Year of the Chick (30 page)

Two cocktails and a million different kinds of cake.
Now this is more like it.

“Mmm...” she said. “The swirly one is awesome!”

There were five more pieces of mini-cake remaining.
I’ll kick her ass if I don’t get three.
“So Laura,” I began, trying to distract her from the cake, “what are you getting lover-boy for Christmas?”

Laura smiled and suddenly resembled a school-girl. “I don’t know! What are you supposed to get for a first Christmas?”

 
“Well it depends, what do you think he’s getting for you? Jewelry?”

“Jewelry on a first Christmas? No way! More like something small but thoughtful.”

“Why don’t you get him a book?” I suggested. “About a topic he really likes?”

“A book? What am I his grandmother? Why don’t I just get him some socks?”

“SORRY.”
Am I the only one who loves getting books as presents?
“I’m sure you’ll find something. It’s the shopping capital of the world, after all.”

“I hope so! So hey, do you still wanna go to the gym tomorrow morning?”

During our flight, I’d begged Laura to join me for a Friday morning work-out, my one last chance to burn off any fat before the big face-to-face. I’d also begged her to do my hair and make-up. My one and only shot to look perfect for James.

“You bet your ass I wanna go. So gym at nine a.m., then breakfast, then back to the hotel to get ready.”

“In that case we better get rolling,” she said. “It’s almost midnight!”

We paid our bill and trekked along Broadway once again, with the snow falling faster now. As I pulled my wool mittens out of my pockets, I noticed something very disturbing. My hands were incredibly dry. But hadn’t I moisturized just before we left the hotel?

“NOOO!” I wailed.

Laura slipped and almost fell as she turned around. “What is it?”

“I’m screwed! You know what I brought with me on the trip? My favourite vanilla hand cream!”

“Yeah, I know. That stuff smells awesome.”

“Well this is the first time I’m using it in winter, and it doesn’t hold up at all in the winter air!” I raised my hands. “Feel them!” She approached me and I rubbed them against her face.

“Stop it, your hands are freezing!” She jerked her face away.

“Yeah, and they feel like a wrinkled mass! Especially the left one which was already more weathered to begin with.” I sighed. “I’m serious, if he grabs my hand and it feels like a leathery claw, then I might as well go home right now!” Perhaps it was the influence of alcohol, but I had tears in my eyes. This seemed like the worst news ever.

In panic, my eyes darted around for a solution, but all I could see was a billboard for “Victoria’s Secret,” a gift-shop for ugly overpriced New York City trinkets (that was sure to be owned by a stern Middle-Eastern man), and the Hershey’s chocolate store. Which was well past closing time.
Fuck.

“Relax,” said Laura, as she pushed me back in the direction of our hotel. “We’ll go to a drugstore tomorrow. Okay?”

I continued to look defeated, like a sad little penguin trapped in a snow globe. “But Laura, you know how it’ll end up being tomorrow. I’ll be nervous, I’ll have freak-outs, and we just won’t have time for the drug store.” I studied my wrinkled hands in detail by the nearest streetlight, disgusted by the cracks and ridges.
You late-twenties bitch.

“Then we’ll wake up an hour early!”

“You mean eight a.m.?”

She smiled. “Eight a.m. dammit.”

I couldn’t believe she would actually ruin sleep for me. “Alright then. Well thank you for supporting my cause.” I looked at my watch to see that it was five past midnight. “And it looks like we’re going to need a wake-up call.”

***

The sound of the telephone broke through the morning silence.

It was the wake-up call and I immediately answered. My eyes had been open for the last two hours.

I rose from bed and headed to the bathroom, with that familiar pit in my stomach. It was the one that preceded all of my desired male encounters. Only this time it was heavier, and at least ten times more sickening.

Laura and I said little on our way to the colossal gym, and even less as we mounted the high-tech treadmills, which were perfectly positioned for a view of Times Square.

I survived the laboured workout only because it distracted my volatile stomach. By ten o’ clock we were showered, dressed and sitting in a nearby diner.

“Why aren’t you eating?” asked Laura. “These eggs are awesome.”

“I don’t have an appetite.” I stared at the bacon, eggs, and shredded potatoes that on any other day would have raced to my stomach in less than ten minutes. It looked revolting.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll puke when it’s time to get ready. I promise you that.”

The idea of meeting James with even a trace of vomit-breath was horrifying. I took a small bite of eggs.

“So...do you think he’s going to kiss you?” Laura smiled slyly as she swirled her eggs around in some ketchup.

“Oh my god...I never even thought of that!” I pushed my plate away and felt like I was hyper-ventilating.

Laura grabbed my arm and looked at me with alarm. “What the hell, dude?”

I closed my eyes and massaged my forehead. “What if I meet him and there’s nothing there?”

“You mean chemistry?”

I opened my eyes and nodded. “Yes! I’ve imagined this visit a thousand times, and I always assumed there would be chemistry. But that’s a big assumption...”

“What makes you think you wouldn’t have it?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean our ‘brain sex’ relating to writing is incredible. But what if he shakes my hand and feels nothing? Or what if it’s me who feels nothing? It happens all the time...it’s the ‘friend zone.’“

She sighed. “Listen Romes, I’m not gonna lie…it’s a possibility.”

WHAT?!
My eyes popped out of their head and rolled across the table.

“But I really don’t think that’s going to happen!” she quickly added. “I mean think about it, why wouldn’t you be attracted? And vice versa?”

From escaping eyeballs to a strange realization, now I couldn’t help but laugh.
James Caldwell, the guy who sees beach babes every day, attracted to ME?

“Oh and one more thing,” she continued. “The second you meet him, and for every destination after, you have to send me a text message. That way I’ll know where you are at all times.” She nodded to herself and took a sip of orange juice. “By the way, what time is the ‘date of your dreams’ set to end?”

The word “end” almost clouded my entire mood, but I managed to shake it off.
Just live in the moment.
“I promise I’ll text you. And he’s supposed to be on a red-eye flight at some crazy time of night, so I guess I’ll be with him for the day. That is if he doesn’t get bored with me.”

“Well I’ll be waiting.” Laura grinned and then finished up the last of her orange juice.

I sat there smiling and staring at the nicest human being in the world. “So listen,” I said, suddenly remembering the schedule. “When’s our next stop?”

Laura looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes, so hurry up and eat!”

My appetite was still a little shaky, but by the end I’d eaten one slice of bacon, a third of my potatoes, and half a glass of orange juice.

Not bad.

We cabbed our way to the nearest drugstore by eleven a.m., a giant location only eight blocks south of our hotel.
Maybe we could’ve walked.
Once in the skincare aisle, I looked past the “age defying” hand cream claims, trying instead to find the one that could stand up to weather.

“I found it!” Laura ran towards me with a small white tube, marked in the center by Norway’s flag. “I’ve seen this one in commercials. It’s always being used by fishermen.”

I curiously studied the tube. “Fishermen?”

“Yeah! Think about it. Fishing in Norway? COLD. Hands from a day outside? DRY. They would totally need stuff like this!”

“Yeah, okay.” We headed towards the line-up to pay, but before I could even turn the corner my heart started racing. “Laura you’re wrong. The real answer’s here.” I pointed to the bottom row.

“Dude, that’s foot cream.”

“I know it is! But put on your science hat for a minute.” I grabbed the nearest tube and started reading the back. “If a foot cream promises to ‘restore the softness of your dry, rough, and cracked feet,’ what do you think it’ll do for my hands?”

“What?” Laura was obviously confused.

“Exactly!” I said. “It’ll turn them into silk!” I grabbed a tester bottle to try it out, but stopped as soon as I opened the cap.

“Ugh, we just have to find one that doesn’t stink.”

And that was Laura and I for the next two minutes, opening and whiffing every single tube of foot cream in the skincare aisle.

I let out a squeal when I found the one. “It’s neutral! Just a hint of oatmeal essence, but other than that it smells like nothing. Which means I can mix it with my scented vanilla!”

“Awesome! Let’s get the hell out of here though. All this foot-cream sniffing is making me nauseous.”

As we left the store a mild winter wind danced its way across my face. “You know what that feels like Laura? That feels like zero wind-chill!”

“And the sun is shining too. Your perfect day is here!”

My stomach began to grumble and I smiled. “I think my appetite’s here as well.”

Maybe my days of being crazy-nervous are over...

***

Two p.m.

Thirty minutes left until the face-to-face.

“There. I think that’s enough curl. But let me run my fingers through it a bit. You want it to look natural.”

I nodded, still clutching a granola bar wrapper in my hand.

“And then we’ll use the hair balm and some spray to hold the wave.”

I trusted Laura completely with my hair, and once she was finished I rose to take a look in the mirror.

The hair was bouncy with a good amount of sheen. Paired with a hint of smoky eye-shadow, my favourite mascara, all blemishes expertly covered and subtle lip-gloss for the finish, it seemed like a pretty good look.

“Do you like it?” Laura stood behind me, though fully obscured as I stood five inches taller.

“I love it, thank you!” I turned and gave her a hug.
 
“So tell me again, what happens now?”

Suddenly things became strange. My breath was feeling shorter, like it kept getting caught in my throat. And was it me, or was the room a lot hotter than before?

“We’re actually half an hour ahead of schedule! But you’re not going to meet him early. No, he should be there first to receive you. So we’ll chill, double check your bag to make sure you remembered everything, and then that’s it!”

“Right.”

“This is it Romes. Seven months, and thousands of miles of distance.” She sounded like a TV host, complete with the accompanying hand gestures. “But now he’s just a two-minute walk away! A coffee with your Internet dude…AREN’T YOU EXCITED?!”

“Coffee?” I whispered. “Hot milk?…Syrup?” It was happening, the fear I’d had in the back of my mind, ever since the day I first imagined meeting him (
“When I meet him, I am SO gonna puke from being nervous.”
)

“Are you okay?”

I nodded.
I can walk it off. No, I CANNOT walk it off.

I sprinted to the bathroom. “Hold my hair back!” I cried. “HOLD MY HAIR BACK!”

Laura carefully held back my “natural-looking waves,” whilst I hurled into the hotel’s white porcelain.

Once I was finished, I leaned against the wall and felt completely relaxed.

Why must I always go through that to get to this?

I closed my eyes and felt a teardrop falling down my cheek.

Oh no, the post-vomit tears!

I looked at Laura before I could face the mirror. “Is my makeup ruined?”

“It’s actually not so bad. We can totally fix it!”

“Fix it? Fix WHAT?”

I hopped back up and faced the mirror.
Ugh.
My once picture-perfect face looked sweaty and flush. Lucky for me I never wore mascara on my bottom lashes, but there were still some tiny streaks of black that needed wiping.

Laura sighed. “Okay, let’s fix this.”

***

My teeth were brushed (twice), my face was fixed and there was no time left to waste. I slid on my boots first, then put on my waist-length black wool coat, which became very fitted once buttoned (the days of unattractive boxy outerwear were over). Once that was done I let out my hair from underneath my pink scarf, allowing it the chance to bounce freely. My matching mittens I wouldn’t need for now, so I dropped them in my bag, and well...that was it.

Laura gave me one last look of assurance. “Let’s go.”

The nervousness was creeping back, but I made it to the elevators without any major disaster. We were truly on our way, but when I reached for the elevator button and caught a close glimpse of my hand, I gasped.