by Kelly Myers
I turn and rush back to my office. If I have to be in the same room as him a minute longer, I’m going to explode.
I try to work for the rest of the morning, but my mind keeps wandering. I can’t peel my eyes away from the clock. At long last, it’s almost 12.
He shows up right on time, and we walk outside without a word. It’s windy outside, so I tighten my bright red scarf around my neck as we head down the sidewalk without an aim.
I start listing out potential restaurants like I’m reading internet search results. I know I sound nervous, and I don’t even bother to hide it. With Michael, it’s too late for me to pretend to be anything but myself. He would see right through any act I try to put on.
He shrugs at all my suggestions, so I end up choosing a place that serves sushi to-go. We can just head back to the office and eat our meals there. What I have to say won’t take long.
Once we have our boxes, I suggest we walk along the river on our way back to the office. Now that summer is long gone, it’s a lot less crowded on the big stone steps. In July and August, the steps are filled with people enjoying the sun during lunch, but today the air is far too chilly, and only a few people scuttle by us.
It’s quiet down by the river, despite its proximity to the bustle of downtown. It’s almost private.
The water is grey and ripples under the harsh wind.
“I want to apologize,” I say. “I’m so sorry about what I said the other day.”
I grip my boxed lunch and stare straight ahead. I didn’t write a prepared speech or rehearse. It was too difficult to come up with anything, so I’m just winging it.
“You were not a mistake.” I feel the emotion seeping into my voice. For once, I can’t fight. I can’t argue or point fingers. I can just tell the truth. “You’ve been amazing, and I do feel the connection between us.”
Michael stops short and gapes at me. Whatever he expected out of this lunch, this wasn’t it. His hands are shoved into his coat pockets to protect them from the cold, but he moves as if to pull them out and reach for me. I hold up my own gloved hand first.
“You were right about me,” I say. “I don’t take risks, and I’m not prepared to give up everything I’ve worked for. I’m really sorry.”
I can’t look at his face as I make my declaration, so I stare at a big black button on his coat instead.
“I’m sorry too.” Michael’s voice is low and husky, and I jolt in surprise.
I didn’t expect him to apologize at all, but it feels good to hear the words.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Michael says. “And you were right about everything. Mostly.”
He shrugs and offers me a small smile. It’s nothing compared to his old incandescent grin, but I know I’ll probably never see that again.
A gust of wind ruffles my hair and makes me shiver.
“Alright.” I turn towards the office. “Shall we head back?”
Michael walks by my side, and we remain silent on our return. It’s not an awkward or tense silence. It’s the quiet of two people who have said what they have to say. We have nothing left between us. We’ve been raw and exposed every way we know how.
After a quiet elevator ride, we part ways. I go to my office, and he goes to his.
I don’t know what he does, but I just sit and think for a long time.
This is the last day Michael and I are going to spend a significant amount of time together at the office. I know it’s for the best, but there’s still a dull ache inside me at the thought. I’ll never get to hear his jokes whispered in my ear. He’ll never get that serious look in his eye as he examines one of my plans for an upcoming meeting.
And he’ll certainly never take me in his arms and kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.
I’m going to miss all that.
I’m going to miss him.
I think about what everyone has said to me over the past few weeks. I replay Beatrice’s words of advice about how to get out of a tricky situation. I remember Elena begging me to treat everyone (even Dean) right. And Marianne pushing that maroon dress on me, just to see what might happen. I no longer blame the dress.
They all did their best and spoke from their hearts, but in the end, I had to make my own decisions. I’m the one who has to live with my choices after all.
The trouble is, I can no longer decide which choices were good and which ones were bad.
For so long, I thought sleeping with Michael was a horrible choice, but when I looked up at him by the river just now, I knew I was speaking true. I didn’t regret a single second spent in his arms. It felt too good. If I hadn’t kissed him that night in New York, I might not know what it felt like to be truly cherished.
And dating Dean would have been a good strategy if I hadn’t been so obsessed with Michael. So that exploded in my face of course. It wasn’t Beatrice’s fault for pushing it; she didn’t know how strong my feelings were.
Then of course, I was so riled up about all of that I succumbed to Michael once again. I don’t regret that either. I just regret the fight we had.
I’ve tried to make it better. I know I can’t fully heal the wounds. At least not mine anyway.
It’s difficult, but it feels good to take accountability of everything.
I finally eat my sushi as the clock ticks closer to 1, and the end of the lunch hour.
I consider what my dad said last night about my gut instinct that I never listen to.
If he knew all the details about the wild night of New York and everything that came after, I’m not sure he would say I never listen to my instincts. I clearly sometimes do. I just reigned my instincts back again and again with Michael.
Until I ended up here: eating alone in my office and trying not to weep over the fact that I’m done with another successful assignment.
I check my watch and stand up to throw out my box.
I decide to make another resolution. It’s big and scary, but if I don’t change something about myself, then what was the point of all the pain? In a situation like this, if I don’t learn a lesson, then it was all for nothing.
I walk to my window and stare out at the city.
The next time I meet someone like Michael, I’m not going to be scared. I’m going to take the risk.
I nod my head as I make the decision. It’s a solemn vow, and I’m going to hold myself to it.
It doesn’t make me happy though. Maybe I’m willing to try taking risks, but I’m also still practical.
And so I know in my heart that I might not ever meet someone like Michael again.
25
I meet Elena for coffee on Saturday morning. Marianne is working, and Beatrice is visiting her grandmother in the suburbs. It’s her only family member she keeps in touch with, and we all know that the second Saturday of every month, Beatrice makes her pilgrimage to the nursing home.
Elena shows up with a big smile for me and a novel tucked under her arm. Elena never goes anywhere without a book, just in case.
Elena lives in Lakeview, but there’s a coffeeshop we like that’s right in between our two neighborhoods.
The week has been rough. After Michael and I apologized to each other, we finished up the project, gave our final report to Nick, went out for a drink with the rest of the team, and then that was it. It’s over.
We no longer have any reason to talk to each other. It means I can move on from all this. I should be relieved and healing.
Instead, I’ve been moping, and I can’t hide it from Elena. Even if I tried, she would see right through it. I told them about the argument on the train and the subsequent events. Elena is giving me her textbook Concerned Friend look as we gather our drinks and sit down in a corner.
“How are you?” Elena gets comfortable in her chair and grips her vanilla latte with two hands.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Fine enough. Or I will be fine.”
Elena scoffs and raises one dark eyebrow.
“I don’t wanna talk about Michae
l anymore.” I glare down at the foam leaf atop my own latte. “Surely you’re sick of it too.”
“Honestly, no,” Elena says. “I feel like there’s a lot more to you and him than you’re even telling us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Zoe, you’ve had impulsive passionate moments with him, what, three times now?” Elena leans forward on her elbows. “Once would be understandable. But the Zoe Hamilton I know doesn’t slip up three times with just anybody.”
“So you’re saying I’m not what I used to be?” I cross my arms in defense. “I’m a shell of my former self and I’m lowering my standards.”
“Not at all.” Elena takes a dainty sip of her latte. “I just think that maybe Michael is someone special. Someone who exceeds all your standards.”
I stare at her in shock. Has she been spacing out every time we’ve met up for the past month? Has she just missed all the reasons that Michael and I are a bad idea?
I glance to my left and right in shock. “Elena, I can’t be with him.”
“I know.” She lets out a little sigh. “I was just kinda rooting for him, I guess. Against all reason.”
I don’t expect this from Elena. Marianne is always the one to jump on a crazy idea, and even Beatrice will encourage impulsive behavior every once in a blue moon. Elena is usually calm and practical; she’s like a less-manic version of me.
I shake my head. “Against all reason is right.”
I sigh and take a sip of my drink. I set my mug back down; Elena is staring at me as if she expects me to say more. There is more to say. I can never lie to her.
“I’m sad,” I admit. “Some stupid part of me really, really wanted him. Wanted something serious with him.”
“I don’t think that’s stupid.” Elena’s voice is so soft and gentle that I lean towards her. I want to be ensconced in her comforting glow. I want her to soothe me and make it all better.
I’m not going to have a full break-down in a coffee shop though. I’m not quite at that point.
So I bite the inside of my cheek and lean towards her.
“I’m just going to miss him,” I say. “Which is dumb and masochistic, but I can’t help it.”
Elena lets out a little humming sound in sympathy. She’s the bleeding heart of our group. She’s the kindest, the sweetest, the doting mother hen. I used to mistake that for weakness, but I soon learned that beneath her gentle nature, there’s a will of steel.
“I’ve been thinking about you and the guys you’ve dated.” Elena purses her lips as if trying to figure out how to phrase her thoughts.
“Me too.” The faces of Gary, Phillip and Eric run through my head, all in a blur. I feel nothing about any of them. “I’m trying to figure out what’s been wrong.”
“Why do you think something is wrong?”
I shrug. “Dean was perfect, and I blew that. Every guy I’ve been with, it’s ended, and I’m the common denominator.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Elena pauses, and I can tell there’s more. There’s nothing wrong with me...but there is something.
“What?” I cock my head and give Elena a sardonic look. “Just spit it out.”
“I don’t think you ever really wanted those guys to begin with.”
I nearly choke on my drink at her matter-of-fact tone.
“Elena, I didn’t get into serious relationships with guys I didn’t want, I’m not some girl who just has a boyfriend so she’s not alone, I wanted them.”
Elena is unmoved by my insistence. “You think you wanted them. And you liked how they fit into your life and schedule. You respected their jobs and how they behaved and you liked how they let you take control of things.”
I furrow my brow. “You make me sound like an evil computer, running metrics to decide who to date, and then being a tyrant once I pick someone.”
“Maybe not quite a tyrant.” Elena giggles. “But definitely some sort of queen with dictator-like tendencies.”
“I’ve had a rough week, you’re supposed to be telling me how awesome and amazing I am.” I shake my head, but I can’t get really mad at Elena. Not when I know she’s only trying to help me understand myself.
“You know how amazing you are,” Elena says. “And I think you want to be with someone who is just as amazing as you are, you just don’t go after those guys.”
“Ok, Eric and Phillip weren’t exactly schleps,” I say. “They had good jobs and were totally put-together as people.”
“That’s super romantic.” Elena’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.
I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’m just not a romantic person.”
Elena looks at me like she’s a kid, and I just told her Santa Claus doesn’t exist. She loves romance. She’s got a shelf of romance novels in her apartment, and I know she’s a sucker for any tale in which love conquers all. I admire it. I really do. No matter how many frogs Elena dates, she still believes that one day, one of them will turn into a prince.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Elena says. “If you weren’t a romantic person, you never would have kissed Michael in New York.”
I clamp my lips shut. She has a point.
Elena smiles as I nod to concede her point. She leans back in her chair, and her eyes get a faraway look, as if she’s trying to remember something.
“Do you remember that guy at Marianne’s 25th birthday party?” Elena narrows her eyes as she watches my reaction.
I squirm because I know who she’s talking about, but I’m not willing to admit it. I play coy instead. “There were lots of guys at that party.”
Marianne had a massive bash when she turned 25. She called it her Quarter-Life Crisis Party. She invited pretty much everyone she knew, and between the number of short-term jobs she’s worked, and all the shows she’s been in, that’s a lot of people.
“That guy you were talking to half the night.” Elena gives me a wry look.
His name was Jon. No H. Tall, dark-haired and bold. He approached me, and he insisted on buying me a drink. He was a music producer that Marianne knew. He was artistic and charismatic, but totally not my type. Elena is right though. We did chat half the night. He even invited me home with him, but I said no. It was too bold, too brazen.
“I guess I remember.” I glance down at the table and try to keep my visage casual.
“You never called him,” Elena says. “You never even considered pursuing him afterwards, and I just always wondered why.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” I’m growing uncomfortable with this conversation. Elena is bringing up things I don’t usually think about. She’s pointing out the darker corners of my personality. The parts of myself I might deny.
“You never go after the guys you really want.” Elena speaks with perfect certainty, as if she’s shining a flashlight on those dark corners. “If there’s any sort of risk that you won’t have total control, even if you want the guy, you don’t go after him.”
Elena is not Michael. I can’t run away from her. And she’s not saying these things out of anger. She’s saying them because she cares about me. She wants to help me.
“I like to play it safe,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with playing by some rules.”
“That’s not playing by the rules,” Elena says. “It’s refusing to play the game at all.”
I could argue with Elena all day. I could point out that my life isn’t a game, and I don’t want it to be. I could insist that I don’t always need to be in control. I could try and say that I don’t want Michael, not even a bit.
It’s all useless. There’s no point because she will see through my lies in a second.
A good friend will always support you through all your decisions. A great friend will call you out when you’ve made a mistake. A great friend will act as a mirror to show you who you really are.
Elena is a great friend.
I’m all out of arguments. I deflate against my chair.
“You’re right
,” I whisper. “I’m scared to go after what I want.”
“Not in your career,” Elena points out. “Not in anything except relationships. You just have to bring the determination you have for your job into that area.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not the same thing.”
Elena laughs. “I was trying to help.”
“You are helping.” I reach over and grip her hand. “Seriously, thank you.”
All of a sudden, I feel like crying again. I don’t even care that we’re in public.
“How do you know Michael is special?” I ask.
“What?” Elena furrows her brow in confusion.
“You said he thought he was special,” I say. “How do you know that?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Elena grips her coffee cup as she considers. “It was just something about the way you were reacting about him – you couldn’t talk about him without passion. He just caused such a reaction in you, and then of course you clearly couldn’t keep your hands off him.”
I blush as I think of my past behavior. She’s not wrong.
“Beatrice thinks it’s just lust,” Elena says. “And Marianne thinks that maybe you’re just blowing off steam because you work too hard.”
I’m scared to even breathe as I keep my eyes fixed on Elena. “But you disagree.”
“Maybe I’m just getting carried away.” Elena shrugs, but she doesn’t shy away from her opinion. “But I think you’ve met your match.”
It hits me in a flood then. All the denial of the past few weeks are washed away as I finally see the situation with clarity. Yes, it’s risky. Yes, it compromises my career. But that doesn’t change the truth.
“I could have been happy with Michael,” I say. “I think I’m in love with him.”
Elena’s jaw nearly hits the floor.
“It’s the truth,” I say. “And now I’ve lost him.”
Elena slams her hands down on the table, and her face is illuminated by a massive grin.
“No,” she says. “Now you’ve got to get him back.”
26