What Love Looks Like (17 page)

16

 
Several
weeks passed, and little by little my fog of pain dissipated. Spring was alive,
and with the mild weather came a shift in my mind-set. As with any heartache,
the passing of time made the intense feelings fade. In my initial gloom, I
thought I’d never find the strength to heal, but at last, things were looking
up.

Early one spring
evening, I caught myself gazing out of my window at the astonishingly clear sky.
It was a refreshing change from incessant cloud cover and seemed to fit my new
attitude. True, I was alone again, but really that was by choice. Jay had
claimed he didn’t want to lose me, but I’d summoned the strength in the moment
to avoid believing him. He hadn’t called since our blow-up, but I was fairly
certain that if I reached out to him he’d be willing to talk. However, I'd
shifted my energy elsewhere after the pain surrounding him had dissolved. I
came out convinced that no man would ever hurt me so badly again, and I found
comfort in that. There was nowhere to go but up.

My spirits had
improved, but I still had a lot of soul-searching to do. My life until now had
been a series of roller-coaster rides in which my emotions dictated most of my
decisions. Fear had kept me from moving on in my career. Lust had sent me into
Jay’s arms even though I knew better. I had to overcome my feelings and start
making logical decisions instead of emotional ones. I would be twenty-nine in a
few short months, but it wasn’t too late; I could still lay the groundwork for
the rest of my life. I rejected the notion that Erica, Stacey, and everyone
else were further ahead on life’s path than I was; I wasn’t behind; I was on my
own path, going at my own pace, to my own destination.

I faced another
weekend alone, but the loneliness intimidated me less and less. If that was as
bad as life got, I could handle it. Not wanting to travel far for dinner, I
called in for takeout from Marcella’s. The girl who answered the phone knew my
order before I even gave her any information. I’d been there so many times
before that I no longer cared what the staff thought of my appearance. I didn’t
change out of my nubby cream-colored sweater or faded yoga pants with the
tie-dyed waistband before picking up my order. And I only made the look worse
when I stuffed my pants into my filthy rain boots.

Minutes later I
was alone at the bar. It was the first social contact I’d had in a day and a
half. As egocentric as it might have seemed, self-imposed isolation was my way
of coming back to life. I found it easier to put back the pieces without
opinions from my mother or my friends that I should be out at night trying to
meet someone new. A period of self-reflection and stillness was the best way to
repair my heart.

Sure, I’d been
hurt before, and the days after Jay’s deception had been some of my darkest. I
felt like an outcast, a pariah. Never had my painful past so heavily influenced
my present. But who I was in high school wasn’t who I was destined to be. I was
a survivor. I was worthwhile, whether Jay thought so or not. And the truth was,
I wouldn’t have changed a thing. If I hadn’t been bullied through high school,
I wouldn’t have become a compassionate adult. If I hadn’t gone through the ebbs
and flows of addictions, I wouldn’t have known moderation or true happiness. If
Jay hadn’t shattered my heart, someone else would have. Now that the greatest
heartbreak I’d known was behind me, I felt confident in moving toward a newer,
brighter future. I was so lost in that understanding that I almost didn’t hear
my name being called from the other end of the bar.

“Elle,” a man’s
deep voice said.

        
I
looked up, and there was Ryan, also seated alone a few bar stools away.

        
“Hey,”
I said, quickly trying to fluff my hair and adjust my sweater to make myself
slightly more presentable.

        
“What
are you doing here?” He didn't flinch at my tasteless outfit and messy hair.

        
“Just
picking up some dinner to go,” I said, embarrassed. Surely a woman my age
looking a fright and picking up takeout for one from a place usually reserved
for dates didn’t look like the picture of contentment.

        
“Well,
that’s convenient.”

        
“Yep,
it’s a quick trip down from the second floor.”

        
“It
must get loud on the weekends.”

        
“Yeah,
it’s hard to sleep sometimes,” I said. “So what are you doing here?” I was
trying to remove the focus from my pathetic-looking existence.

        
“I
actually got off work early tonight, so I came over for a drink. One of my
college buddies is a bartender here.” He pointed to a cute guy behind the bar
I’d seen many times before when picking up takeout.

        
“That’s
nice. Do you come here often?” It sounded more like a pick-up line than an
informal question.

        
“Nah.
I almost never get out early enough to come here. I think the last time I went
out for drinks was at the award ceremony we went to.”

        
“Well,
funny running into you, then, because I hardly ever come in here either.” I was
flat-out lying.

        
“Sit
down and stay a while. I’ll buy you a drink.”

        
“Oh,
you don’t have to do that,” I said. A few days earlier, I’d resolved that I
wouldn’t allow men to continue to buy me drinks every time I went out. It
seemed to only get me into trouble.

        
“Please,
you bring so much business into my restaurant. It’s the least I can do.”

        
“Well,
okay.” Ryan was just a friend, so I’d amend my rule slightly. “Thank you. I
could use a little distraction, as a matter of fact.”
     

        
“Is
everything all right?” He stood up and pulled out the bar stool next to him so
I could sit down. He had chivalry down to an art form.

        
“Yeah,”
I felt a lump form in my throat for the first time in a few days. “Everything’s
fine. It’s just . . . guy trouble.”

        
“The
guy from New York?”

        
“Yes,
Jay.”

        
“What
happened?” he asked. “I thought everything was going great.”

        
“He
stopped calling, stopped texting, and blew off our next trip. Oh, and he
cheated on me.
And I just don’t
understand why because he seemed so into me. But I’m getting better every day.
I mean, how long can I wallow in the sadness?”

        
“He
cheated on
you?
What a dick. Pardon
my language. But he’s crazy. You’re a total catch.”

        
I
blushed. “Stop,” I said, smiling.

        
“I
mean it. That guy’s a moron. He has no idea what he’s missing.”

        
Suddenly,
I was overcome with disgust for Jay and the way he'd treated me. How dare he?
Even Ryan said I was a catch. Jay Conrad could drop dead for all I cared. “You
know what? I don’t even want to talk about him,” I said. “How are things with
you?”

        
“Good,
I guess. I’m ready for summer. I’m so sick of the cold.”

        
“I’m
ready for that too, except I actually love the cold.”

        
“You
do? You’re one of the only people I’ve ever heard say that.”

        
“Yeah,
living here we just have to embrace it. Plus, I’m obsessed with Christmas and
that time of year. I just love anything warm and cozy. Oh, and I
love
eggnog and the flavors of fall and
winter food.”

        
“That’s
cute.” Ryan said, laughing. “I’ve never had eggnog before.”

“That’s crazy
talk! In December, I’m going to come find you and make you try some.”
When
the bartender came over, I ordered a dirty martini and specifically requested a
garnish of blue cheese olives. My hope was that they’d tide me over until I got
home and inhaled my takeout. Plus, vodka martinis made me upbeat and happy
. Of
course the hangovers were wicked, but it was worth it just to have a
break from my unremitting self-analysis.

I chugged my
drink quickly and promptly ordered another. As much as I was trying to let go
of my bad habits, I couldn’t resist a drink at one of my favorite places with a
good friend. Ryan slowly sipped his beer and allowed me to dominate the
conversation. Within minutes, he knew about my frustration with the company we
both worked for, he knew I’d grown tired of living downtown because of the
noise and anonymity, and he knew that I was turning twenty-nine in just a few
short months. I was rambling and whining, and yet he listened as though I was
telling some gripping story.

“I would be so
much better at my job if corporate didn’t want me to turn in a report every
five minutes,” I said. “Sometimes I wish I worked for myself.”

I was hoping
he’d join me in bashing East Coast Prime, but no vitriol escaped his lips. That
was another habit I needed to correct: complaining. I could sit there and bitch
about my life, or I could actually do something to change it—a more
effective strategy.

“You should work
for yourself,” he said, “you’d be great at planning weddings and all that
stuff.”

“You think so? I
don’t know. Owning your own business in this economy is a crapshoot.”

“Yeah, but if I
had an opportunity to open my own restaurant, I’d do it. Except that it costs a
fortune. Huge overhead. What you’re talking about wouldn’t cost much to start
up at all.”

“Maybe next
year,” I said. “For now, I can barely afford my rent, so the thought of
inconsistent income is terrifying.”

“Don’t be
scared. You’ll be successful no matter what you do. You’re smart, talented,
personable, and beautiful.”

        
“Well,
thank you, you’re sweet.”

        
“I’m
not saying it to be sweet. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

        
We
both had another drink (his second, my third) and continued to learn even more
about each other than we already knew. I was so pleased that Ryan and I had
surpassed being just coworkers, and not just because he was good company when I
most needed someone impartial, but also because he was a damn good guy. I’d
been so hung up on my aching heart that I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was to
discover new things about someone, even when you were just friends, and to
reveal myself to someone else too.

        
When
our conversation turned to pets, I said, “Luna is the sweetest dog. I was lost
before I had her.”

        
“And
now you’re found?”

        
“I’m
not sure that I’m exactly found, but I’m finding my way.”

        
“Dogs
do that,” Ryan said. “They make your life better. I hate when I have a crazy
week because then I have to leave Woody at the kennel.”

        
“What
kind of dog is he?”

        
“German
shepherd mix.”

        
“He
would eat Luna as an appetizer.”

        
“Nah,
he’s a teddy bear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

        
Ryan
didn’t instantly strike me as the dog-loving, outdoorsy type, but he was
definitely a guy's guy. He was so tall and so well built. He had to have been a
high school athlete. He looked as if he worked out, but not to the insane point
of having just 4 percent body fat the way Jay did. In reality, Jay was more
emaciated than anything else. But Ryan was the strong and masculine type, and
he seemed so comfortable with his imposing stature. It was as if he wouldn’t be
afraid to use his strength if he had to, but in other situations he might not
even know how powerful he was.

“Is Luna
upstairs right now?” he asked.

        
“Yeah,
she is, probably wondering where the hell I am.”

        
“Let’s
go see her.”

        
“You
want to come upstairs to my apartment?” I mentally scanned it, trying to
remember if I’d left out any old food, dishes in the sink, or panties on the
bathroom floor.

        
“Well,
not like the way you’re saying it,” he said, laughing, “but yeah, I’d love to
meet her.”

        
“Okay.
Let’s get the check.” The check came and Ryan insisted on paying for the whole
thing, including my takeout, even though I protested.

        
He
followed me outside and then upstairs to my apartment and commented on how nice
the building was. Luna bounded into my arms when I opened the door, and Ryan
laughed as she vigorously licked me on the lips. “She’s like this all the
time,” I said.