by Brynn North
“Thought you might need some of the things you left behind. Shoes, some clothes, that type of thing.”
“Can you put it back in your car?”
Vi was suddenly right behind me.
“What the heck, Vi? You take a class on apparition or something? You scared the hell out of me,” I yelped.
“What do you mean, put it back in my car?” she demanded.
Clearly, Vi was not going to wait for me to pour a glass of wine and change into pants with an elastic waistband.
“It means you better clear all the food wrappers off your front seat and be prepared to let me handle the Spotify playlist, because I’m heading back to Minneapolis with you tomorrow, and I’m not listening to true crime podcasts for six hours straight.”
“Yessssss!" she screamed. “I’m so excited. Tell me everything.” She paused. “But, uh, can we still use the Girl and the Goat reservation before we leave?”
33
A tall man entered the Caribou Coffee where Vi and I were sitting by the fire, warming ourselves with hot chocolate. “Hey, Randy, thanks for meeting us.”
“Of course. I made appointments at all the places you sent me and added a few of my own. Do you two want to ride with me, or follow?”
“Follow,” Vi said immediately before I could answer. “That way Kat and I can gossip about the places between showings without you listening in.”
“That works,” Randy laughed. “Let’s head over to the first place. Looks like a great day to house hunt.”
My escape from Chicago with Vi was a few weeks ago, and though she swore it was her pleasure to have me live with her for as long as I needed, I wanted my own space. My parents had even insisted on pitching in with the money they had been saving up for me, thinking there might be a wedding on the horizon.
“Spending it on a house is better than a wedding anyway,” Dad had assured me. “Lasts a lot longer, and when the time comes, we can throw you a wedding at Love’s Retreat.”
“Don’t count on that,” I warned him. “I’m not getting married anytime soon.”
But between their help with the down payment and my new job Kiara had helped me find at a publication company in St. Paul, I could afford to buy my own place, which was a goal that would have been unobtainable in Chicago’s crazy real estate market. Last week, Vi had called up one of her real estate buddies, and the next thing I knew, we had appointments to look at places all around the city.
“Is this what it feels like to be a grown-up?” I asked her as she weaved through traffic pulling up against a row of small, cute houses.
“Kinda, only after you buy the house, you get the bills that come along with it. That’ll make you feel grown up in a hurry. In a bad way.”
For the rest of the morning and into part of the afternoon, I followed Randy and Vi around various houses and condos in the city. I was a little unsure of what I wanted but figured I’d know when I saw it. The only three requirements I had were two levels, close to Vi, and somewhere with minimal yard work and snow shoveling. Finally, after touring ten different places, we collapsed into a booth at a quirky diner-slash-bar in a trendy neighborhood.
“What are your favorites so far?” Randy asked as the waiter placed our drinks in front of us. I considered the question, playing with the little toy action figures on the table while I thought.
“My favorites so far were the brick house in the neighborhood with a grocery store and Starbucks or the two-story condo by Vi. But I’m not sure either really spoke to me.”
Randy checked his phone. “I got notice of a pocket listing this morning but didn’t want to tell you about it yet, as I wasn’t positive if it’d go on the market. Just got a note from the agent. We can see it right now if we want.”
I started protesting. “I’m not sure I can take looking at more places. Let’s just go see the brick one again.” But Randy was already showing me some pictures of the townhouse the other agent sent him.
“Lame,” I said. It was bland, with old-fashioned furniture in it and cream walls. I could already tell the countertop needed to be replaced. “Not worth it.”
But Vi was already grabbing the phone. “Kat, this is great! Get your head out of your ass. We’re going to go see it. You know what I could do with this place with the high ceilings and open layout?”
“And it's a walkable distance to Vi’s,” Randy pointed out. “Oh, and here’s the price they are thinking about.”
My eyes popped when I saw the number. If I got close to it, I’d be well under my desired price point, and might even be able to afford some nice decorations once I got used to my new paychecks.
Vi saw my reaction. “We’d put the rest of the money into decorating and updating things a little. I happen to know a decorator who works for the low, low price of wine and gourmet popcorn.”
An hour later, I was shaking Randy’s hand. They were right. The townhouse, though in need of some updates, was perfect for the price and location. “Get this place for me,” I ordered with a smile. He promised to send over my offer that very afternoon.
“I’m glad that’s over.” I flopped onto Vi’s couch later that evening.
“You don’t have it yet,” she said. “Don’t get too excited.”
“Whatever. Look at you, already mocking up designs on your iPad. I saw you texted Randy for measurements, too. You want me to get it as much as I do!”
“True.” She twisted the iPad in my direction so I could see her ideas in some fancy 3D decorating app she used for her clients. “But I need a total remodel to add to my portfolio. So it’s not totally an unselfish move.”
I snatched the iPad from her. “I’m never going to want to leave if you can make it look like this!”
Vi’s ideas included soft ivory walls with gray beams on the ceilings. A cream upholstered couch centered the room, and a white-flowered tree was in the corner. In the middle was a soft gray rug. It looked like something out of a luxury magazine.
“And over here, we’ll make you an office nook,” she said, pointing to the corner.
“Love it. That’ll come in handy for my freelancing.”
Vi’s eyes shifted toward me. I knew what she would say before the words came out.
“No, I haven’t,” I said, shoving the iPad back to her.
She shut the case and put it on the table, indicating the conversation was far from over. “But why haven’t you contacted him? You’ve been back in town for weeks. And he knows it.”
“Because it’s not about him this time around. I spent too much time pining for a man and making a disaster out of myself while doing it. Not making that mistake again,” I said stubbornly. “This time, I’m doing everything for me.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you get in your own way sometimes?”
“What do you mean by that?” I accused, reaching for one of her designer magazines to see if I could find any good inspiration for my new bedroom. I stopped at a gorgeous one done up in teal and wondered if Vi could replicate it.
She snatched the magazine back out of my hands when she saw me. “Way too bright. You need a soft, soothing color to promote sleep. Teal isn’t it. Look at this one instead,” she ordered, handing me a different book to look at. “But what I mean is, you’re so determined to make things go your way sometimes, you don’t let things unfold naturally. You tried to force yourself to be better for Shane, instead of accepting the relationship ran its course and wasn’t good for you any longer. Now you’re so determined to prove to Boston that he isn’t your second choice, you won’t let him be any choice. You think it’s safer to stay alone, don’t you?”
I stared at her, forgetting about the book full of gorgeous bedrooms in my lap. Was she right?
“Of course I’m right,” she answered my question, though I hadn’t said a word out loud.
“But Boston hasn’t contacted me either,” I pointed out.
“But he’s contacted me,” she said. “I’m his sister. Trust me. I know when he’s sniffing around
to get information. He’s not exactly Captain Subtle.”
“I never did figure out how he felt about the infertility thing,” I said quietly, flipping through the design book again, this without even looking at the pictures.
She looked at me sternly. “And you never will if you don’t put yourself out there and talk to him. Do you know anything about his desires around children except for his one offhand remark? Do you know if he is open to adoption, or even wants kids at all? Or are you still scared after what Shane did to you that you don’t even want to find out the answer to that question from a man who could be perfect for you? Because you can’t hide in the closet for the rest of your life. Everyone you ever meet will have something going on with them that isn’t perfect. Evvvveryone.”
“So what do I do now?” I paused at a picture of a bedroom, done in a soft blue with white bedding.
“Oh, I like that one,” she said, grabbing a Post-It note to mark the page. “Not as much as you like Boston though. So now? You find a way to show him that you done fucked up and are ready to fix it.”
34
I thought about everything Vi said for a long week. I knew I had to reach out to Boston, but didn’t know how to start or what to say. I just knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.
Vi, to her credit, stayed out of my way as I stomped around the house in deep thought all week, barely talking. The only day I got out of my funk was when Randy called, telling me the seller had accepted my offer.
“Congrats, Kat! You’re officially a resident of Minneapolis once again!”
I squealed my delight. In only six short weeks, I would be an official owner of an ugly townhouse in a great location. Vi already made me promise to stay with her for an extra month so we could do some renovation and decorating before I moved in.
“First thing we will do is rip that horrible countertop right off, and put in some proper quartz or granite,” she vowed, right before taking me on a full weekend of looking at paints, furniture, and new finishings. I warned Vi that my budget screamed IKEA more than it did Restoration Hardware, but she promised to supplement as much as possible with samples and decor her clients were getting rid of.
“I always have connections, Kitty Kat.” She gave an exaggerated flick of her curly hair.
Her use of Boston’s nickname for me slammed me right back into reality. I was still too nervous to approach him after the way we left things, not to mention the time I let drag on without apologizing. To make matters worse, I had to send him my last article for ‘Love, Redefined’ by Sunday night if he was going to have time to edit it, and even that was cutting it close for him.
I was still wrestling with the idea days later when it hit me. I still didn’t have an idea for my sixth article, and I didn’t have an idea of how to reach out to him without messing things up even worse.
I could send him a message in my last article to him, one that only he would understand. But how?
I excitedly got up and started pacing around the room, figuring that I may as well get some extra steps in if I couldn't sleep. I racked my brain, wondering if I could reference something about a conversation we had, or a place we went together, but nothing seemed right. Glancing around, my eyes hit a book on my corner stand. My favorite book. Boston’s favorite book.
Don Quixote.
I could sneak a quote from Don Quixote! Something only he and I would understand but would make sense to the readers too, as friendly advice.
I nearly twisted my ankle as I threw open my bedroom door.
“What in the hell?” Vi looked up from her iMac, where she was designing a new covered porch for a client.
“I got it!” I crowed, unplugging my laptop from the charger near the kitchen table before racing back to bed.
“Well, whatever you got, it appears on fire,” she yelled back after me.
I sat up in bed, the words pouring right out of my heart and onto the document. For the first time since starting Love, Redefined, I knew exactly what I wanted to say, right away. I wanted to write about being open to what life has to offer, rather than trying to force things that aren’t meant to be just because they were familiar to you.
As my fingers flew over the keyboard, I cautioned my readers against changing themselves for any reason, including and especially for a man. I wrote about how they need to learn to forgive themselves when they inevitably make mistakes because all mistakes are an opportunity for growth and better future behaviors. I apologized to my readers for trying too hard at first, telling them that this was a learning opportunity for me too, and encouraged everyone to be authentic to themselves and their needs. Most of all, I warned everyone not to fall into a trap of other people’s uninvited expectations. And at the end, I wrote a postscript.
P.S. - This is the last Love, Redefined article, but I hope you will join me on my next journey, starting in two months, where I’ll share a monthly series exploring Finding Inner Happiness through going on local adventures!
Over the last six months, I’ve learned so much about love, relationships, and well, Love (meaning me, this time!). I’ve learned we can start again, and that’s okay. I’ve learned we can mourn our vision of the past, yet be excited about the future. I’ve even learned how to do aerial yoga!
However, above all, take a lesson from my favorite book, Don Quixote when Sancho says, “Honesty is the best policy; I will stick to that. The good shall have my hand and heart; but the bad neither foot nor friendship.”
Be honest in your relationships. Be honest in your interactions. Know when to move on after a situation no longer serves you and go after what you deeply want. I believe in all of you.
With trembling fingers, I punched in Boston’s email address and hit send.
35
“What’s his deal?” Vi demanded, after the seventh day passed, and Boston hadn’t responded to my article in any way.
“Hell if I know,” I said, discouraged. Seven days was approximately six days and 23 hours too long to wait for a response, in my opinion. The only sign I had that he’d even received it was the note Kiara had sent me, saying she loved the last article and looked forward to more collaborations in the future.
“When is it supposed to come out?” she asked as I flicked through what seemed like an endless pile of fabrics she kept insisting I look through. Even though I wasn’t closing on my new place for another month, Vi was in full decorating force, insisting that things took time to get right. Already today we had spent three hours at different stores, and all the pictures and fabrics were starting to blur together.
“It posts online in about an hour,” I said, checking my watch, taking note that there certainly were no unread text messages from anyone, including Boston. “Then in print next week when the issues get sent out.”
“Damn, I’m sorry. I feel partly responsible for all this. I gave you the advice, and he’s my brother and all.” Vi truly looked resourceful.
“Don’t worry,” I said glumly. “It would have never happened if I didn’t mess things up so badly.”
“True,” she agreed, a little too fast for my liking. “But at least you got a life lesson out of the deal.”
“Some consolation,” I grumbled as she held up two curtain swatches, one pale ivory and the other a luxurious sky blue for my review. “The right one.”
“That was my favorite too.” She tossed aside the ivory swatch. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Avoid him forever?” I suggested. “I mean, I hadn’t seen him in years before this, so it can’t be that hard.”
“Yeah, but that’s when you lived halfway across the country,” she pointed out unhelpfully. “Now you guys will live in the same neighborhood. And share a best friend. You’re bound to run into him grabbing a burger in the neighborhood or something.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” I snatched up a throw pillow with a rabbit on it. Vi nodded approvingly. “I guess since my house will be so tastefully decorated, I’ll not mind never leaving it, and just g
et food delivered every day.”
Vi thankfully dropped the subject for the rest of the shopping trip, which ended in me pulling my credit card out for a painful amount of money.
“Don’t worry, the rest will be repurposed from my other projects,” she promised. “Want to grab dinner?”
“Okay, but somewhere cheap,” I said, thinking of what my credit card statement would be next month.
“My treat. Your choice.”
I grinned. “Anywhere?”
Vi gave me a side-eye. “No. Not the awful taco truck you love so much. I refuse.”
“Fine,” I relented, knowing that would be an argument I’d never win. “Lobster rolls?”
She considered this for a second.
“You saaaaaid my choice…and you already shot down my most faaaaaavorite place in the city,” I said in a singsong voice.
“Fine,” she relented, even though I knew she was hoping for sushi. “But I want to go home and change first. We can walk there.”
“Deal.”
On the drive home, I kept refreshing my phone to see when the article would be posted, desperate to see what kind of edits he made. Usually, it posted every Thursday evening by seven but Vi pulled up to her townhouse at 7:01 and the article still wasn’t online.
What in the hell is going on? I thought as we walked toward her front door. Just then, I saw the most massive, gorgeous bouquet of white roses in a beautiful round container.
Oh-em-gee, that must have cost over a hundred bucks, was my first thought right as Vi exclaimed, “Le Fleur! Who ordered these? They’re expensive as hell. I dream of having my own arrangement.”
“Look for a card,” I demanded.
She dug through. “No card, but there’s this…”
Stuck in the flowers was a torn out copy of my article, Love, Redefined. And attached to that was a Post-it.
Look behind you, Kitty Kat. Following the words, there was a crudely drawn picture of a cat and a heart. I whipped around, and suddenly there was Boston. My heart rose up and through my chest.