Promise Me (37 page)

When I wake up the next morning, I decide to take a walk around my new neighborhood, wanting to partake in the early fall like weather that I've been missing out on for the last ten years while living in Miami. I stroll for about an hour trying to clear my head with no specific destination in mind until I realize that I should probably get back to unpacking. I decide to stop at a local flower shop for a fresh bouquet of gorgeous sunflowers that would look lovely in my new dining room, and then pop over to the coffee shop next door before heading home. With my flowers bundled in one hand, I reach for the door to the coffee shop just as it's being opened. I don't look up when I say thank you to the person holding it open for me.

"Sabrina, is that you?" The voice attached to the body of the person holding the door open asks.

Shit, I've been made.

I look up to find myself face to face with Jimmy, Tyler's partner at the restaurant and right hand man. Momentarily flustered, he smiles kindly at me, making me just a tiny bit more comfortable at the situation.

"Hi Jimmy."

"What are doing here? I thought you lived in Miami."

Another customer is trying to enter the coffee shop so we both step aside to give them room. Then, and I have no idea why, but I suddenly let the cat out of the bag. "I just recently moved here."

His face looks surprised before he asks, "Tyler doesn't know does he?"

I shake my head and answer him at the same time. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

"Of course, if that's what you want."

What do I want? Oh God, I'm going to lose it right here on the street if my mind starts to go down this path again this early in the morning. So, instead I mumble a quick thank you.

"It was really nice to see you again," I say and I'm already turning towards the door of the coffee shop. The door knob feels cold against my now sweaty palm when Jimmy speaks up again.

"Sabrina," he says, "may I let you in on something?"

I'm still gripping onto the door knob for dear life when I turn my head and shrug my shoulders.

"I've known him for a very long time. And in all that time, I've never seen him head over heels for anyone like he is for you." He smiles faintly before he adds, "I mean, the boy is a goner."

My defensive side perks up and lets go of the door knob to face him.

Jimmy puts his hands up and says, "I can tell that I've upset you and that wasn't my intention at all."

"He made a choice, and it wasn't me. Is that all you wanted to tell me, Jimmy, because I can't handle this right now," I strangle out and instantly feel terrible over.

"Look, I know what happened," he sighs and I almost burst into tears. "When he told me I almost killed him. I warned him from the start that Ava was bad news." Pausing to take a breath he nervously goes on to add, "But, I also told him that he shouldn't quit. That if he loved you as much as he says he does that he should fight for you."

Now I'm officially crying. Tears are streaming down my face and I can only imagine what anyone walking by would be thinking seeing this scene play out before them.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have said anything."

He reaches into his pocket to pull out a tissue and hands it to me. His eyes search my face with concern before he turns on his heel to head down the sidewalk. I let him get a couple of steps away from me before I call out to him.

"Yeah," he answers as he's turning back around to face me.

I close the distance between us while I'm using the tissue to wipe my eyes. When I reach him, I can see that he really does care for Tyler and only meant well.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

I mean it too. Even if things don't work out between me and Tyler, at least I know that he has someone who's looking out for him.

"You're welcome, Sabrina."

Jimmy's barely there smile is the last thing I see before I quickly turn around and head back towards my apartment. If I had stayed a second longer, I would have asked him to take me right to him, and I can't do that yet.

When I reach the confines of my box filled apartment, I don't even put the flowers in a vase. I'm in a daze still from my brief conversation with Jimmy. I sink to the exact same spot on the floor that I was sitting in last night, just staring at nothing and feeling more defeated than ever.

It all feels empty.

The rooms, my life, my heart… all of it.

The following Monday at work is fantastic and worth all the misery I've been heaping onto myself at night when I'm alone. I'm working closely with Dennis -I'm still not comfortable calling him that even though he insists I do- on a new exhibit of Van Gogh's latter years that will begin its run in February. Everything is falling into place, or at least the career portion of my life is... if only the rest of it would follow suit as easily.

Just like my apartment, my new office still has a couple of boxes left to unpack. The space itself is about the same size as my office at the gallery in Miami, so I really have no excuse other than I've just hit the ground running with my new job and been too busy to devote any time to it. Since my first day, I've spent most of my lunch hour roaming the museum. I've been here as a visitor so many times in the past, but somehow it's different now that I work here. It's like I'm seeing everything with a new set of eyes. But today, I promised myself that I will not randomly wander the building and dedicate the time to get at least this done.

With a few minutes to spare in my lunch hour, I take a step back and admire my handiwork. A bookcase that came with the office now has all my little knick knacks. Framed photos of my parents, Julia and I, and a couple of when I lived in Italy after college. I've interspersed the photos with other little personal items that I've collected over the years. My favorite one is an official NHL hockey puck from the first Flyers game my Dad ever took me to. I've never been a huge sports fan, but the memory of my Dad taking me at eight years old to see a live game was one of the best days of my life and always brings a smile to my face.

"All settled, I see," my boss, Mr. Forrester says from behind me as I place the hockey puck in its rightful place on the bookcase.
Dennis, Dennis, Dennis.
.. I repeat instantly in my head to correct myself.

"Yes, finally," I say relieved that I'm done.

He cheerfully takes a couple of strides in my office and comes to stop at the one item I haven't touched yet. Still wrapped in brown parcel and twine is the framed print of "
Blue Nude"
by Picasso, which I was planning on tucking away into a corner somewhere.

He pulls it off the wall where it's leaning against and picks it up. "Looks like you forgot something."

Quickly wanting to get it out of his grip, I reach out with my hands and say, "Maybe when I have more time I'll hang it up."

He puts it back down before I can grab it and says he'll be right back.

Shit.

Dennis comes back a minute later with a small hammer and a wall hook, looking as determined as ever to get the damn thing hung on the wall.

"You don't have to do that, Dennis," my voice wavering on me. "I'll get to it eventually."

"Don't be silly. We'll do this right now so you can be completely settled into your new office."

I can't very well say no, can I? I'm stuck and can't talk my way out of it now. The picture is going up whether I like it or not.

"Here, hold this," he says handing me the hammer.

He backs up a few steps to look upon the blank wall, picks a spot then gets to work and in a matter of minutes, the hook is in place. Dennis asks me to tear off the paper that is carefully guarding my memories that are now associated with this painting. Ever so slowly, I make a small tear in the corner and like Charlie getting that first glimpse of the Golden Ticket; I smile faintly at the blue strokes of color.

"One of my favorites," Dennis says while I remove the rest of the wrapping. "May I?"

He gingerly takes it from my hands before I can answer and lifts it up to hang on the wall. Stepping back a couple of times to ensure that it's centered until being completely satisfied with his job, Dennis now stands beside me studying it carefully.

"Such an exquisite piece," he says, "Picasso really had an ability to express his complex emotions with one simple shade of blue, don't you think?"

I say yes, but my mind is not thinking at all on the complexity of Picasso's emotions. My head and heart are vaulted back to Tyler's apartment where it sits above his bed simply because it reminded him of me.

"A shame that the original belongs to a private collector in Paris. What I wouldn't give to have it here for the world to see and admire," Dennis says regretfully.

Still holding the brown parcel paper it was wrapped in, he takes it out of my hands and tosses it in the garbage for me.

"Oh well, enough daydreaming," he laughs. "Now, you're completely moved in."

I emit a small hooray and try to divert my eyes from the picture while he tells me that we will be cataloging some of the older paintings in one of the museum's archive rooms for the rest of the afternoon. Relieved that I won't be stuck in my office to torture myself, I reach over to my desk and grab my supplies before following him down the hall.

The rest of the afternoon goes by rather quickly, but there is no question that I feel distracted. My thoughts are elsewhere and I can't blame it all on the painting either. Sure, it brought it back to the surface a little while ago, but who am I kidding? They've been there ever since I last saw him. I'm right back at the proverbial crossroads that I can never decide what the correct direction I'm supposed to take is. Tired of feeling so lost, I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands hoping that it will help me see more clearly. Opening them up again, all seems exactly the same, so I pack it in for the day shortly after six o'clock.

I nervously grip the steering wheel while I weave in and out of rush hour traffic as if my car had a mind of its own. It drives through some of the smaller, cobblestoned streets of Philadelphia until I reach a familiar area. Looking for a parking spot relatively close, I finally find one about a half a block up and across the street. I kill the engine and stay in my car for a minute or two, silently willing myself to get out. When my body doesn't respond, I think that I've made a mistake and go to start my car again. I freeze though when I happen to look up and catch a glimpse of the lit sign of Tyler's restaurant up the block.

I reach for my purse and fish out my cell phone to call the one person who won't think I'm crazy.

Julia answers on the second ring. "Hey sweetie," she says cheerfully, "And just so you know, this doesn't get you out of our Skype session later."

I ignore her comment and just cut to the chase.

"Julia, do you believe in signs?"

"What do you mean signs? Like actual signs on a street or big picture, life altering signs?"

I clarify. "I mean big picture, life altering signs."

"Hmmm," she counters, "Will my answer directly affect whatever the hell it is you're about to do or not do?"

"Well, since I'm sitting in my car staring at Tyler's restaurant, then yes, it very well could."

She squeals in my ear so loudly that I pull the phone away.

"Okay, okay, I've got it out of my system," she says excitedly. "Go ahead and tell me about these signs."

"I ran into Jimmy, Tyler's partner over the weekend…"

"You didn't tell me that," she interjects.

"I know I didn't, just let me finish please," I plead.

"Sorry, go ahead."

"Okay," I say getting more anxious by the second. "So, I ran into him and he told me how Tyler's head over heels in love with me."

"Well I could have told you that, Sabrina."

Sighing into the phone, she shuts up quickly and lets me continue. "Then today, I was unpacking my office and had no intention of hanging up that painting that I told you about."

"The Picasso?"

"Yes," I confirm, "that's the one. Anyway, I wasn't going to hang it up and then my boss zooms in and makes me open it and proceeds to hang it up on my wall for me."