me would have been social suicide. So while everyone around me had Buckeye fever, I’d always managed to avoid games and never wore any sports paraphernalia (high school aside, sporty attire just wasn’t my style).
Ryan wouldn’t hear of my not supporting his team, though. Since getting together, Buckeye football was the only thing he pressured me about. He wanted me to share his passion for it, and to wear some hideous bright red T-shirt with my alma mater’s logo on it. He’d even bought us second-row seats for the opening game against Marshall, and accordingly he made me watch We Are Marshall the night before. It didn’t bother me, though; I admired his enthusiasm. The morning of our first game together he presented me with a vibrant scarlet T-shirt, which I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at.
“Get over yourself, Coppola! It’s not always about looking good—sometimes it’s about letting go and having fun and supporting your team!”
He was fired up for the game. He was also head-to-toe in Buckeye attire. I could never have imagined Jay dressing that way, which highlighted the differences between them. Jay was like a movie star in the way he dressed, the way he carried himself, and the effect he had on people.
“Fine,” I said.
I removed my silk tank and changed into the T-shirt. Ryan applauded, and as much as I didn’t want to wear the shirt, I was glad to make him happy. After parking we walked about a mile before we actually got to the stadium, and Ryan had the foresight to bring chilled white wine in cups so we could sip while we walked. We even stopped on the side of the road for a slice of pizza about halfway there. I marveled at how uninhibited I could be around him. I don’t think I would have ever had pizza in front of Jay, nor would I have sipped wine from a cup, or worn flip-flops, cutoffs, and a T-shirt.
When we finally reached the stadium and found our section, I was overwhelmed at the sea of scarlet and gray in the stands. Everywhere I looked there were Buckeye fans in their team’s colors. The seating attendant must have noticed the shock on my face because she asked if it was my first time at a game as she showed us to our seats. Ryan laughed and said that I was a Buckeye virgin. Our seats were incredible, and I could follow the game to some extent, though getting the rules down didn’t come easily. The game was a blowout, with the Buckeyes victorious forty-one to three. As we strolled out of the stadium, Ryan’s arm draped around my shoulder, I told him that I genuinely enjoyed the game. His face lit up, which made me dance inside. He was so easy to please, almost childlike in his excitement over certain things.
Late in August, my dreaded twenty-ninth birthday had finally reared its ugly head. I hadn’t made a big deal of it to Ryan because I genuinely wasn’t looking forward to celebrating. I asked him to just keep it low-key, which he agreed to, though if he’d had his way he would have had some fancy dinner in my honor with champagne and all sorts of chilled seafood. I begged him not to make a fuss, and after days of going back and forth he finally agreed to let it go.
One celebration I did allow, however, was lunch with Maureen. Twice every year we actually left the office to eat out (the other time was for her birthday). Over margaritas and nachos at my favorite Mexican restaurant, she gave me a new bottle of Stella McCartney perfume and a homemade card from her daughter, which brought tears to my eyes.
“Any plans with Ryan for your birthday?” she asked.
“No. I told him not to make a big deal of it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m getting old.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well okay, not old old, but old to be unmarried with no kids and in a shitty job.”
“I think things are going to change for you before you know it,” she said with a wink.
Later that evening, I felt a little disappointed that Ryan had respected my wishes and not made a fuss over my birthday. As much as I hated being the center of attention, it was always nice to feel that people in your life cared about your milestones. When flowers arrived, my heart skipped a beat. But when I saw that the card attached was from my parents, I returned to a state of mild regret for insisting that he not make a fuss.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter, though—I was happy to spend the night alone with Luna. Things were mostly going well, and I was striving to adopt Ryan’s habit of not complaining all the time. He shot me a text around eight thirty asking how my night was going, and I was pleased to know that even while he was slammed at the restaurant he was thinking of me on my birthday.
It’s going fine. Just watching TV, not doing anything crazy tonight, I wrote back.
Well, I just realized that your birthday present is in my car. Why don’t you come down here and have a drink so I can give it to you? He suggested.
It was a nice gesture, but now that everyone at work knew we were together, I didn’t like spending too much time at his bar during business hours. It seemed desperate to sit there, waiting for him to get off work, as
though I had nothing better to do. Of course I really didn’t have anything better going on, but not everyone had to know that.
I can wait until Sunday, I said.
Just come down. It’s two minutes away from you. You’re going to love the gift, and I can’t wait to give it to you.
I considered going down to see him. Would it really look that desperate? Chances were that I’d know a few of the people at the bar and would be able to mingle until Ryan got off work. And I had a brand new Pavonine dress from Rowe that I wouldn’t have minded showing off. What was the harm in a little birthday champagne? I’d been lying around in yoga pants and a tank, which was not remotely acceptable for an evening at East Coast Prime. I slipped on my new white dress and a pair of nude pumps. I quickly applied some bronzer and eye makeup and headed downstairs and walked a block to the restaurant, where for a change I used the front entrance of the restaurant instead of the rear.
The bar was jam-packed with people all clamoring to the front to get their glasses refilled. I knew that I wouldn’t have to wait because, after all, my boyfriend ran the place. I spotted him at the very same moment he spotted me. He was obviously busy but dropped everything to come and greet me at the door.
“You look great,” he said. “Is that dress new?”
“It is,” I said, smiling.
“Well it’s gorgeous. Follow me—I put your present in the Board Room since it’s empty tonight.”
“I told you not to use my private dining rooms without my permission,” I said, joking as we walked.
“Well, I think you’ll be pleased when you see what’s in there.” As we rounded the corner of the dining room, where every table was filled, Ryan opened the door to the Board Room. In an instant I heard whispers followed by “Surprise!” I looked around to see Jenna and her husband, Erica and her fiancé, Stacy and Serena with their men, my brother and Kate, Emily and her boyfriend, and even Maureen.
“Oh. My. God.” I said. I’d never been the guest of honor at a surprise party before. It was unbelievable! I felt so flattered. I was covered with hugs and wishes for a happy birthday. “I can’t believe you’re all here!” When I got around to greeting my sister, I whispered, “Whose idea was this?”
“Ryan’s.” Emily raised her eyebrows, obviously impressed with my new beau.
I was handed a glass of champagne and nibbled on shrimp cocktail. The gathering was perfect—not too big but just big enough to make me feel more special than I’d ever felt in my entire life.
Ryan was alternating between operating his busy crowd and coming in and mingling with my friends and family. I could tell he was being Charming Ryan, as my friends laughed and blushed as he spoke to them, and guys shook his hand, thanking him for a great time as he made his rounds. I was smiling and staring at him, and finally he looked up and noticed. He made his way over to me.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I said.
“Are you mad? I know you didn’t want anything big, but this is low-key, right? And I just couldn’t resist. Your sister helped.”
“I’m not mad! This is so amazing—how could I be mad?”
After the party, we went from bar to bar until nearly 2:00 a.m. Ryan crashed at my apartment for the first time, since Woody was at the kennel for the night. It was the best birthday I could remember, and it was all because of him. As he slept, I couldn’t help but stare at his massive chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He was such a different breed of man than I was used to, and I had to wonder how it was possible that I’d found him and that he was available. I felt fortunate beyond measure, and that for the first time fate had intervened in my life.
Once September rolled in, Ryan and I returned to the fruit farm, this time for apples instead of berries. With so many people around for the fall harvest, we weren’t able to recreate the scene of our first tryst. That didn’t matter, though; we still had the memory. We playfully ran through the rows of apples, climbing trees, biting into the giant fruit, and savoring the last few rays of the summer sun. I enjoyed every minute of that summer with Ryan. It was the healthiest and most romantic time of my three-decade-long life.
I was so stuck on that summer that I was practically unaware that fall had crept in and robbed us of those blissful, beautiful nights. Halloween came, and Ryan and I handed out candy to the kids in his neighborhood. It was the first time I’d seen him around children, and it only made me fall a little more in love with him. The leaves had fallen, and it was chilly outside again.
On a whim I invited him to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. He hadn’t met them yet, but he had met Max and Emily. It was a big step to ask him to spend the holiday away from his own family and instead come and spend it with mine. But we’d devoted so much time to one another that I couldn’t imagine not sharing one of my favorite days of the year with him. Plus my mother was driving me crazy, bugging me to bring him over to finally meet her and my father. Ryan obliged, saying he wouldn’t dream of spending the holiday apart from me. He was almost too good to be true, and the tiny bit of pessimism that lingered within me was just waiting for a bomb to drop.
20
Two weeks ahead of Thanksgiving, I found myself imagining the splendor of the holidays with Ryan by my side. The ease with which our relationship had unfolded continued to surprise me. I was practically living at his place, and we hadn’t once grown tired of one another. It seemed as though nothing could destroy my good cheer in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. In addition to the delicious flavors of autumn food, the chill in the air, and my favorite pumpkin spice lattes, I was in love with an amazing man. I was completely preoccupied with Ryan, and everyone I knew picked up on my good mood. At last my time had come to be happy.
At the office, Maureen and I were amped for the holidays and for the pandemonium of another December. In addition to planning hundreds of corporate Christmas dinners, we were responsible for decorating each of the locations. Days before Thanksgiving, we made our annual pilgrimage to buy poinsettias, wreaths, and mistletoe from the nearby holiday pop-up store. As we considered different decorations, I felt a buzzing from inside my purse.
I peeked at the screen, hoping to see a text from Ryan, but what I saw instead made my stomach turn. Bewildered, I was aware of my mouth hanging open. Before me were two words I’d wanted to hear desperately, only they came six months too late.
“Holy shit,” I said.
“What?” Maureen asked.
“Goddamn it.”
“What?”
“I’m in total fucking shock.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you just going to keep shouting profanities?”
“Jay,” I said. “He texted me.”
“Get out! What did he say?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s it, just I’m sorry.”
“He disgusts me. Don’t even write back!”
“I don’t intend to.”
But the unfortunate truth was that seeing his name on my phone made me crave the sound of his voice. I needed to know that it wasn’t me, that it was him. Or rather, my ego needed to know. I needed clarity that some extenuating circumstances had caused his sudden painful deception and departure.
Maureen and I shopped for nearly two hours; I spent the entire time trying to talk about anything but Jay. I thought about him for the entire drive home and tried to compose the perfect reply, should I decide to dignify him with one. By the time I got to Ryan’s, the dogs were as antsy as I was. I didn’t turn on the television or play any music. I just poured myself some wine in Ryan’s kitchen while Luna and Woody scarfed down their kibble.
Did Jay have some sort of radar? Did he know I was happy and think he should swoop in again to cause me more turmoil? And how dare he assume that I even wanted to hear from him? Did he think I was just sitting around and waiting by the phone?
Who is this? I finally replied. Even though I’d deleted his number, I still knew it was Jay from the 917 area code. Before
leaving the holiday store, Maureen made me promise that I wouldn’t write him back. She said I shouldn’t let anything interfere with what I had going on with Ryan, and I agreed with her. She argued that I was finally in a good place, so why rehash something that had cut me so deeply? But I couldn’t help myself; my dark side had to know what was on Jay’s mind.
Elle, it’s Jay. I owe you an apology.
Don’t worry. It’s fine, I said, trying to be cool—my usual game with him. Already I’d denied how I really felt because I cared what he thought of me. It was a dangerous cycle and one that he was in complete control of.
You’re not mad? He asked.
No. It’s been, what, five maybe six months? I’m over it.
Yes. I haven’t been traveling much.
I wasn’t sure how that was relevant as an excuse. Well a little down time never hurt anyone.
I’ll be in Columbus next week, he wrote, and I was hoping you’d see me. I want to talk to you.
I was practically rabid with fury but also strangely excited at the prospect of seeing him. I sat in Ryan’s kitchen, armed with my Shiraz, and took a deep breath, placing my hands over my eyes and rubbing my fingers into them. I probably would have appeared borderline psychotic to anyone seeing me alone in the dark, drinking, tugging on my hair, and biting my nails.
And what do you hope to talk about? I wrote back.
Us. And why things went down that way. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. So how about it? Drinks next week?
I knew Ryan would be closing the restaurant every night and that I could get away with seeing Jay and finally gain some closure, all while not hurting Ryan. What he didn’t know wouldn’t harm him.