Chapter 17
Melanie
Alanna sits across from me in a worn, leather armchair. She twirls the braided leather cuff that’s around her wrist, a smile on her face. I’ve been seeing her since she transferred to Woodland High School one month ago. Her parents were worried about how she’d adjust coming in during the middle of the year. As the school social worker, I was called in to meet with her. This is our third session, and the most expressive I’ve seen her. Usually I’m the one doing most of the talking, mainly about her classes, her interests, and ways she can get involved and meet people.
“I joined the Creative Writing group, like you suggested,” she says.
“And?”
“And I like it. I’ve only been to one session so far.”
“That’s great. You’ll have a built-in critique group.”
“I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable sharing any of my work.”
“That’s OK. Maybe once you get to know them better.”
“Mmm hmm,” she says, as she doodles on her left wrist.
“How were the other students?” This is my subtle way of asking if she made any friends.
“Fine.” Old Alanna is back. She’s focused on the bird she’s drawing. The girl likes birds. She’s drawn one each time she’s been in my office.
“That’s really good. Anyway, did you connect with anyone else in the group?”
She nods. “Kind of. This boy, Colby. He seems really cool.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“Did you notice what kind of bird it is?”
“What?” I ask, confused by her change of topic.
She holds up her wrist.
I peer closer. “Is it a peacock?”
“Close.”
“Wait! I know. A Phoenix.”
She smiles. “It is.”
“They’re beautiful, magical birds,” I tell her. The bell rings, signaling the end of our session. “I’d love to hear more about Colby next time. See you next week.”
She grabs her light blue backpack covered with Sharpie drawings and slowly makes her way out of my office. “Bye, Miss Baxter.”
I like Alanna. She’s quiet, reserved, and very creative. She calls herself a writer, though she’s definitely an artist in my opinion. I don’t get the sense she’s quiet because she’s shy. I think she’s very smart and selective about what she shares. Like the Phoenix reference. Her meaning wasn’t lost on me. She reminds me of Lucy. I’d love to introduce them, but I don’t see that happening. Especially given Lucy’s recent state all because of that Mr. Anonymous, as she calls him. I wish I knew his name so I could give him a piece of my mind. I’ve never seen Lucy like this before. I don’t know what to do. Nothing seems to cheer her up. And God knows I’ve been trying.
I write up some notes from my session with Alanna and send her parents an update. I’m not allowed to give them specifics about what we discuss, but I can give an overall assessment. The theme this week is progress. Speaking of, I give Lucy a call on my way home from work to see about hers.
“Hi, Luce. It’s me.”
“Hi.”
“Just checking in.”
“I’m still here.”
“Not funny,” I tell her.
There’s silence on the line.
“I just met with a girl who moved here a month ago. Super smart and talented. She reminds me a lot of you.” More silence. “Her parents were worried about her starting a new school mid-way through. Especially during her junior year. She’s a writer but loves to draw. Birds of all things.”
“Oh.”
“You know what she drew today? A Phoenix.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. Because it means she’s growing, you know?”
“If you say so.”
“You know the story. How the Phoenix rises from the ashes, a rebirth? She’s accepting that she’s making a new life for herself. And she’ll be stronger this time.”
“Maybe she just likes birds.”
“No. She specifically told me it was a Phoenix. My point is, you can do the same. I hate what he did. And I hate that you’re hurting.” And I hate that there’s nothing I can do to help. I’m sick of men filling us with false hope. If he had been honest about his intentions, or lack thereof, we’d be having a very different conversation. But I try to keep things positive. “Luce, know this: you will rise above.”
“When? When will it get better?” she asks in a small voice.
“I don’t know. But it’s only been a month. You just need to give it time. Your heart is still healing.”
“It will never be fully healed. But it doesn’t matter. I’m never dating again.”
“Lucy Chalmers. You certainly will. I know it doesn’t feel like you can see past this, but not all men are like him. There are good guys out there. Ones who will cherish you and protect you with all they’ve got.”
“I’m serious, Mel. He told me getting over the heartbreak from his first love was the hardest thing he had to do. And he vowed never to do it again. I get it now. So I’m doing the same.”
“Well it seems as though he moved on,” I say bitterly.
“If only I had some answers I could move on too. I really thought he was into me. I keep replaying our weekend together over and over in my head. I know we agreed to no-strings attached sex, but what we shared went well beyond the physical. I don’t think I’m confusing sex with intimacy. We opened up to each other and talked about a future. He told me he was falling in love with me when he thought I was asleep. Why would he do that? Why say those words if he didn’t mean them? So maybe he hasn’t moved on from his first love. Maybe I was just a distraction. Maybe he said them in the heat of the moment but didn’t mean them. Or maybe I’m making him out to be something he wasn’t. I wanted to see things that were never there. Maybe he never said those words. I’m driving myself crazy with the possibilities.”
“Or maybe he saw potential with you and it freaked him out. Some guys just can’t do serious relationships.”
“This is why I’m going to be a spinster,” she says. I roll my eyes. “Are you rolling your eyes at me right now?”
“This isn’t a Facetime call, right?”
“I know you too well.”
“And I know you. So in a few months’ time you’re going to get back out there and date again. You won’t want to, but you will. Because you’re not a quitter.”
“I’m not quitting. I’m just opting out. People think spinsters are old ladies who are too mean or too ugly to land a man. But maybe they’ve chosen to be alone. And they’re not alone. They have cats. Speaking of, I’m going to adopt a cat. I’ll be an old cat lady.”
I laugh. “I’ll go with you to pick one out. I’m about to walk onto the elevator so I’ll lose you. Anything else you need, you call me.”
“There is one small favor.”
“Anything. What is it?”
“Can you cover for me at a work event on Friday? It’s a charity ball and I don’t feel like going and mingling. The thought of making useless small talk, I’m just not up for it.”
“Can’t you skip it?”
“Don paid for my ticket. He’s a big supporter of PAWS and it’s their annual Fur Ball. He couldn’t go, so I volunteered. I don’t want it to look like no one from Dreams showed up. Just wear my name tag, have a free drink, and then you can leave. Please. I figured it would be up your alley.”
“OK. I’ll go. Just text me the details.”
“Thanks, Mel.”
We hang up and I sigh. Lucy is my oldest and dearest friend. I hate seeing her this way. I know I had a hard time adjusting in the beginning, but I never wanted this for her. If I ever meet this Mr. Anonymous, I’m going to kick his ass.
Friday dawns and proves to be a crazy day. I had to split my time between the two high schools in the district. The other social worker’s mom is sick, so she took a short leave of absence. I’m covering some of her critical cases. After the day I’ve had I’m really in no mood to get dressed up and go to this cocktail event, let alone solo. But on the bright side it’s for PAWS, and I love animals.
I run home, freshen my hair and makeup, and change into my favorite cocktail dress. It’s bright and bold and I love it. No basic boring black for me. I’m not sure if I should put my hair up or leave it down. My hair is naturally wavy and there’s not a whole lot I can do with it. I decide to go with down and curl the front pieces with a large barrel iron to soften the look. I catch an Uber to the Drake and plan to stay forty-five minutes to an hour. Tops.
When the car pulls up I’m stunned to see pets in formal wear heading into the lobby. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that this is a pet-friendly event given it’s for PAWS, a local animal shelter. I head toward the ballroom and it’s filled with beautifully dressed people—and animals. There’s even a buffet just for dogs that I swear has crystal goblets. I find Lucy’s table card and put it in my purse. I take a few minutes to get my bearings and that’s when I notice him—a gorgeous guy surrounded by powerful looking men in suits. I try to catch his eye but he appears engrossed in his conversation. And he doesn’t look happy. So I move on. A few women stop me to comment on my dress so I chat with them for a bit. But I’d really like a cocktail. I extricate myself and decide to make a pit stop in the ladies room. On my way back I spot gorgeous guy again, this time alone, still wearing a scowl. He’s typing on his phone and has a bag hanging from his wrist. I have the ammunition I need.
“Excuse me. Where’d you get the swag bag?”
He glances at me and then back down at his screen.
“It’s only for sponsors. Sorry,” he says as he puts his phone to his ear. I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for taking a call or because I can’t get any swag. Either way, I take the hint. I head in search of the bar and order a glass of wine. Many people are waiting with their pets, so I find it easy to make small talk.
I finish my drink and decide I’ll have another before I go. While I’m standing in line a big black poodle comes over and sniffs me. Then he (or she?) promptly humps my leg. “Muffy!” its owner cries. “No!” The dog ignores her and goes about its business. I try to pry him off me but he won’t budge. She literally has to scoop Muffy off me. “Sorry,” she says before dragging the dog away. I’m mortified but have no one to laugh over the mishap with. Until I catch the eye of a gorgeous guy standing near the bar. It’s him: Swag Guy. He raises his glass to me and I smile in return. He says something to the bartender and heads in my direction with a wine glass. Yes!
“You looked like you could use this sooner rather than later. Sauvignon Blanc OK?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you. I would’ve walked away but didn’t want to lose my spot in line.”
“Apparently you have a fan.”
“Looks like it,” I say with a laugh.
“Smart dog,” he says, eyeing me as though for the first time.
“I’m Melanie.”
“Luke,” he says as he extends a hand. “Where’s your pet?”
“Pets. At home. I didn’t realize I could bring them. It’s an interesting event to say the least.”
“First time, I take it?”
“Yep. I’m here for a friend. She couldn’t make it and asked me to fill in. She forgot to mention the pet thing.”
“What kind of animals do you have?” he asks as he sets his drink down on a highboy.
“A dog and a cat.”
“Sounds dicey.”
“For the dog. She’s scared of her own shadow. Sheeba rules the household. That’s my cat,” I clarify.
“I figured.”
“What about you? I see you don’t have a companion either?” This is my attempt to get him to acknowledge if he’s here with a date. I’m really hoping not.
“I have a Bulldog, Martin. But he’s at home. My company is a corporate sponsor, so I thought it would be best to come without the distraction of an energetic puppy.”
“Oh. And there are no other companions?” I ask boldly.
“None at the moment.”
“Good. Because I’m in need of a dance partner. Care to offer your services?”
He seems hesitant. But then he smiles at me for the first time and I swear my breath catches in my throat. “Sure. But dancing doesn’t start until after dinner.”
“That’s too bad. I noticed on my way in there’s something like a pet spa. Want to check it out?”
“Sure. I could use a manicure.”
I take his hand and inspect his nails. “Very nice. Well groomed.”
“Do I get a treat?” he asks. He gives me a seductive smile that makes my body temperature rise.
“Maybe. Do you know any tricks?”
He leans in close and whispers, “Plenty.”
OK. I think I can manage to stay a bit longer. He offers me his arm and we stroll around, checking out the spa, which is called Paradise 4 Paws, and the buffet table. He has a confidence about him that’s utterly appealing—and sexy. It’s nice to see him more relaxed and the scowl he wore earlier is gone. I hope I had something to do with it. He also managed to score me a swag bag, which Sheeba and Otis will love. I didn’t think he noticed me because he was so quick to dismiss my presence initially, but I guess I caught him at a bad moment.
Finally it’s time for dancing and he spins me around on the floor. Somehow we wind up in the middle so I pull out all the stops. A crowd gathers around us and I’m dancing with a group of strangers. When the song ends I’m thrilled when Luke takes my hand and leads to me a table for a break. We exchange stories and I tell him about the time that I fell flat on my ass walking down the aisle at my friend’s wedding. He tries to top my story and we end up attempting to one-up each other with our tales of woe. We laugh a lot and soon I have tears running down my cheeks. He cradles my face and wipes them away with his thumbs, which turns a light moment more serious. It looks as if he’s going to kiss me, but then he seems to change his mind and doesn’t. I’m very disappointed by this fact. But still, I’m having a great time. I’m somewhat guilty about it, knowing Lucy is pining away by herself at home.
A woman comes by selling raffle tickets. I politely decline and Luke buys ten. “I hope you win,” I tell him. “If there’s a trip will you take me with you?”
He studies me for a moment. “We can go on a trip right now.”
I’m confused. “Where?”
“Upstairs. I’m staying here for the night.”
Shit. I like this guy. And I don’t want him to think of me as an easy lay. “I have to get up early tomorrow. Sorry. I should probably be going.”
“Don’t go. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Stay with me. You’re the most interesting thing about this event.”
I smile at him. “OK. As long as you buy me dessert.”
He laughs and leads me to the dessert table. While we’re in line I spot Muffy. “Quick! Hide me.”
“Oh, it’s your boyfriend.”
“I think Muffy is a girl.”
He quirks a brow at me. “Even better.”
I swat him gently on the arm. After dessert we dance some more and then I decide I should head home. I want to end things on a positive note.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell him. “Thanks for being my date tonight.”
“Thank you. And thank your friend for bailing. Her loss was my gain.”
I smile and pull him in for a hug. “Tell Muffy I say bye.”
He laughs as I saunter away. Please don’t let me go without asking for my number.
“Melanie, wait.” Thank God. “You can tell her yourself.” He nods in Muffy’s direction as she trots past us. You’ve gotta be kidding me.
“I guess she’s over me,” I say.
“I doubt that. Can I have your number?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I tease him.
He punches it in his phone and I leave for real this time.
The entire ride home my mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Luke and the magical night we shared.