"It's like, he will be what you want him to be. If you want him to be rough, he'll do that. If you want him to be a little soft, take it easy, he'll do that,” Emerson continues to gush and I feel a tinge of jealousy. “And the best part is you don't have to request anything, you don't have to tell him what you want. It's like, he knows intuitively as soon as he gets with you."
"Ah," I exhale loudly. I thought that we shared a real spark but I guess that wasn’t the case.
“Don’t let that get you down,” she says. “This place is great, you're going to meet lots of other people."
"I know. I just, I don't know. I came here thinking that this is what I want. I want to have a good time. I want to forget what happened and here I am talking to you about the first guy I met and thinking about how I'm not going to be able to see him again for six months and I'm sorry about that.”
"But just because it's not Dante doesn't mean that you're not going to meet someone amazing, okay?” Emerson says. “A lot of people here are very good and the couples, you should give them a chance. They're very giving and you know, you don't have that same pressure you do with guys one-on-one. And since you're the guest star, you can just sort of lie there and let it happen if you want. If that's your thing."
"The thing is I don't even know what my thing is,” I say, nodding.
I finish my drink and ask for another round. Two guys approach us, as she turns around to flirt with one, she introduces me to Ross.
He's tall, broad shouldered, and looks like he works out. He has kind eyes and a short crew cut that actually frames his face well. He has a little bit of last night's stubble and I like the way that he rubs his chin when he talks.
I turn my attention to Ross and the guy who had approached me leaves without saying a word. He's halfway away from me, before I reach to apologize, so I just shrug it off.
Ross and Emerson flirt a lot. They bring me in on the conversation and then suddenly, Emerson glides her hand over my arm and pulls me closer to Ross who reaches down and gives me a kiss.
It feels nice, romantic but also a little bit forced on my part. I kiss him back but the tension and the feeling isn't there.
I guess he senses that as well because he turns his attention almost exclusively to Emerson who reciprocates his every advance.
"Do you want to join us?" she asks, grabbing my hand again and standing up. "We're going to head to one of the rooms in the back."
"Um, no thanks. I'm just going to stay here for a little bit.” I nod.
She smiles and nods then says, "Let me give you my card just in case you want to get in touch and get some coffee sometime, okay? And talk."
I nod. "Thanks."
I slip her card into my purse and watch her walk away with Ross, their arms draped around each other's backs and suddenly, I feel incredibly lonely.
It's not supposed to be like this.
When I came here, I thought that everything was going to be amazing and I was going to have a good time again.
What I did not know was that I was actually just looking forward to being with Dante.
Oh, I feel so stupid, and like such a loser. I came here with every intention of doing the opposite of that; of meeting people, just for one thing, no strings attached.
And then here I am walking around comparing every single man I meet to the one that blew me off my feet.
Cassandra meets up with me when she sees me at the coat check and hands me my jacket. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just not feeling up to it today."
"Okay. Well, I hope that no one made you feel uncomfortable."
“No, actually I met a really nice girl, Emerson, but I just, I'm not ready to be with a girl," I say in a half whisper, "and I'm just not in the right head space."
"Yes, of course. We want you to be as comfortable as possible. This is totally normal."
I nod, putting on my jacket.
"Will we see you at the masquerade ball," she asks, "this Saturday?"
"I'm going to think about it. Is there something that I have to wear?"
"Well, of course, feel free to dress however you like."
"Is it like a Halloween party?" I ask.
"No, just formal attire and a Venetian mask should do."
"Okay. Thanks. I'll think about it."
I go out to my car and as soon as I get in, I burst into tears.
"Stop. Stop crying," I keep saying to myself out loud. "This is nuts. You wanted to be there. Why are you making this so complicated?”
I turn on the music really loud and let Gwen Stefani take me away to a less angry place. After a few minutes, my tears dry and I drive to Lemons, my favorite bar, hoping to see Allison there.
Sure enough, I find her in the corner with Danny Morenko, her latest romantic interest. It's been two weeks and they are still at the height of their honeymoon.
She waves me over, and we talk about work and life, and I have a few more drinks and a basket of curly fries, and try to forget about everything that happened.
9
Jacqueline
When I get home and start to tiptoe through the house, I spot the light on in the kitchen. I find Mom sitting there, her hair hanging loosely around her head, her gray roots coming showing up in thick clumps around the crown of her head.
"Hey, what are you doing up?" I ask, putting my purse on the table. She immediately gives me a little bit of side-eye and I move to the chair.
I look over to our ancient refrigerator, which breaks at least once every year or so that we keep planning on replacing without actually making the commitment to do so.
"Couldn't sleep," Mom says.
My mom is dressed in her favorite plush bathrobe and her royal blue silk pajamas are slightly visible underneath. They were this year's Christmas gift from Michael and she practically lives in them.
My mom is in her sixties and incredibly stylish. When things were going well, she never missed an appointment at the salon or the manicurist.
She's always been good with her hands and crafty and that's why the house looks as good as it can look given its age and state of deterioration.
"How was everything?" she asks, pulling herself away from her Kindle for a moment.
She has always been an avid reader, but ever since she got sick and hasn't been able to get much exercise due to chemotherapy and a lack of energy, she has become what I lovingly call a rabid reader. She devours a book, sometimes two, three a day. It's her primary source of entertainment.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
She shrugs, pulls out a little clear lip gloss tube from her pocket, and lines her lips.
"So-so today. I went on a walk trying to get those 5,000 steps, but only managed to do 3,000."
"Well, that's great. I mean, any little bit helps."
"Yeah. It's just pathetic, you know? I used to be so mobile, so active."
"Yeah, I know. Well, listen, I'm proud of what you're doing and how far you're getting, given the circumstances."
We are both dancing around her diagnosis, not really mentioning it on purpose. She has had chronic illness issues for a long time. That's part of the reason why it was so important for her to stay fit and active. Many years ago, before we moved to this house, we lived in another one a few miles away and my mom would constantly get sick there.