“What are you talking about?” he said. “Ella is baking cookies for my dad. Do you need her?”
“No, just tell her it looks like I’m going to be faithful to Emily after all.”
“Why? I think she was actually rooting for you and Heidi.”
“She’s like night and day, isn’t she? Anyway, tell her to stop rooting. It’s not happening. Nothing is happening and I’m going to be single for life.”
“What? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Slightly enamored with my own misfortune, but fine.”
“True love takes work, man. Can’t expect everything to be the way you want it to be.”
“If love is a game of cards, then I’m the guy who constantly loses.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It is. Trust me.” I sighed. “It’s getting ridiculous at this point. I need a break. I’m using some of my savings, going to the airport, and flying who the hell knows where for a few weeks. So if anyone is wondering, that’s what happened.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Just appreciate what you have with Ella and never let it fade.”
“That I can do. See ya soon, Pat. If you need anything we’re your people. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I hung up, packed a carry-on bag of clothes, toothpaste, and shampoo, and left my apartment for the airport. Figured I’d take the next available flight wherever it went.
I called my secretary in the car and left a message for her to cancel all appointments from now until the second week of January and reschedule them. Also told her to take off and enjoy a vacation.
The airport played holiday tunes as I walked by large Christmas trees lit with cheer. You’d think no one would fly on Christmas, but it was pretty hopping. I scanned the departing flights for something interesting and decided to ask the lady behind the desk to choose for me.
“Anywhere?” she said. “Domestic or international?”
“Anywhere in the U.S.”
She pushed a few buttons, charged my card, and smiled as she handed me some papers.
“Have fun,” she said.
I nodded, thanked her, and walked away while reading my ticket. Departing in forty-two minutes. Destination? Chicago. Interesting enough. I turned my phone off, checked in, and waited until take off. Felt good to do something for myself for once. Really good, actually.
I slept on the plane and dreamt of Heidi. Nightmare central. I woke up with a chill. Something didn’t feel right. Brushing emotions aside, I walked off the plane, did all the necessary stuff, and got a rental car. My GPS led me through Chicago. It was late and most of the city was sleeping. Huge beautiful buildings and Christmas lights all over the place. Light dusting of snow, but not enough to cover the city in white. I found a nice hotel by millennium park. The building towered above, lit up like a huge candle glowing in the sky. The valet service took my car and another man ushered me inside. All smiles. I paid for a room and within minutes passed out on the bed. Didn’t even take the time to get undressed.
Couldn’t sleep though, so I tossed and turned until 5a.m. as I wondered why I spent money to come to a frost-bitten city during Christmas. Should’ve went to my parents house for turkey and mashed potatoes and dealt with reality.
Once the sun lit the edges of my curtains, I took a shower and got dressed, then found my way to a nice little coffee house by my hotel. Small, but seemed kinda upscale. I paid for a coffee which they made fresh right in front of me, from grinding the beans to a small French press large enough for one cup. Some serious coffee makers, if you ask me.
I sat by the window and scanned the room. One other man about my age sat at the bar reading a newspaper. That’s it. Understandable for such an early hour.
I watched people pass. Not many of them did. Still hadn’t turned on my phone. And had no plans to. Figured I’d stay a week. Keep my phone off. Process my life. You know, try to relax and then go back to reality when I couldn’t avoid it anymore.
I sipped my coffee and noticed a woman sitting by the window across the shop. She looked away when I caught her watching me. I pretended not to notice and pulled a book from my backpack.
The Picture of Dorian Gray
by Oscar Wilde. I scanned the words with my eyes, but my mind kept thinking about Heidi. What was she doing? Was she happy? Who was the guy in her bedroom?
I caught the woman looking at me again. Chestnut hair way passed her shoulders, eyes hiding under long bangs, she would’ve been worth talking to if I were interested in women.
But I wasn’t.
I was interested in singleness for life. It’s easier for a woman to get her heart broken in this culture. She gives so much and most men are selfish. But come on now. As a man I had more than my fair share of getting hurt and I wanted nothing to do with the culprit.
Women.
She smiled at me with a pen between her teeth. I’m not dumb. I know flirtatiousness when I see it. So I buried my face behind Dorian Gray and ignored her.
“Excuse me,” a gentle voice whispered. “Is this seat taken?”
I peered over the book and shook my head. She sat down. Smiling. I pretended to read.
“I live here,” she said. “But you look like you’re from somewhere else.”
“Philadelphia,” I said, not looking up.
“Is it much different there?”
“Not sure. Only been here since last night.”
“Oh really? What brings you here for Christmas?”
I put the book on the table and looked into her eyes. “I need a break because women suck the life out of me.”
She laughed and put a red beret on her head. “Let’s go.”
I picked the book back up.
“You’re not fooling anyone when you pretend to read that book, you know.”
I ignored her and read aloud.
“How old are you?” she said.
“Older than you.”
“Today is my birthday. I’m twenty-eight. You look about thirty?”
She crossed her arms and smiled at me as I read. The red beret made her hazel eyes look brown. I couldn’t help but notice, although I tried my hardest not to.
“I’m not flirting,” she said. “You just look like you could use a friend.”
I kept reading. Didn’t look up.
“Not all women suck the life out of men. Some of us like to bring life to them. You look like you could use a little resuscitating.”
“Not from your mouth,” I said.
She laughed. “My name is Nora. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Why are you spending your birthday talking to a strange man?”
“I need an adventure. This year I promised myself I’d do things I don’t normally do. Step one, talk to a complete stranger.”
“You seem pretty good at it for a first timer.”
A man walked in the door and saw us. “Nora,” he said. “Great job with Les Mis. You were incredible as always.”
She thanked him and turned back to me. “Let’s go,” she whispered. “You’re not the only one who needs to escape reality.”
She stuffed my book into my backpack, took my hand, and pulled me into the blustery morning. Tiny flakes of snow gathered on her red hat as she forced me to run a few city blocks with her.
Out of breath, we stopped at an outdoor ice skating place. Only a few kids messing around. Other than that, just us.
“Ready?” she said.
“For?”
“We’re gonna race across the ice. Whoever makes it to the other side first gets to ask the other person a question and they have to answer honestly.”
“Nah.”
“Come on.” She hit my chest. “You’re doing it.”
Couldn’t tell you why I decided to give in. Maybe I needed some adventure too. Maybe I liked her. Maybe, I don’t know. I didn’t want to think about it, or anything. So I raced her across the ice, slipping and laughing the entire way. We both fell several times before landing safely on the other side. At the exact same time.
“I guess we both get a question.” She pulled a blanket from her bag and wrapped it around herself.
“Are we staying outside?”
“For a little.”
“But it’s freezing. We’ll turn into ice sculptures.”
She opened up the blanket. “I’ll share.”
Tempting. “No, thanks. You keep it.”
“Okay,” she said. “My question first. Describe your heart in three words and then describe why you chose each one.”
I thought about it, but the frosty air distracted me. “Can we go back to the coffee shop?”
“Will you answer there?”
I nodded. We stood and made our way back to warmth. I couldn’t help but notice her graceful walk. She glazed the city streets with her presence as I walked beside her, hands in my pockets. Her red hat accenting the grey world, a perfect painting in a not-so-perfect world.
We ordered hot chocolates and sat by the window again. A few other people congratulated her on her performance, then she finally asked me to answer her question.
I had some time to think, so I answered quickly. “Lonely, broken, and ready.”
She stopped smiling. “Sounds depressing. Why those three?”
Well, why not pour my heart out? Not like I’d ever see the girl again.
“You don’t have to answer,” she said.
“Lonely because my wife died before she ever learned to love me. Broken because the only other woman I allowed myself to love is sleeping with another man. And ready because I’m more than ready to move on with life and be happy again, without the help of a woman.”
She thought for a minute. “Well, it was a tie. So what do you want to ask me?”
“Same thing, I guess.”
“Broken, artificial, and hopeful.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Like you, unrequited love has a way of breaking hearts. Artificial because I’m pretty and people have always focused too much on my looks and not enough on who I am. Which means men want only my body and women hate me. Hopeful because I’m exhausted. I give myself constantly to others either on stage or in life, and well, it can only get better from here, right?”
“I know a few guys back home who wouldn’t look at you that way. In fact, I also know a guy who proposed to a gorgeous girl. Right after that they had a campfire accident and I doubt she will ever be physically gorgeous again.”
“Wow.” She picked apart a straw wrapper and played with the pieces on the table. “Did he stay with her?”
“Barely leaves her side to eat.”
“So why is the woman you fell in love with sleeping with another man?”
“I definitely don’t want to talk about that right now.” I wrapped my hands around my cold hot chocolate mug, wishing it were still warm. “Why don’t you tell me all about your depressing love story instead?”
“I’m an open book. Just a few pages glued together here and there.”
“So what happened?”
“Not sure. Greyson isn’t ready for marriage. I am. Different ideals and dreams, I guess. He is more into money and having a nice looking girl around his arm. I’m not like that.”
“Then why do you love him?”
“We’ve known each other since elementary school. Best friends through fifth grade. We never told each other we had crushes and then he moved away. His parents got divorced and his mom took him to Wisconsin. We lost touch until he came back here for college. I walked into my first class in college and sat next to him. No other seats in the class. We didn’t recognize each other at first, but I saw his name on his paper and the rest is history. We’ve been together on and off for almost a decade. Now we’re off again.”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. “Profound response.”
“I’m all out of deep today.”
“Anyway, people change. The boy I fell in love with twenty years ago is not the man I want to spend my life with.”
I liked her. Not in a romantic way. Refused to let my heart go there. But I liked her personality. Couldn’t understand why on earth a guy would choose anything over her, but to each his own.
“So,” she said. “I better get going. I have an audition to prepare for. Actually trying to make my way to New York.”