Sometime Soon (19 page)

I can’t help but give the
reappearance of his good humor an answering grin. “I know it’s a stereotype,
but the blonde seems like an airhead to me. I think he’ll choose someone more
on his level, like maybe the red head,” I answer.

The right side of Rob’s mouth
hitches up sardonically. “You’ve got a lot to learn about men, Andrea.”

I review my answer and realize that
I can’t argue my point with much conviction.

Nate is at his desk when I return.
Immediately, I feel guilty. I’m not supposed to say anything, but do I owe Nate
a heads up, I wonder? What will he think? Maybe he’ll be pleased to know that
our group remains a part of the overall company plan. Then again, maybe he’ll
just resent me. I greet him and boot up my laptop, feeling too keyed up to concentrate
on work.

I could email Bryn and request an
impromptu Starbucks meeting, I think, watching my laptop screen come to life.
That’s what I would have done before the whole Bryn confession upset, and I do
want to speak to her about Katie and Mike, but maybe not today.

I still have a phone call to return
to Ryan. Lauren and Jonathan have convinced me to give him another chance. But
it didn’t take much convincing. Also, I figure if he’s really thoughtless and
unreliable those qualities will show up again soon enough. I also have a less
than exciting job interview this week that I need to prepare for. There are so
many pending items in my life, none of which I can make any progress on right
now. Suddenly, sitting within my cubicle walls makes me feel claustrophobic. I
grab my purse and decide to go for a walk. I feel Nate eyeing me as I leave
without a word.

Out on the sidewalk, standing in
the warm morning sunshine, I feel my heartbeat slow to normal. I pull out my
cell phone and call Mom to give her the news of my new title and the bad news
of my stagnant paycheck. She’s thrilled as she always is when anyone recognizes
how wonderful her progeny is. The fact that the world does not do so on a daily
basis always surprises her. Her advice to me is to see the new job through and
to not jump so fast to a new company. Since I hate change, I’m inclined to
agree.

 Next, I dial Ryan’s number.
I’m nervous to speak to him, and I suddenly want to get it over with. I know
that I won’t be able to simply pretend that he hadn’t blown me off last week,
but I’m not sure how to bring it up without sounding pathetic.

He answers on the third ring
sounding very business-like.

“Hi. It’s Andrea,” I begin
casually.

“Hey, Andrea. How’s it going?” He
sounds pleased to hear from me.

“Good. You?”

“Good,” he answers. “How was your
weekend?”

“It was a pretty busy weekend
actually. I saw some friends and went to a family barbecue.” The subtext here
being that my life is busy, and I’m not waiting around for you to call me. “How
about you?”

“I drove Wes home. He starts school
this week.”

“You’ve lost your slave labor
then?”

He laughs. “I’m afraid so.”

“Did you tell your dad about his,
um, continued problems?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t easy though. Now
it’s up to him to handle things. I gave him my opinion about Wes seeing a
therapist. I think he may finally be coming around on that point.”

“That’s good. Wes seems like a nice
kid. I hope it turns out okay.”

“Yeah. Me, too. So, do you think
you’re up for grabbing some dinner with me one night this week?”

“Well,” I hesitate. Then I take a
breath and plunge forward. “You gave me the impression we had plans for last
Thursday. When Thursday came and went and I never heard from you, I was a
little confused.”

I hear a noise from the other end,
like a breath being exhaled into the receiver. “I remember mentioning the
possibility of getting together last week, but we never planned anything
definite, did we?”

“I was under the impression that
Thursday was fairly definite. The exact plans weren’t ironed out yet. You said
you’d call about those. But the day was set.”

 “Well, I really don’t
remember that. I got called away on business at the last minute and the whole
week got pretty hectic. If I forgot a date with you, I’m sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter. It was an
apology without a confirmation of guilt.

“You’re pissed, huh?” he asks, but
he sounds amused rather than bothered.

“Pissed might be a little extreme.”
There is no way I’m going to let him know he matters enough to illicit an
emotion as strong as pissed. “More like, skeptical of any future plans we may
attempt to make.”

“Ah, I see. I have to earn your
trust back. I can do that. Will I get the chance?”

I find myself smiling at the phone.
“Yes. I guess you can have another shot.”

“I appreciate that. How about Wednesday
night?”

“I can do Wednesday.”

“How about if I pick you up around
seven and take you to an Italian place that I know?”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you on
Wednesday.”

“I hope so,” I reply and press the
End key as a tremor of excitement runs through me. Maybe forgetting our date
was an honest mistake. Maybe Ryan isn’t a bad guy, just a busy, slightly
forgetful one.

As I make my way back to the
office, I hum a Death Cab for Cutie song I heard on the radio this morning when
I turned up the volume to block out the Hyundai’s rattling. What an interesting
morning it has been. Things are looking up. Of course, as I think that, I
realize that whenever I take stock of any good luck in my life, it nearly
always turns bad from that point on.

I cancel the job interview and ask
Maryanne to hold off on the job seeking plans for now. I make progress on the
white papers, again. I speak to Katie several times, listening to her wax
joyfully about Mike and the baby. I really am happy for her.

When Wednesday arrives, I’m
actually pleased with the chill in the air because it means I can wear my new
red wraparound sweater for my date with Ryan. I pair it with a black skirt that
shows off my legs, black tights, and wedge heeled ankle boots. I’ve blown out
my curls tonight and my hair flows past my shoulders in flattering waves. It’s
as though the stars have aligned to create weather conditions that suit me
perfectly this evening.

Ryan makes a good impression,
arriving right on time dressed in grey slacks and a blue dress shirt. His
thick, dark wavy hair is pushed to the side but the unruly ends curl over his
ears and around the top of his shirt collar. He seems apprehensive at first as
he leans down and says hello with a quick kiss to my cheek. Then I can feel his
eyes traveling over me as he gives me an appreciative grin. Immediately, the
butterflies in my belly do a little dance. I’ve forgotten how striking he is
and how I feel when I’m near him.

The restaurant he chooses is a
dimly lit romantic spot not too far from my townhouse, but for some reason,
I’ve never been there. Probably the expensive menu has something to do with
that. As soon as we’re seated, the conversation flows easily. He tells me how
well his company is progressing, and I talk about my recent promotion. I ask
him how his business trip went last week, and he tells me that Chicago was wet
and cold. We talk and talk as we make our way through salads and then move on
to our entrees. The food is good, but I hardly notice what I’m eating. I do
attempt to not get food stuck in my teeth or to let it drop from my fork onto
my new sweater. I notice how Ryan neatly cuts his eggplant parmesan into
bite-size pieces while not allowing it to touch the nearby pasta. I smile at
his partitioned plate, and his answering bashful grin is completely endearing
to me.

We share a dessert of tiramisu, and
when the bill arrives I can’t help myself. Knowing Ryan’s finances aren’t
exactly abundant at the moment, I do the wallet reach. But he shakes his head
at me as he withdraws his wallet. I notice that it’s an overstuffed black
leather one with bits of paper sticking out of every fold. “I’ve got it,” he
says, smiling.

As Ryan is settling the bill, I
hear my cell phone ringing in my purse. I don’t intend to interrupt our date by
answering it, although I do grab it to glance at the caller ID. I don’t
recognize the number, and I let it go to voicemail. Peering at my cell phone, I
recall the message Ryan left me on Labor Day, and then I realize something. In
his message, he said he had been in New York on business. Hadn’t he? I was
nearly sure of it. Could he have been in both New York and Chicago last week?
Had I saved the message? I thought so. Should I ask him now, or would I appear
suspicious? After already accusing him of forgetting about our date last week,
if I now accuse him of lying about his business trip, too, I’ll look completely
paranoid. Of course, it’s possible I have reason to be.
Stop
, I tell
myself. There’s probably a simple explanation. I listen to myself, for a
change, and put those thoughts away for now. Ryan is what he appears to be, I
decide. We’re having a terrific time. Why am I looking to ruin it?

Once we’re back in his car, my
nerves kick in again. My heavy dinner sits like lead in my stomach, and now my
chest feels tight, too. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a very long
time, and I’m way out of practice. Ryan turns on the radio and a slow jazz
tune, marked by a soulful saxophone, plays softly from the speakers. I like the
song even if I don’t know anything about jazz. The glow from the dashboard
reveals the lines of Ryan’s strong handsome face. Before I know it, we’re back
in my driveway. “Would you like to come in?” I ask. Although I think it’s a
given in both our minds that he will.

Tiger has planned a sneak attack
greeting, but when he hears an alien voice in the entryway, he carefully
reveals himself before dashing away, up the stairs. “That was a cat, right?”
Ryan asks.

I nod.

“I guess I have to earn his trust,
too,” he grins, raising his eyebrows at me.

Immediately, I think of his
questionable business trip again. “I’m afraid so.” I chide back, forcibly
burying my doubts. I usher Ryan inside as I walk around and turn on lights.

“Your place is really nice,” he
comments, looking around.

“Thanks. Can I get you something to
drink?” I offer turning toward the kitchen only to realize that I don’t have
wine or coffee or anything but water to give him.

“What have you got?” he asks so
close to my ear that I nearly jump.

“Not much,” I reply, turning to
face him.

He is wearing a sly smile. “I’d
have to disagree with that.” Then his hand moves to my lower back and he gently
pulls me to him. Suddenly, he’s kissing me. His arms wind around me, and I
bring my own hands up along his chest and then higher as I run my fingers
through his thick hair and press myself against him. Heat radiates off his
body, and his arms tighten as he lifts me to my toes. The pure tactile pleasure
produced by the intimate touch of another human being flows through me. It has
been too long since I’ve felt this way. His scent surrounds me, and I can feel
that this is different. He’s unlike anyone who came before him. From far away,
the ringing of my cell phone permeates the haze into which I’m happily sinking.
I ignore the ringing.

When I hit the refrigerator with a
thud, Ryan finally breaks the kiss. He looks around, taking in his surroundings
and appearing embarrassed as he realizes he has just backed me into the
refrigerator door. I take his hands as I look toward the living room. “Let’s
move in there,” I suggest. I’m really thinking
let’s take this to the
bedroom,
but there’s plenty of time for that.

 As we pass my purse sitting
on the floor in the entryway where I dropped it on the way in, my cell phone
rings yet again. I begin to worry that it might be important. I reluctantly
remove my hands from Ryan’s. “It keeps ringing. I’d better see who it is,” I
say apologetically.

He nods and continues into the
living room, giving me privacy for my call. I smile as I notice that his hair
is in complete disarray due to me.

I fish inside my purse and withdraw
my still ringing cell phone. The number on the caller ID belongs to Katie.

“He’s gone,” she blurts out after
my hello.

“What?” I ask, trying to clear my
head.

“Mike. He left. He said he needs
time to think about things.” Her voice is tremulous. She’s crying.

“You’re saying Mike left you?”

“No, not exactly. He packed a bag
and said he needed to get away. To think.”

“Think about what?”

“I don’t know. He just said things.
But of course he meant me. And the baby.”

“Oh no, Katie.”

 “Do you think you could come
over?” she asks softly.

I take a breath and close my eyes.
“Of course.”

She sniffles into the phone. “You
don’t mind? It’s pretty late.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

I lean against the wall, staring at
my cell phone, not surprised by Mike’s leaving, and thinking about the man
waiting for me in my living room. But now I can’t silence the voice in my head
any longer, the one that tells me to listen to Ryan’s message again. I dial
into my voicemail and press the button to replay old messages. Soon I hear
Ryan’s familiar voice telling me he was in New York last week.

I put the phone away and walk into
the living room. I find Ryan examining the framed pictures of my family that
stand on the coffee table. “Your sister looks just like you,” he comments.

I smile sadly, still tingling from
the feeling of his arms around me. “That was a friend on the phone,” I begin.
“She’s having a crisis. I kind of need to go over there.”

I can see that it takes a minute
for my words to register. “You mean right now?” he asks, his disbelief obvious.