“Let’s see if we can find the others,” Teresa yells over the crowd. Jen and I met her at her apartment, and Melisa, Patrick, Megan and the other guys were supposed to meet us here. We fight our way through swarms of people until Teresa finds Bradley and his friends. I recognize a few of them from the party we had a few months ago, particularly the young one who seemed so eager to see me draw. We’re reintroduced, and I learn his name is Shawn. He singles me out immediately and hugs me as if we are long lost friends.
“How are you doing, Emi?” he asks.
“Great, you?”
“Fine,” he smiles. “It’s good to finally see you again.”
“Oh,” I say, a little taken aback, “you too.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure, a glass of merlot, please,” I request. I glance to see if my sister wants anything, but she’s already being dragged onto the dance floor by another of Bradley’s friends. Teresa and her date follow them. I survey the club for the rest of our friends, in near-panic mode that I might have to be alone with Shawn, that I might be expected to have an actual conversation with him. Calm down. Calm down. You’re being silly.
“Your wine,” he says, handing me my drink and setting his glass down on the table next to us. I fight with my emotions to force the sides of my lips to curl upwards. This really shouldn’t be so difficult. “You seem sad... or tense,” he says, picking up on my mood immediately. He walks behind me and starts rubbing my shoulders. His touch is strange, rough, but it feels nice and I don’t have to talk to him while he’s massaging the knots out of my muscles. Calm down. I take a large, long sip of my drink.
“Thank you,” I tell him when he eases up.
“My pleasure,” he says. “Do you want to dance, or would you rather hang out here?”
“Sit, for now,” I say. He pulls the chair out for me. I don’t know if chivalry can be faked, but his actions just seem... selfish? Is that the right word? Like he’s only doing these things for personal gain. Poor guy. Maybe I should let him know right now he will get nowhere with me tonight... or probably ever.
“Have you done any cool projects lately?” he asks, and again I question his motives on such a simple inquiry. Have I become so cynical that I don’t believe that a man can be genuinely interested in what I do? I try to clear my head of my preconceived notions. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be among other people tonight. I should be home, alone. I’m just not feeling this.
“Nothing really interesting,” I tell him with little enthusiasm. “I’m being considered to be the lead illustrator for a CD, though. That’s pretty cool.”
“Really? Whose?”
“Oh, it’s just some small independent album. Nothing major.”
“That’s cool,” he nods. “So you got your own place, Teresa said?”
“Yeah,” I respond. “I have a loft a few blocks from the old apartment. My sister and niece and I share it for now.”
“Cool,” he says. “Where is it?”
“It’s off 5th,” I say nonchalantly, but realize any loft off 5th Avenue will raise the eyebrows of people in my circle of friends.
“Wow? You must be doing really well,” he laughs.
I shake my head and smile. “No, it’s not like that,” I say, not wanting to get into the details. “It was a friend’s place. I’m just staying there for awhile.” Fortunately, he doesn’t ask any more questions about it.
“Maybe I can see it sometime,” he says... and it just seems... forward.
“Maybe,” I say politely as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up to see Megan, Melisa and Patrick. “Hey, guys!” I stand up and hug them all, grateful that they’re here now, hoping they’ll join Shawn and me at the table.
“Em, how are you?” Melisa asks, her eyes filled with that familiar look of concern and sympathy.
I just nod, and that seems to be a good enough answer for her.
“I’m happy to hear it,” she says. “Is Teresa here?”
“Yeah, they’re already out dancing.”
“Well, I think we’ll hit the floor, too.”
“Are you sure?” I ask with a little too much eagerness. “You don’t want to join us for a drink first?”
“I will,” Patrick says, “but the girls have been dying to go dancing for weeks.”
“Cool. Patrick, this is Shawn, I don’t know if you remember him from the party?”
“Sure, Shawn,” he says, shaking his hand. “I’m going to get a drink. Merlot, Emi?”
“Please,” I say, eyeing my half-empty glass.
“Shawn, you good?” he asks as he starts to walk away, not even waiting for his response.
“I’m fine,” Shawn yells, even though his glass is empty. I sit back down.
“So,” I start, attempting to find something interesting to talk about. “Have you wanted to be a fireman all your life?” I realize my question almost sounds like I’m mocking him.
“No,” he smiles. “I was in college, sort of struggling for direction. And then the attacks happened... and I just felt moved to become a New York firefighter. I actually moved here from Texas, and I’ve never looked back.” Maybe he’s not so selfish after all.
“That’s great,” I say warmly. I can’t help but feel a little more respect for him... and I feel worse personally for judging him too soon. “Texas, huh? You don’t have much of an accent,” I notice.
“Well,” he says with obvious twang, “I try to tone it down for y’all.” He winks at me. “We don’t all sound like hicks.”
“Obviously,” I say. Patrick sets down the glass of wine in front of me before taking a seat next to me, scooting in closely.
“Thanks.” I finish my first glass quickly and start on the second.
“So, Patrick,” Shawn says loudly across the table. “What do you do?”
“Account executive for an ad agency,” he says, barely making eye contact. Shawn nods. Patrick puts his arm across my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “You having fun?”
I shrug and nod.
“Is he bugging you?” he asks. “We can move to another table.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“If you’ll excuse me a second,” Shawn says, standing. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I say, a little concerned that he knew we were talking about him. Shawn walks toward the restrooms.
“Let’s go dance,” Patrick says, standing up.
“Um, I’ll meet you out there, okay? I’m going to go the ladies room first.”
“Alright,” he concedes. “I think everyone’s around that corner,” he says pointing across the club, then heading that direction. I finish the second glass of wine and make my way over toward the bar. The alcohol seems to be clearing my mind of the sadness... I know it’s not healthy, but it seems like all I can do to survive at the moment. I find a tiny opening and squeeze through, my shoulders pressed against a woman to my left and a man on my right. I just meekly watch the bartenders, in hopes that one will notice me and take my order. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I’ve lost my courage to even order a drink. I stand there at least five minutes, being passed over repeatedly.
The bartender points at the man next to me and asks what he’s drinking.
“Stella, and the lady will have a glass of Bellei Lambrusco, if you have it,” he says, gesturing in my direction. I look over to see Jack smiling at me. His friendly and familiar face is a welcome sight to my tired eyes.
“Hey!” I say to him, surprised. “Um, thank you. I didn’t see you there!”
“How are you doing, Emi?” His eyes are warm, concerned.
“Good,” I say instinctively. “You?”
“Fine,” he says. “Are you here with friends?”
“Yeah, Jen and Teresa and the whole crew,” I tell him. “Who are you here with?”
“Marie and an old sorority sister of hers,” he says, and I can sense a little frustration in his voice.
??
?You don’t sound like you’re having a lot of fun,” I notice.
“I’m not big on this place.”
“You don’t dance?” I ask.
“I prefer a different kind of dancing,” he points out and I nod. The bartender puts our drinks down and I hand him my credit card. He looks at Jack, who takes my card from the bartender and tells him to put it on his tab. “I’ve got this one.”
“Next round’s on me,” I say. Jack stands up and offers me his seat. “I’m fine,” I tell him, but he insists that I take the chair.
“I hope it’s not weird for me to tell you this, but you look incredibly beautiful,” he says to me, leaning closely toward me, his arm resting on the back of the chair. His fingers brush my arm for a brief second. I’m pretty sure I feel my heart skip a beat... and I haven’t felt anything like that in months. I’m immediately confused. I shouldn’t feel things like that.
“Thanks,” I say softly, looking into my wine glass.
His hand touches my chin and lifts my head upwards. Whoa. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to look happy, his eyes locking on mine. Again, I feel it. It’s the strangest thing. This guy has been in and out of my life for months and he’s never had an effect on me. Maybe it’s the wine. I’m really not sure what’s happening. He clears his throat and looks away.
“So, we’ve got reservations at Buddakan next Saturday,” he says. I look at him, obviously confused. “Chris and Anna’s dinner? Remember?”
“Right,” I laugh, embarrassed. “Buddakan, Saturday. And did we decide who all is going to be there?”
“Chris and Anna. You and Jen, and guests, if you want. Marie and I. Our college fraternity brother, Russell, and his girlfriend. And one of Anna’s friends and her husband. No parents,” he reminds me. “Just friends. And I’ll give the restaurant the final number on Monday.”
“Right,” I repeat. “I can say with certainty that Jen and I won’t be bringing guests.” We had made all of these decisions a few weeks ago over a few email messages, but after a relatively sleepless night, I was pretty– well, absent– from the whole conversation. When he picked up on how tired I was that day when my responses seemed to make very little sense, he said he would handle everything... and obviously he has. “Thanks for putting this all together... it’s still a surprise, right?”
“Yes, they don’t know. I invited them over to watch a baseball game, so that’s where they think they’re going... only I’m going to have a driver pick them up...”
“Wow, Anna agreed to go watch a game on TV?”
“Well, I told her Marie wanted to get to know her a little better. You know how gracious Anna is.”
“Yes, I do,” I tell him. “How are things with Marie?” I remember the gorgeous, dark-complected woman that he had brought to Chris and Anna’s apartment on my birthday. I’m just plain and mousey compared to her. Wait, why am I comparing myself to her?
Jack hesitates and glances down quickly at his beer. “Uhhh...” he starts. “Okay, I guess.”
I watch his expression and remain quiet, hoping that he’ll expand on his answer.
“Maybe it’s just too early to say, but I don’t feel a real connection with her,” he says. “I shouldn’t be talking about her like this,” he immediately amends his response. “It’s rude.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling bad that I asked the question.
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just need to figure some things out, that’s all,” he smiles and takes a drink. I sit silent for a few minutes, just listening to the loud music and the hum of the crowd. My eyes catch sight of a couple at the end of the bar. Their faces are close, they’re smiling gently, talking. They exchange a sweet, short kiss. I sigh heavily, but can’t take my eyes off of them. I remember the picture of Nate and I, the one that he had with him in LA. This couple reminds me of that picture. Reminds me of my love... reminds me of my baby.
“What are you thinking about?” Jack asks. I watch him avert his attention to the couple at the end of the bar. He looks back at me.
“I just miss that,” I tell him, sadness taking over. “I wonder if I’ll have that again.” The tears start to form, and I’m immediately angry with myself for getting emotional.
“Let’s go get some air,” Jack suggests, taking the empty glass from me and setting it on the bar, picking up my hand, and leading me to the club’s private patio. His hand is soft and warm, his grip tight on mine. With how crowded the club is, we’re both surprised to find that we’re the only two people taking advantage of the quiet outdoor space. He pulls out a chair for me to sit in, and he takes a seat across from me. As he drops my hand, a ring I was wearing falls off. He picks it up and sets in on the table in between us, occasionally fumbling with it between his fingers.
“It doesn’t fit me anymore,” I explain with a shrug.
“Obviously,” he laughs. “So, back to our conversation... you seem a little down tonight, Emi,” he says with concern.
“Yeah, I am,” I swallow hard. “I’m not really up to talking about it, I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry for prying,” he says. “But if I may... you will have that again someday.”
“You think?” I half-laugh.
“Undoubtedly,” he says. “Any man would be lucky to have you.” Our eyes meet again, linger. This is wrong, crazy. I must be projecting feelings on to him. He’s my brother’s friend. He’s beyond gorgeous, exudes confidence... yet somehow isn’t arrogant at all. I mean, he’s a nice guy, yes, but I’ve never thought of him in this way. Maybe it’s just because I feel so horribly lonely and vulnerable tonight. It doesn’t feel right, though. Yet, it does in a strange way– like there is someone who is actually perceptive enough to know something’s wrong, and bold enough to inquire about it... like there is someone that might actually... care? I mean, it feels wrong, but then again, it doesn’t.
“Thanks... and you’re not prying,” I tell him. “I appreciate your concern, really.”
He smiles. “If you ever want to talk...”
“Thank you.” I glance around, taking in our surroundings, checking out the street below. When I peek back at him, our eyes meet again, and the blush rises in my cheeks. Quickly, I look away.
“Wonder if it’s going to rain,” Jack comments, filling the silence with a neutral topic.
“It sort of smells like it,” I say, eager to join the conversation. “I haven’t heard a forecast in days.”
“The paper said it wouldn’t come until tomorrow.”
“Hmmm...” I add. After a few more minutes of silence, we hear the music change to something down-tempo.
“Now, this is the kind of music I like to dance to,” he says with a small smile. “Should we go join our friends?” he asks. I don’t want to leave him, I feel safe with him, comfortable... a way I haven’t felt in a very long time. I know it’s all wrong. He is here with a date, for God’s sake– a date that he wants to slow dance with, no less. And I shouldn’t be thinking about him in this way! I can only attribute it to the wine. I don’t want to leave him, but at the same time, I know I have to.
“I think so,” I say, knowing it’s for the best. He opens the door to the club for me and follows me in. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime, Emi.” He extends his arms to hug me, and I gladly embrace him. I hold on tightly.
“I needed that,” I whisper in his ear, part of me hoping he can’t hear, the other part hoping he won’t let go of me. He pulls back slightly, a look of surprise evident on his face, but instead of speaking, we begin moving together to the slow song. He pulls me in closer. The way he moves, it’s as if we’ve done this before. Did we dance at the engagement party? I consider asking, but remain quiet, wanting to forget that one night that I’ll never be able to. Neither of us utters a word. I put my head on his chest, and he gently runs his fingers through my hair, a gesture so simple... and yet, I’m overwhelmed with emotions.
“There you are!”
Shawn exclaims, interrupting the intensity of the moment. Jack and I immediately leave our embrace and take a step away from each other. I quickly wipe away a tear. “Where have you been?” he asks.
“Oh, I ran into my friend, Jack, at the bar. We just went to the patio for some fresh air. It’s just so loud in here!” I explain as Jack’s expression changes from contentment to worry when he sees that I was crying.
“We were looking for you! Let’s go dance!” he says, pulling me away from Jack.
Jack finds my other hand before I’m out of reach. He stops Shawn’s forward motion, and I feel like I’m trapped between the two of them. “Emi, take care of yourself,” he says.
“I will,” I tell him.
“So, I’ll see you next Saturday at Buddakan?” he adds.
“I’ll be there,” I smile. “Oh, and I probably owe you a drink.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he says, a sad smile on his face as he backs away into the crowd, undoubtedly to find his date.
When Shawn and I find our group, we join the circle of dancers. Everyone is having so much fun, and I struggle to match their energy, my own sorrow just weighing me down. Sad about Nate. Sad about the baby. And sad that I had to leave that safe and familiar place that was with... wait, with Jack? How did this happen? When did this happen? I’m buzzed. I’m lonely. I don’t really feel that way about him.
Patrick and Shawn take turns buying the next few rounds of drinks, and after another hour, I’m exhausted and more than a little drunk.
“Let’s go back to my apartment,” Teresa suggests. “The drinks are cheaper.” I look across the circle at my sister, whose attention is all but consumed by one of Bradley’s friends. They agree to go to Teresa’s, as do the other firefighters and Megan, Melisa and Patrick.
“I think I’m going to head home,” I tell everyone.
“Do you need me to go with you?” Jennifer asks.
“No, I’ll be fine. I’m just tired.”
“Okay,” Jen says, obviously relieved that she doesn’t have to come home with me. “Don’t wait up,” she leans in and tells me. I roll my eyes, but know she’s going to do what she wants anyway. Nothing I’ve ever said has changed her mind.