“Oh. No. I…” Waving my hand, I take a small sip of the white wine. I don’t know what to say. I actually feel a little tongue-tied and that’s not like me at all. If it was the type to be at a loss for words, I wouldn’t do my job very well at all. Ninety-five percent of what I do is talk. And it’s not, I tell myself, because he happens to be good looking. Handsome men don’t make me lose my train of thought. It’s probably a combination of a whole lot of different things. Something like the fact I’m enjoying looking at him in the first place. And something like the fact that...it was so easy for him to tell how I’m feeling. It makes me feel a little barer, a little more transparent than I’d like to feel. I’d felt the same way on the street earlier; it’s one of the reasons I’d ducked in here. “It’s just…” I pause. Then finally finish with, “It’s been a very, very long day. A day I’m glad is almost over.”
Emilio arches an eyebrow again. It’s a quirky little thing and it makes me grin again. “Work troubles?” he questions. Behind the bar, the bartender slides a drink across to Emilio. Whatever it is, it’s on the rocks. Probably bourbon, or maybe a scotch.
“Oh. No.” I hurry to disabuse him of that notion. It’s like I can’t stand even a stranger thinking I don’t like my job because the truth is entirely opposite. I love it. “Work is good. Work is great, actually. I’m one of those rare, lucky people that get to do something I love every day.” I give a small shrug of my shoulders, though that gesture doesn’t mean it’s something I take lightly, or take for granted. “You know, one of those mythical creatures that genuinely get excited to go into the office everyday.”
“That’s a fortunate thing. Not many people can say that. Most people…” His eyes wander away from me, to gloss over the people sitting at the bar, the people sitting at the small tables. “Most people get trapped into a job they don’t enjoy. Just because once you start doing anything it’s so hard to stop, to try to do something different.”
Once you start doing anything it’s so hard to stop, to try to do something different…
His words resonate. Could that be part of my problem with Alexei? Am I still with him because I’m used to being with him? It had been so hard to leave, even though the reason I’m leaving is so important to me. If I stay with Alexei, my whole future will be the thing I don’t want it to be.
Maybe I should have left years ago. At thirty-four, is it already too late for me? I’ve always wanted a big family. I have friends in their forties who are having kids, but my biological clock is definitely ticking…hard.
His sparkling brown eyes come back to mine. I force my thoughts back to the present. I focus on him.
“So,” he says, “do you mind me asking what it is you do that you love so much, mythical creature?”
He leans back as he says it and I can’t help but notice the way his white collared shirt stretches across his chest. It’s not like me at all to notice those things in men anymore, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying the view. And the conversation. I love my job and I never get tired of talking about it, and I know that’s a part of it, but there is more to it too. I’m enjoying talking with him.
“Well.” I set my glass down and swivel in the stool to face him a little better. “Believe it or not, I’m in H.R.”
“You’re in H.R? What is H.R? You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
I can tell by his tone it’s not an abbreviation he’s familiar with. I can also tell that he’s teasing me a little. And I like it.
“Human Resources?” Maybe that will mean more than the abbreviation I’m so used to giving out.
Still, he is giving that kind of confused look. It’s a little adorable, especially on someone who seems so confident. It makes me smile. I can’t believe how much I’ve been smiling in the last few minutes, especially considering there’s a small suitcase tucked under the bar beside me.
“You outsource...humans? Or wait. No. You...use humans as a viable resource?” He’s joking, and I shouldn’t maybe laugh as hard as I do, but I can’t help it. It feels good to laugh. It feels great to laugh tonight, a night I’d spend crying.
“Yes! Exactly right.” I give him a slow-rising, sly grin. “So you do know what I do!”
“Well.”He shrugs. “I know how we do it in Italy. It might be a little different here though!”
He laughs too and his laughter makes me laugh a little more.
I laugh so hard that it actually takes me a few minutes to compose myself. It feels so good to laugh. I actually feel like maybe I’ve had a little more wine than I’d thought I’d had; my mood is literally that...good. When I finally do manage to stop, I try my best to explain to him.
“It’s like this. You can think of it like...Well. You can think of me as...as though I’m a kind of Switzerland. Or maybe like what Switzerland used to be.” I frown a little, trying to think of the simplest way to describe my job. It’s not the first time someone has needed me to make clear exactly what I do. Every scenario is so different there really isn’t one thing I can point to. “It’s my job to act as a liaison between management and the employees. Basically, I try to make sure everyone's needs are being met and everyone is happy. No one gets everything they want, but everything gets most of what they want. Enough to make them happy.”
“I see. You make them happy. And you’re very good at what you do.” He says it like it’s a fact, as though he is completely certain and knows it for sure.
I give him another small smile, curious. “What makes you think so?” I shrug again, and then I admit, “I mean you’re right. I am good at it. I guess it comes easy for me. I like making people happy. Trying to find solutions that work best for everyone. Figuring out the answers to problems. I was sort of that person in my family. You know, the one everyone went to when they needed to complain about the other person.” I give another short laugh. “Always in the middle.”
“We all need that sometimes. Need someone from the outside to look in and see where we can make things better. It’s hard to see something clearly from the inside looking out.” Emilio reaches for his drink and takes a small sip. “Radiah. Forgive me for being too forward. But who makes sure you’re happy?” His lips turn into a small frown. “Whoever it is, they’re not doing a good job of it.”
The question catches me off guard. “Well. I…” I chuckle. Bite at my bottom lip. There’s a little bit of too much truth in those words.
Emilio shrugs. “I’m sorry. It’s just been my experience that the people who are always looking out for everyone else tend to forget their own needs. If someone’s not looking out for them, that is. And you look…” He pauses, as though he’s considering the best way to say it. In the end, it’s the simplest and truest of words. “…Sad.”
I drop my eyes. This is all making me think of Alexei. In his way, he’s always looking out for me; he always has, ever since I’d first met him. But Emilio is right: I don’t have what I need, I don’t have what I want most of all. In some ways, I know it’s not entirely his fault. I knew what I was getting myself into. And, five years ago, I was alright with it. But I’m thirty-four now. I’m changing, and what I want out of life is changing too. Nothing stays the same, least of all people.
“Radiah? Are you alright?”
Nodding, I look up. It’s always been hard for me to hide my feelings. I’m not good with deception. It’s been so hard to lie to my family, to lie to most of my friends, to make up excuses for why Alexei couldn't come to a barbecue in Brooklyn or explain what he did for a living. I’d always say something vague, like commodities. I couldn’t very well have said, well, he’s in the mafia and one of his bosses willed him billions of dollars because, you know, he got his hands dirty for him. “I had a fight with my boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend. And… I walked out.” Ex-boyfriend. It hurts to say it, and that is precisely why I make myself say it. I’m tired of hiding. Tired of hiding from myself.
Emilio’s dark eyes fill with concern. I can see that he wants to say more, and I can see the h
esitation to do it too; I’ve been in that same situation. There’s really not much someone can say about these kinds of situations.
Like I always do, I hurry to put the person I’m talking with at ease. “I guess we just want different things in life. We’ve been together for five years though. And…” My eyes start to water. I fight it off. I smile. Shake my head. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear any of this.” Swiveling on the stool, I reach for another sip of the wine. “I’m sure you’re beginning to regret taking that seat right there.” Everyone has their own problems, even really hot Italian men, and I don’t mean to burden Emilio with mine.
“No.” Emilio’s voice is soft. “Please. Don’t be sorry. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Radiah. But any man that would let you walk away, for any reason at all, well. He is a fool.”
I feel my cheeks warm. Emilio is saying all of the right things. Is he a player? He has the look for it, but there is something so sincere in his eyes it’s hard to believe he’s all talk. Or maybe I just don’t want to believe it.
“That’s sweet to say. I’m not sure it’s true, but it’s nice to hear.”
“It’s just an observation. Of course I realize I’ve known you for oh…” He looks down at his watch. “All of thirty minutes now. But, believe me, you’re making quite an impression.” He clears his throat. From the corner of my eye I see his hand. His fingers are long, almost elegant. But they are strong too. Strong and sure looking. “And… Maybe I feel this way too because I’ve been there. So, I understand, at least a little, what you’re going through. I was engaged, once. I thought we would be together forever.” He looks up at me. His eyes are warm. And his eyes are full of hurt. “She told me after three years together that she never wanted children. That she never wanted to get married. That she just wanted to focus on her career. I can understand that, I can. I just wish she’d told me sooner.”
His voice is so soft. What he is describing is so near to my situation I feel an immediate empathy. “Alexei always said… Well. He never lied to me. Never told me what I wanted to hear. He just…” I shake my head. I give Emilio a small smile. “I thought maybe he’d change his mind. I thought maybe I’d mean more than…” I stop myself. “I guess we can’t make them want what we want.”
“No.” Emilio leans back a little. The light from the lamp catches at his temple. His chest expands with the slow draw of his next breath. “All we can do is find the person that wants the same things we want.” His voice lowers. “If we’re lucky enough.”
The way he enunciates the word we makes it feel like we really do understand each other.
“And what exactly do you want, Emilio?” I’m curious. And I want to know more about him. Listening to him is making me feel calmer. It’s making me feel more like myself again.
Still leaning back in the chair, his smile brightens. His brown eyes darken, and warm. “I want it all. I want a family. My family. I want a smart, beautiful woman and little babies running around. I want to wake up every morning with her in my arms and just as I’m going to kiss her, one of the little ones comes running in and jumps on us. And I laugh. And my wife laughs. We don’t mind. We both know we will have our time later. There is nothing more special in the world than that moment in the morning when we are altogether. That is the family I grew up in. And it’s the family I want now, as an adult. The family I want of my own.”
“That’s such a beautiful dream.” I whisper it. I can almost see it. I love so much that people everywhere, that people from different places, can share so much of the same dream. Can share so much of this same dream. I think it’s because, at the end of the day, what can matter more than family? Than love? It is... It is the same kind of dream I have. It is the same kind of future I so desperately long for. It’s so near to my own heart I feel like he is looking inside of me, like he can see things I haven’t even wanted to fully see in myself. It’s been too painful to have those dreams because, for so long, I’d known the truth. With Alexei, none of those dreams were going to come true. It makes me sad that, unlike myself, and unlike Emilio, Alexei doesn’t know what he’s missing. He hadn’t come from a family like mine, and sometimes I wonder if that’s a part of what’s holding Alexei back. He truly doesn’t understand how beautiful it can be.
“So.” I clear my throat. I desperately need to orientate myself. A part of me feels like I’m floating off in some kind of dream. Thankfully, the sound of the bar, and the way the bartender calls out to someone, all helps to bring me out of my reverie and back to my senses. “Do you mind me asking you what you do, Emilio?”
“No, not at all. Why would I mind? I asked you, remember?”
Why, indeed? It’s just another small way that being with Alexei has colored all of my perceptions. Most people, I remember, have no problem talking about what they do for a living, just like I don’t. It’s not like Alexei, who won’t even talk about where he goes or what he does when he goes to one of his ‘meetings.’
“I am here to help a large real estate firm from Milan open their New York and West Coast branches. Not very exciting I admit but…it has its moments. And it’s an honor they think so highly of me that they offered me this opportunity. And really, it does have his moments. Yesterday afternoon, for example, was very exciting. I closed a deal on an office in L.A. You can imagine the tension, and the drama as we waited to hear their answer...will they take our bid? Won’t they?” His smile widens. “Thrilling, really.”
“You’re funny.” I say it like it’s a serious observation. He really is. Not exactly deadpan, but his half-serious expression mixed with the humor is something very close to it.
And he has a wonderful smile, a genuine, flirty smile that doesn’t have any of the smugness so many men that look as good as he does tend to possess. There’s confidence there, yes. But I actually like confidence. It’s the unadulterated arrogance of some men that turns me off. Emilio walks the line between the two beautifully, and I can’t stop looking at him and enjoying the show.
“And...real estate,” I muse. “What a perfectly acceptable, absolutely wonderful career. It sounds amazing, actually. And very exciting.” I’m sure Emilio doesn’t understand why I’m gushing. But right now, real estate, or really anything that doesn’t involve the mafia and everything that entails sounds amazing to me. Really, he could have told me he did just about anything as long as it didn’t involve breaking the law and guns, and I think I would have been just as excited. I mean, only moments earlier I’d been waxing poetic about the bartender.
“Well.” He laughs. “Thank you.” His expression turns more serious. “I admit, I’m lucky the way you are lucky. It might not be the most exciting job in the world, but I genuinely enjoy my work. I work with a great company and good people and I have done quite well for myself.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” I mean it. I’ve only just met him but I’m really enjoying his company and I’m always happy to hear when people actually like what they do. “I think you very likely deserve every good thing that has come your way.” He’s been a wonderfully delightful distraction, charming and polite and debonair and kind. I finish my drink. The warmth in my cheeks doesn’t seem to go away. “I should go,” I say. I’m not sure I really want to, but sitting here and putting off the inevitable probably isn’t the best idea. “Hail a cab, go to a hotel and take a hot bath. Start over tomorrow.” I have work in the morning after all, as distant as that seems right now. Before meeting Emilio, I wasn’t sure how I was going to face another day, let alone how I was going to face tonight. Now, I feel good again. I feel...hopeful. As I stand, Emilio stands too. He lowers his eyes to my bag. Then, he looks up at me again.
“May I?” he asks.
I nod. The hopeful feeling stirring through my stomach rises a little higher. Is he going to do what I’m hoping he’ll do? Ask me for my number? It’s been so long since I’ve done this kind of thing, so long since I’ve met a handsome stranger. After five years with the same man, this all seems so
new, so foreign. Again, he has made me smile. Is he going for some kind of record? Is he playing some kind of game with himself? ‘How many times can I make Radiah Carlton smile in one night?’ One hour? Five minutes? Maybe he’s some kind of player. I remind myself to enjoy him, to enjoy this, but to be cautious too. He seems utterly genuine. But then again, that’s a true players M.O. The woman never knows she’s just another notch on his belt until she knows. By then, it’s usually much too late to do anything to save her own feelings from being dragged through the mud. As long as it’s been for me, I do remember that much.
“You may,” I tell him. “And thank you.”
Reaching down for my bag, he takes it, shoulders the strap, and he walks beside me to the door. He’s been so courteous, and so polite, that I’m not surprised when he opens it, holding it wide for me to step through. The cool spring night feels brisk after sitting in the bar. The door swings shut behind him and we walk towards the curb. “Would it seem too forward to ask you for your number?” He gives a small smile. “I want to say I’m not coming onto you. And I’m not.” His small smile becomes a little smirk. “Not entirely. The truth is, I don’t know many people in the city yet. No one outside of the office, in fact. And I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Radiah. I’d like to see you again, if you are agreeable to the idea.”
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