Come Undone (4 page)

“She’s
all yours,” George called over her barking. As I took the leash, she jumped up
to lick my face, and then excitedly sniffed my shoes, working her way up to my
crotch.

“All
right girl, that’s enough,” I said, laughing as I pushed her snout away.

I
mustered all the enthusiasm I had and ran her down to Lakefront Trail while
fending off her overzealous attempts to french my face. Once we hit the path,
we slowed to a walk, and I kept her close as we passed laughing children,
zooming cyclists and fellow dogs. When she’d calmed down a bit, we sat to
people watch. She excitedly wagged her tail at everyone who looked our way.

“Hey,
Liv right?” I heard.

“Hi,”
I said, trying to place the man standing over me.

“Rick,
from the ballet.”

“Oh,
of course, Rick,” I said, recognizing him as Gretchen’s would-be suitor. “What
are you up to?”

“Just
finishing up a run. Is this your dog?”

“No,
no, she’s from the shelter, we’re just getting her some fresh air.”

“Oh.
So you volunteer there then?”

“You
got it.”

“Well,
she’s a cutie.”

“She
is, but she has a lot of energy,” I said, waving my hand for emphasis. Just
then, Eureka stood up and sniffed Rick’s leg. She sat back and watched him,
panting and waiting patiently for him to pet her.

“You
know, I had a Pit Bull growing up. I think she might be half,” he commented,
examining her. “How old is she?”

“She’s
only a year. She should calm down soon, she just has that puppy energy right
now.” I watched him stroke her fur and murmur softly. “She also has all her
shots,” I added, arching an eyebrow at him.

He
looked up and smiled. “I know what you’re getting at. To tell you the truth,
getting a dog has crossed my mind, I just worry that I don’t have the time.”

“I
can put you in touch with dog walkers, a lot of city dwellers use them. And on
the weekends you’d have a running partner.”

He
crouched down then and took her face in his hands, rubbing her head. “What’s
her name?”

“Eureka.”

“Eureka!
That’s great,” he said, laughing. “She is most definitely an Eureka. Well Liv,
I’ll give it some thought.”

“That
would be great,” I said. “But really think about it. It’s best for everyone if
you’re sure.”

“I
understand. Where can I find her?”

“Here,
give me your information,” I said, handing him my cell phone. “I’ll text you
the info. One thing though . . . Eureka has been at the shelter for a few weeks
now, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll be around.”

“That’s
a good thing right?”

“No,”
I said, shaking my head slowly.

“Oh,”
he said, running his hand over his chin. “Shit.”

“I
know. I’m sorry, no pressure.”

“Eureka,
huh,” he said, patting her head.

“You’re
single, right?” I asked.

“Yes,
in fact I took Gretchen out last week. She’s great, very independent though. So
independent that I can’t get her to return my phone calls.”

“She
is,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

He
waved me off. “Well it was nice talking to you. Text me that info tonight if
you can.”

“Will
do. Nice to see you, Rick.”

I
stood and watched him run off, clasping my hands in hopes that he would come
through. Sometimes things were just meant to be, and Rick hitting on Gretchen
at the ballet seemed like one of those things. When I looked down, Eureka had
wound herself between my legs, ensnaring me in a certified leash trap.

“What
are you doing?” I sang, trying to detangle myself. Just then, a small dog
across the way started barking and Eureka bolted for her, knocking me on my
back. “Eureka!” I screamed, restraining her with every ounce of muscle I had,
which apparently, was just enough.

“Whoa,
whoa, whoa!” I heard a man’s voice call as he ran over and rounded her up. “Now
there’s an expression I haven’t heard in quite some time,” he said, bending
over me. Bleached blond locks hung from his handsome, tanned face.

“I’m
sorry?”

“Eureka.”

“Oh.”
I grinned, taking his outstretched hands and noting how his toned arms flexed
from his cut-off tank as he pulled me up. “No, that’s her name.”

“Ah,
of course, that makes more sense,” he said with a friendly smile. “Are you all
right?”

“I
am, just a little embarrassed, thanks.”

“Don’t
be, it was a very graceful fall, all things considered.” I blushed and shook my
head, noticing his furtive glance at my left hand. “Well, I should take off
before I lose my heart rate. Try to be more careful, Eureka!” he called as he
ran off.

“We’d
better get you back before you kill me or someone else,” I told the dog. We ran
all the way back to the shelter, where I gathered her information to send to
Rick.

CHAPTER
3

I WAVED TO GRETCHEN
as I exited the building. “Hello, spring!” she called.

“Not quite,” I said, crossing my arms into myself.

“Where’s Lucy? Is she meeting us here?”

“She said she had to run an errand and would meet us at the
restaurant.” I shrugged.

 
“Come on.” She
squeezed her hand through the crook of my arm. “It’s Monday, and it’s happy
hour. Let’s get toasty.”

We made our way down the street, and it reminded me of my first
year in Chicago. The three of us would meet at our apartment after work, change
quickly and end up staying out until the early hours of the morning without
even realizing it. It was a time when responsibility was just another word in
the dictionary. Where had the time gone? Things were different now, there was
no doubt. But something in particular felt amiss. With the onset of the new
season, I had that ominous feeling of impending change, although I couldn’t
identify what or why that might be.

The man from the theater’s presence was static cling on my skin. I
still could not recall the exact details of his face, or even the way he was
dressed. But those eyes, that warmth, that inexplicable feeling. They were the
things I couldn’t seem to shake. Had he felt it too? And what had he seen in my
eyes?

“Dirty martini,” Gretchen’s voice cut into my thoughts.

      
“And
for you?” the bartender asked. “Wait, let me guess . . . Pomegranate margarita,
on the rocks, no salt.”

      
“What
makes you say that?” I asked with a small smile. Gretchen and I had encountered
a flirtatious bartender or two in our time.

      
“Pretty
girls always want pomegranate.”

      
Gretchen’s
huff did not go unnoticed by either of us. I leaned off the bar, suddenly
embarrassed by his forwardness. “I’ll have a Guinness.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and
nodded.

“And make mine extra dirty,” Gretchen hissed. I stifled a laugh
and went to find a table.

“John has a new girlfriend,” Gretchen divulged once we had our
drinks. I rolled my eyes and pressed her for more information. “Don’t be
jealous,” she prefaced, referring to the playful crush her brother had harbored
for me since we were kids. “She’s the new receptionist at his office so it’s
totally under-wraps. John’s typical type: blonde, young and one crayon short of
a box.”

“Why?” I laughed loudly. “John is so sweet and obviously a total
catch . . . . How come he gets hung up on these bimbos?”

“I’m sure a short therapy session would reveal that it’s got a
little something to do with the divorce. When my mom left, he never really
forgave her for it. If your parents - ”

“Cheers!” I cut her off, raising my glass. “It’s happy hour,
Gretch, not depressed wallowing hour.”

“Oh,” she said, grabbing her drink. “Cheers!”

I welcomed the bitter alcohol as it slid down my throat.

      
“By
the way . . . Guinness?” she asked. “Never once, since we started drinking in
high school, have I seen you drink that.”

      
I
shrugged. “I panicked. I was going to order pomegranate.”

      
Between
laughs, she pointed at the table. “Your phone.”

Apr 2, 2012 6:17 PM

Where are you?

The curtness of Bill’s text message wasn’t lost on me. I told him
Lucy had called a last minute happy hour.

Apr
2, 2012 6:21 PM

Didn’t
we just see them?

Quickly, I tapped out a response.

Apr
2, 2012 6:22 PM

She
said it’s 911. Won’t be long.

I looked up to find Gretchen also expertly navigating her
smartphone.

“Where is that girl?” I asked. “She’s usually the early one.” As
if on cue, Lucy appeared through the doorway. She spotted us right away and
rushed over, almost breaking into a run. When she reached the high top, she
took a deep breath, sat down calmly and grabbed the plastic happy hour menu
from the table. Her face turned many shades of red as she sat unmoving, letting
us gawk at her.

“What is it?” I pressed. Lucy held the menu up to her face,
wiggled her left hand and then peered at us with smiling eyes. My mouth dropped.
“Andrew proposed?” I asked, staring at the conspicuous ring.

“Yes. Yes! Last night!” Lucy squealed.

“What?” we exclaimed in unison.

“You’ve withheld this all day?” Gretchen was indignant.

“Well I wasn’t going to tell you over the phone!”

“How did it happen?” Gretchen demanded.

“So Sunday is our day, right? He was acting strange all afternoon,
and then he asked if I wanted to go see a movie. Normally we stay in on Sundays,
but he said he really wanted to see some action movie that everyone had been
talking about at work. I said no, but he promised to take me for ice cream
afterward, so I agreed.

“Well, we go out of the way to this small theater in Lincoln
Square, that’s totally not our regular place, and when we arrive, he waltzes
right in without paying or anything. I’m like, ‘Andrew,
what
is going on?’ but he won’t tell me. We enter an empty theater
where there’s an attendant holding a tray of two bubbling champagne flutes.
Instantly, the screen lights up, and I recognize the first bars of “Moon River.”
It is, of course,
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
,
my favorite movie. We take the drinks and follow the man to the middle of the
theater. There, resting on my seat, is that famous little blue bag. Of course,
I begin to cry right away. Andrew pulls out the box, tells me how much he loves
me, and asks me to marry him.”

“Wow,” Gretchen said, grinning from ear to ear.

“That is amazing,” I agreed. It was a Lucy-tailored proposal, and
I found comfort in the fact that Andrew knew her so well. Gretchen and I
prattled accordingly, gushing over the ring: three oval cut diamonds, centered
on a smooth platinum band.

I was hit with a fleeting pang of envy; not over the ring or
Andrew’s elaborate proposal, but because he’d planned it just for her. Bill’s
proposal had been sincere, like everything else he did for me, but we’d had an
audience. All of my friends and family looked on as he bent on one knee, and
all I remembered thinking was that he needed new pants, that they were too
short. Everyone was looking, watching my every move, waiting for me to say that
one magical word.

I glanced down at my own gold and diamond solitaire stone, an
heirloom that he had inherited from his grandmother. It was so thoughtful, that
I hadn’t had the heart to tell Bill it wasn’t my taste.

For the next hour, we passed the news around like a hot potato,
jumping from detail to detail. Lucy straightened her back as she envisioned out
loud the wedding of her dreams.

“And of course there is the matter of the bridal party,” she said,
pursing her lips. Gretchen and I broke into large smiles and nodded our heads
in anticipation of the question.

“Gretchen Harper, Olivia Germaine,” she started. “Please do me the
honor of being the bridesmaids in my wedding! I’ve asked my sister to be the
maid of honor, and that’s it. My three girls.” We agreed immediately, having
discussed this moment many times before. “I can’t
believe
you never took Bill’s last name,” Lucy added. “I can’t
wait! Lucille Marie Greene.”