by Isabel Jolie
Anna
Sleep has not been my friend. I bounce back and forth between regretting saying goodbye and regretting ever spending time with Jackson. I should have known having sex on the regular would make me emotional. Tears. Lack of focus. Confusion. On the bright side, I didn’t cave. I decided to end it, and I did. I didn’t let it last for four years and let my family fall in love with Jackson. The only heart broken is mine.
With the big pitch behind us and Thanksgiving in front of us, we don’t have any pressing deadlines. It’s a good thing because my productivity has fallen to an all-time low. My chest aches. Damn heart. When my dad died, my mom said she’d read a research paper claiming the shape of a surviving spouse’s heart sometimes changes in the year or two after their life partner passes. Is this pain my heart shapeshifting? I hope not. My mom died from a heart attack about six months after sharing that little nugget of knowledge with me.
A soft rap sounds outside my office door. “Hey, there. Want some company?” Delilah stands in my office doorway, two steaming Starbucks cups in her hand.
“Oh, you are a goddess.”
“Now, only in exchange for company.” She grins as she hands over my grande.
I point to my sofa. “Sit.” It’s late. I could leave the office now, but I can stay and hang. I have nowhere to rush to. I’ve almost finished packing for my upcoming trip to visit Olivia.
Delilah sits on my sofa and studies me. “You look tired. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I plop down on the sofa beside her then kick my feet up on the coffee table.
“You sure? That doesn’t sound convincing. What’s going on? Have you seen Jackson since you ended things?”
I’d told her I’d ended our arrangement. But I’ll still see him again. We still have our friendship. “We’re still friends. It’s not an end. It’s a transition. Taking some space right now.”
“Uh huh. Space for what? To fall out of love with him?” She beams at me as if she told me it’s a sunny day, and for a moment I consider picking up one of my art books and throwing it at her.
“Girl, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but stop.”
She reaches out and grabs my hand, and her eyes are all doe-like and serious. “You need to give it a chance.”
“That’s not what he wants!” I lower my head. My voice was far louder than I intended. In a more controlled volume, I continue. “It’s not what I want either. There is no giving it a chance.”
Nick taps on the doorframe. I get the sense he’s been listening for a while. Smirking, he strolls in and leans back on the front of my desk to face us. “So, you and your boyfriend part ways?”
Fuck. Cover blown. I should have closed the office door. “Not really. Just working through some things.”
He keeps grinning. “Not what it sounds like to me. Anyway, that’s not why I stopped by.” He hands over the paper he’s holding. “I wanted to give you a creative brief so you can review it with your team. Was thinking we’d schedule the brief for tomorrow?” He directs his attention to Delilah. “Can I break up your girl powwow long enough to go over this with Anna?”
Delilah stands and stretches. “Sure. I’ve got to get out of here, anyway. Yoga class.” She points a finger at me as she walks out. “Tomorrow. Lunch, okay?”
I nod. “Sure thing.” Car service picks me up from the office tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. to drive me to the airport. I cannot wait.
Reading through the brief, I don’t notice any issues. It’s our standard brief based on the existing campaign for some new subway billboard ads.
I place the brief on the sofa beside me. “I don’t see any issues with it.” I hop up, intending to send a quick email to the team. But as I pass Nick, he reaches out, and his large hand grips my wrist to stop me.
“What?”
“I’m here for you if you need someone.”
I snap my hand back and scurry away from him, placing my desk between us. “I’m fine, Nick.” I give him a small smile, wanting to hide how uncomfortable his touch makes me. “You know, it doesn’t make sense to start this project until after Thanksgiving break. Almost everyone on the team is out next week.”
“Where are you gonna be for Thanksgiving?” He plants his fists on my desk and leans forward, across my desk and into my space.
“I’m leaving for Prague tomorrow. I’ll be gone all next week too.”
He squints his beady eyes. “Let’s regroup when you’re back from Prague. It’ll give you time to get over your little boy toy.”
“What?” I grit my teeth and point to the door. “Nick. Just...” I want to tell him to get the fuck out of my office, but he’s a senior executive, and instead I inhale. And exhale. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Chapter 26
Anna
As soon as I land in Prague, I text Olivia to let her know. My low battery alert shows five percent remaining. My charging plug didn’t work overnight. There are times when I wonder if my guardian angel drinks.
Great. I write down Olivia’s address on paper in case my phone dies before I wade through customs and the taxi line. My brain’s too foggy from the red-eye flight. I don’t trust myself to remember much of anything.
Olivia lives in Old Town, a big touristy part of Prague. She said it had been love at first sight. On the first day of looking for furnished rentals with an agent, she found this place. The third place she checked out. She regrets her quick decision. She says the crowds of tourists get old, and she wishes she had found something in New Town, somewhere near the park.
Me: Phone about to die. Be at your place in thirty minutes to an hour depending on customs and traffic.
Olivia: Can’t wait to see you!
Excitement and wanderlust dance across the fringes of my consciousness. Traveling on my own always feeds my soul. Feeds my independence. Sense of life. But the bulk of my being at this particular moment in time craves a pillow and solitude. The line through customs moves quickly, and after collecting my suitcase from baggage claim, I wander out to the taxi line. Multi-lingual signs, with English prominently displayed, guide me throughout the airport, and relief fills me when I tentatively speak in English to the man in charge of the taxi line, and he responds in my native language without missing a beat.
Staring out the window of my taxi, I rub my hand over my face. Random tears stream down my overtired cheeks as the driver navigates through a rundown area. Graffiti mars the sides of the high fences barricading in back yards. There are few pedestrians out and about.
As the cab moves farther away from the airport, the bleak urban scenery of graffiti walls and billboards changes. As we drive farther into Prague, the homes give off a statelier appearance. These homes are also surrounded by walls, but these walls are elegant and well-maintained. Pedestrians are out in greater numbers, walking dogs. Packs of kids roam free. Then we drive over a river, and everything takes on a storybook feel. The medieval style buildings are centuries old. The cab bounces along uneven ancient pavers.
The cab stops at the corner of Kozi Street. The James Dean Diner sits across the street, a red and white 1950s style diner with American icons in black and white. On the other side of the street, there’s a place called Bake Shop. Farther down, there’s a quaint cafe called Nostress with the sign “Best Coffee Since 2001” in the window. Yes, that’ll be my first stop. Tomorrow morning.
All the restaurants and the windows of the apartments above boast window boxes. Greenery spills out. Many feature arranged Christmas tree limbs, some with large glittery balls. As gorgeous as the holiday window boxes are, a part of me wishes I’d come in the summertime. The summer window boxes must overflow with fragrant, colorful flowers, enhancing the European storybook vibe.
I find Olivia’s address on the street and ring the bell, standing back to wait. Olivia opens the gigantic door, takes one look at me, and pulls me into her arms. Like always, a hug at such a weak moment rips me apart, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. My shoulde
rs tremble as I melt into my best friend’s warm embrace.
Within minutes, she leads me into her second-floor apartment. She’s quiet, as if my tears rendered her speechless.
Set in an art nouveau building with soaring high ceilings, her apartment reminds me of the pre-war buildings in New York. The pinewood floors are laid down in a chevron pattern, and the walls, ceiling, and trim are painted a monochromatic white. The furniture, which came with the rental, is a well-thought-out combination of modern and art deco.
I survey the room as I collect my emotions. Enormous windows highlight the kitchen and living area, bringing in light and the sights of Kozi Street. The kitchen is all white with a thick, mammoth white marble island. On one end, four chairs surround the island to create a table. The opposite end of the island features a stove.
Two deep blue velvet sofas and an oval white marble coffee table adorn the living room. Abstract art pops color throughout, but I’m too tired to spend time taking in the art. The place evokes clean and calm. It’s simply gorgeous, Architectural Digest-worthy.
Olivia grabs my hand and leads me down the hall, opening a door into a bedroom with a queen-size bed. The room is so narrow, only about three feet exists between the side of the bed and the wall. One large window overlooks the bed. Stepping closer to the window, the view is of a spacious green area filled with trees and park benches. It appears several buildings open up into this quaint private courtyard.
Olivia yanks on a string, and a shade falls to cover the window and block outside light. “I know you’re exhausted. Lay down. Take a nap. Whenever you wake up, I’ll be outside. I’m working from home today. After you sleep, we’ll talk.” She reaches out and pulls a piece of hair stuck to my cheek away, gently placing it behind my ear. “Yes?”
Tears well up in my overtired eyes again. I collapse on the bed, rolling onto my side into a fetal position. She gathers the pale blue comforter from the end of the bed and bundles me in it. I close my eyes.
Chapter 27
Jackson
The elevator doors open. On reflex, my eyes wander to Anna’s door.
A tall man in scrubs stands outside her door. I watch him. His head is down, and he’s fumbling with keys on a keyring.
“Can I help you?”
He jerks his head up, startled. “Nah, I got it.” He inserts a key into the lock and turns.
“Do you know Anna?”
He pushes the door open then kicks his foot up against it to keep it open. Exhaustion paints his appearance. Slightly bloodshot eyes with dark circles. A five o’clock shadow mars his jaw. I recognize the exhausted appearance, have seen it reflected back at me in the mirror too many times. His pants are splattered with a dark brown substance. Maybe blood? He must have come here straight from the hospital.
“I’m Anna’s brother. Are you her neighbor?”
My muscles relax. Her brother. A resident. I hold out my hand in greeting. “I’m her neighbor, Jackson. I live down the hall.”
With a firm handshake, he says, “Bobby.”
With his back to me as he enters the apartment, he says, “Sorry, man. I just came off a double shift. Just stopping by to grab some of Chewie’s treats.”
I follow him into her apartment. “Is Anna already in Prague?”
He opens up cabinet doors, searching for something, and mumbles, “Yeah. Arrived last night. Or yesterday. Or this morning.” He’s mumbling more to himself than to me.
I huff and slide past him to the tall cabinet in the corner and reach for the snack bin. Chewie’s not in the apartment. A yellow Post-it note with scribbled handwriting reads “Dr. Herriot” with a phone number. Her vet. I place the Post-it on the treats and hand them over.
“Thanks, man.” He twists the bin in his hand, and the treats tumbling around make a low drumming sound. “So, since you are showing me where the treats are, I take it you’ve spent time here. Are you by chance the guy she’s been seeing?”
“Yes.” At least, I’d better be. No, we hadn’t phrased it like that, but we had agreed to be exclusive. If her brother heard about a guy, I sure as hell better be that guy.
“Well, it’s good to meet you. I probably smell, so stand away from me. I’m a resident, and right now I’m on ER rotation. My last shift involved bodily fluids.” He rests his back on the counter to face me. “Should have showered before leaving, but I just wanted to get home.”
“I’m gone over Thanksgiving to visit my family, but if you need help with Chewie before I leave, or when I get back, let me know.”
“Thanks. I have roommates to help out, so it should be okay.” He runs his hand through his hair and blinks as if trying to force his eyes open.
“She’s doing good? Landed safely?”
He squints and pulls out his phone. “I think so. But I don’t have a text from her.” He types a message into his phone. “Look, man, I’ve got to head home. I’m about to fall on my face, and I still have to walk that dog. You seem like a good guy. My sister’s been through a lot. Take care of her, okay?”
He holds the door open, waiting for me to leave so he can lock up.
As he waits for the elevator, I reiterate my offer. “If you need help, I am more than willing to take Chewie. The dog walker already knows to come to this building. Chewie and I run together. It’s not a big deal.”
“Thanks, man. I have two roommates, so between us, we should be okay.” He hesitates. “But here, you know what? Let’s swap numbers in case I need to take you up on your offer. With Thanksgiving coming up, there is definitely a window there where all three of us will be working. Residents always work the holidays.”
As I input my number in his cell, I ask, “When is she coming back again?”
“The Sunday after Thanksgiving.” The elevator door opens, and he holds it. “For the record, I think you’ve been good for her. It’s been a long time since she’s been this happy with someone. It’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone.”
I can’t stop myself from asking, “She told you we’re together?”
He squints. I can’t tell if he’s about to close his eyes to fall asleep or if that’s a confused expression. “Not in so many words. In her own way, she told me. Be good to her.”
The elevator door closes. I stand, staring at my blurry reflection in the door. His words, “Be good to her,” play through my head.
I pull out my phone and send a text.
Me: Did you land safely? How’s Prague? I met Bobby. I told him I’m here to take care of Chu if he needs me to. I’m here for you too. Always.
Chapter 28
Anna
I wake to a dark room. I sit up, stretch, then head out of the room to search for Olivia. I find her sitting with crossed legs, a laptop on her lap, and papers stacked beside her. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“What time is it?”
“Close to six. I wasn’t sure if you’d sleep straight through to the morning, but I kind of guessed you’d wake hungry for dinner. Thought about waking you but decided sleep might be the best thing for you.”
Olivia’s black hair is longer now. She’s cut long bangs across her brow, reminiscent of Amelie or a trendy French girl. She’s always been so put-together and perfect. Our close friendship never really made sense. She’s the epitome of sophistication, whereas I favor a bohemian style. Her opposite.
“Let me brush my teeth and fix myself up so I don’t embarrass you, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”
OLIVIA AND I SIT ACROSS from each other at the John Lennon Pub. It’s not super close to her home, but she picked it so we could venture over the Charles Bridge and through some of the most scenic parts of Prague. Built in 1357, the Charles Bridge is one of the oldest in Prague. Artisans sell paintings, ceramics, and jewelry all along it, and tourists flock to it for views of the Vltava River and the bridge itself. Musicians camp out in different places along the bridge, spaced far enough apart their songs do not blend into cacophony. Exhaustion prevents me from snapping photos, but
I’ll be back before I leave.
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Olivia asks after we’ve ordered and she’s filled me in on how she’s spending her time in her newly adopted city. She came here after her ex cheated on her, but from everything she’s said, she’s moved on. Both physically and emotionally.
Pedestrians pass by on the sidewalk. I stare without reservation as they can’t seem to see into the pub. I sigh. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“Well, first, tell me why the tears. Let’s start there.”
“Jackson.”
She gasps. “Did he cheat on you?” A mixture of disbelief and anger rings through her tone.
I bow my head and focus on the graffiti etched into the wood. “I thought he did. But he didn’t. The whole thing made me realize I can’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“The whole friends with benefits thing. I’m just too emotional about him.”
“Do you love him?”
I stare out the window for a long time before answering. “Yeah, I do.”
Olivia squeezes my hand and sips her beer. Then she excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
Night has fallen, and the streetlamps cast a mystical glow on the crowded tourist street outside. Lights crisscross over an outside patio across the street. The lights dance over a group crowded under heat lamps. The view reminds me of a tented holiday from my past. A festive pavilion with a canopy of lights.
Evan holds my hand and leads me to the front of the tent. He taps his wine glass filled with sparkling grape juice. Neither of us is twenty-one yet. Around a hundred people stand before us. Some are our friends, but most are our parents’ friends. Our parents have been throwing the Annual Hart-Daughtridge Holiday Festivus for as long as I can remember.
I try to pull my hand away and stand with the crowd. Evan grips me tighter and gives me a reprimanding glare. I bow my head. Satisfied I’ll remain by his side, he addresses the crowd.