Wanderlust (10 page)

Jason

I got nervous when she’d said she needed some things for her trip to Thailand; I didn’t really want to help her shop for honeymoon lingerie or anything, but it turned out she needed a new backpack and some serious walking shoes, and we spent a surprising amount of time discussing the merits of Keens versus Tevas.

It had sort of struck me, though, that the apartment didn’t really seem like hers. I’m not usually that observant about stuff like that, but I’d noticed there were no photos of her or all the interesting places she’d visited, and the décor had a very masculine feeling to it—in a sophisticated, hired-an-interior-decorator way, but still. It lacked a woman’s touch. It lacked
her
touch.

I wondered if there was a reason she hadn’t brought her things to Chicago. Maybe Stephen didn’t want her messing with his high-end décor?

I should have just come clean with her then. I could have told her that my job sucked and I was due to lose it any minute. I could have asked her for advice on relocating somewhere with beautiful scenery and no heating bills. The only time I’d been out of the country was a spring break trip to Cancun my senior year; I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be impressed with my travel credentials.

But the truth was slowly dawning on me: even if I had no chance, I still wanted to impress her. I wanted to be the man I hadn’t been for her in college.

I dropped her off at her apartment just as it was getting dark. “Thanks. I really enjoyed spending the day with you.”

“No, thank
you
. Thank you for driving me all over town, and for all the great advice you gave me. It’s really fantastic. I can’t wait to start putting it into practice.”

“No worries. I’m happy to help. In fact, I’m going to call to make sure you’re following up.”

She grinned. “An accountability partner on top of everything else. You’re a real bargain!”

She pulled her new backpack and the shoes out of my trunk and stood on the sidewalk next to my car. I didn’t really want to let her go just yet, but I was running out of reasons to keep her there.

“Do you want a hand getting your things up to the apartment?” I asked.

“Thanks, but I’m okay.” She smiled and didn’t make any move to go. Neither did I. We just stood staring at each other for a moment. I wanted to ask her when I could see her again, but I was afraid of sounding like I was asking her on a date. The snow was starting to fall softly, but the wind had died down, and it wasn’t as cold as it had been. Large, fluffy snowflakes were gathering on her bangs. Without thinking, I reached down to brush them off with my left hand.

She leaned into me. As soon as touched her face, I realized I’d been too forward, and I pulled my hand back. “Hey, I’d better get going,” I said reluctantly. “Early day tomorrow. And your man’s probably waiting for you.”

Her smile faded. “Oh. Right. Yeah, he’s probably home by now. I should start making dinner. Well, thanks again.”

It was probably my imagination, but her hug felt longer and tighter than it had before.

I made my way home. Matt was out—for real this time, probably out to dinner with Kim. Although, knowing the two of them, it was just as likely they were at the library. It was completely dark by now, but still relatively early.

I had a long, lonely night to look forward to. Hanging out with Monica all day had been fun—too fun, maybe. I enjoyed her company as much as ever and I was excited about her business, but she was home making dinner for her new man and I was home alone on a Sunday night, thinking about all the things my life was lacking.

Rather than get caught up in self-pity, I decided to hike two snowy blocks to the Chinese place and order some takeout. It was decent food, and not having to cook for myself made it worth the extra money. I trudged back to the apartment with my dinner and spread out in front of the computer.

Talking to Monica about her business had put me in marketing mode, and I began looking over the Silver Basin Spa’s website and taking notes on things they could do to bring in more customers. I called Chip’s wife Katie and talked to her for about twenty minutes on what the customer experience there was like; her insights were really helpful. I kind of hoped I’d be able to talk to Chip afterward, but she told me he was at the gym.

I went back to my now-cold lo mien and my notes on the spa and began writing an email to the owner. At the end, I suggested an early morning meeting later that week; I’d be late for work again, but hell, I wanted them to fire me, right? Of course, if I screwed up too much, that hoped-for severance package wouldn’t be an option, but I was probably just dreaming that it was a possibility anyway.

The idea was to give her some great ideas upfront, arrange a meeting with her in person to find out more, then send her a detailed proposal. I’d done some copywriting jobs for a handful of small businesses since I’d gotten to Chicago, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to really sink my teeth into anything since my company in San Francisco had folded. I found myself getting excited about the spa. Katie had great things to say about it, and it already had a strong brand, but after looking at their website, my mind was bursting with ways they could improve their business. The trick was suggesting enough to get them interested, without giving away so much that they wouldn’t have a reason to hire me.

It took me a couple of hours to write and revise the email, but when I finally hit send, I felt like I’d accomplished something worthwhile. I was finally doing something about my business, not just talking about it. Even if nothing else came from running into Monica again, at least I had this.

Monica

I had really thought for a moment Jason was going to kiss me, but of course, he wouldn’t do that. He saw me to the door of the apartment, gave me a brief hug, and then drove off, leaving me to trudge upstairs with my packages.

Stephen was already home. “Shopping, I see. Get anything good?”

“Travel stuff. I doubt you’ll approve. How’s your mom?” I asked.

“Crazy as ever, but she fed me well. Help yourself; she sent cookies.”

“Ooh, thanks,” I said, taking a large chocolate chip cookie from the tin he waved at. It really was a good thing I was going back to Thailand soon, I thought.

“Where have you been?”

I could feel my cheeks warming up. “Out with Jason.”

“Oh-ho. Spill it, girlfriend. If you still are my girlfriend?”

“This is delicious.” I waved the cookie at him.

“You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Yeah, see, here’s the problem—I’m
not
your girlfriend, let alone your fiancé. And I think we’ve reached the point where I need to fess up to Jason. I like him, and I think he likes me back and, dude, you’re kinda cramping my style.”

He shook his head sadly at the sight of my REI shopping bag. “Trust me, I can only be good for your style.”

“Well, you’re not doing my love life much good. I think he wanted to kiss me, but he held back.”

“Good
grief
, I’m out of the house for ten hours and already I’m way behind. Tell me
everything
.”

I filled him in on the day.

“Oh,” he said when I was done, “this is so romantic. I just love where this is going.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s not
going
anywhere. He thinks I’m engaged to be married. He won’t make a pass at me because he’s not that kind of guy, and if I make a pass at him, he’ll think I
am
that type of girl.”

“So this is the part where you throw poor old Stephen under the bus and tell him you’re actually single?” He gave me a meaningful look.

I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, maybe.”

“So honesty isn’t the best policy, and our wedding is still on after all?”

“Oh, I don’t know. By the way, apparently people who are really engaged have pictures of each other all over their apartments. He picked up that photo of you and Patrick.”

“Changing the subject again.”

I sighed. “I think I could fall for him all over again.”

“And that would be bad, of course.”

“Well,
yeah
. I’m leaving the country in a couple of weeks.”

Stephen gave me his most withering stare. “You’re going by jet plane, not steamboat. I mean, I know it’s a long, expensive trip and all, but visiting each other wouldn’t be completely out of the question. And six months isn’t that long.”

I finished the last bite of cookie and thought about having another one. “We’d just be postponing the problem. He’s never going to drop his great job and do anything wild like follow me around the world. And I don’t see myself staying in one place for very long.”

“You could give it a try,” Stephen said. “Maybe one of these days you’ll be ready to settle down.”

“Mmm, I don’t know. If I met the right guy, maybe. But how can I tell if Jason’s the right guy if we can’t even go on a date?”

Stephen smacked himself in the forehead. “Are you being deliberately dense, sugarplum? This vicious circle is entirely in your head. You could go on a date—on several, actually, before Thailand—and if it looks good, see what you can swing for the future.”

“And I still haven’t talked to him about what happened with Amber,” I added.

“
Or
,” Stephen went on as if I hadn’t said anything, “you’ve got this all wrong and he
would
be willing to drop everything and travel around the world with you.”

“I doubt it,” I said.

“If things got serious, would you think about staying here instead of going abroad again?”

“I don’t know.”

“So what do you want from this guy?”

“I don’t know!” I almost wailed this time. “Hot sex, true love, commitment, freedom.” I sighed. “Resolution.”

“None of which are mutually exclusive,” Stephen replied. “But if I were you, baby doll, however painful it is, I’d start with resolution.”

*****

Stephen left for work early the next day. I waved at him sleepily from the couch, but we didn’t talk. I spent much of the morning at a coffee shop, working on implementing Jason’s suggestions. When I felt like I’d worn out my welcome there, I went back to Stephen’s apartment and kept working. I missed being abroad. When I traveled, there were always other people around, locals and fellow travelers, who could be counted on to ask and answer questions, praise or complain about the weather, or recommend restaurants and tourist attractions. But here in my own country, surrounded by people whose native language was English, I was lonely.

Stephen had texted me mid-afternoon to say he’d be working late, which wasn’t unusual. Around five-thirty, I decided to run out for some food and make sure there was a good dinner waiting for him when he got home. I made it to the lobby door when I realized I’d left my phone by my laptop. But as I wasn’t going far, I decided not to go back for it.

As I trudged down the icy street to the little gourmet grocery store on the corner, I felt like I was catching a glimpse of life as it would be if I really were engaged: a productive but lonely day in front of my computer, a boyfriend who left early and came home late, grocery shopping and making dinner by myself.

Of course, it wouldn’t have to be like that. I could get an office job myself and at least spend the day with other people. Or maybe, with all of the new ideas that Jason had set in motion, I could focus on working with more clients face to face. I had several clients at the moment, but except for Sarah, they were all other parts of the country.

I could find a way to make it work. Maybe.

Anyway, the whole thing was ridiculous. Jason and I hadn’t even been on a date, and here I was trying to figure out how to make living together work out.

When I got home clutching my expensive bag of fresh pasta and gourmet cheese, I was surprised to see that Stephen was back.

“You’re home already. I was going to surprise you with fettuccine Alfredo,” I said.

“Yeah, something got cancelled at the last minute. If you make dinner, I will happily fake being surprised,” he said. “By the way, Jason called.” He nodded at my phone, which I’d left beside my laptop.

“You peeked at my phone?” I asked, amused at his nosiness.

“I
answered
your phone. We’re having dinner with him on Wednesday.”

“We’re
what
?”

“I think it’s high time I met this guy you’re about to leave me for. He sounds nice. Vodka tonic?”

“I think I need one. So, this is the dinner where we tell him that you actually like boys?”

“Well now, let’s not get carried away. I was thinking more that we have a nice dinner and I check him out for you. I think you need an objective assessment from your favorite financier. See if he’s high grade or subprime. Once I get a handle on him, I’ll be able to assess this situation a whole lot better.”

“Why am I scared?”

He grinned wickedly at me. “Because this is the dinner where we find out what this man of yours is really made of.”