Time moved forward for me, except in my most recent work meeting. I glanced between Lindsay and the clock in our conference room. She had lectured us for ninety minutes. Ninety minutes of my life I was not getting back, repeating the same thought in infinite synonyms, as if we were incapable of understanding with her initial attempt eighty-nine minutes ago. The waistband of my nylons pressed too tightly into my skin while we received Lindsay’s lecture. It was safe to assume the appeasing smile on my face was fake and under my wool shift-dress I was a massive ball of discomfort.
“And let’s not forget that the districts are expecting these changes by the end of January, so that leaves little time for us to get our proposal through the Department,” Lindsay continued. “That being said, we have a new project. Avery and Andrew have been nominated to attend the December convention with me in Florida.” What? Florida? No. Crap.
“Wow,” Andrew’s posture straightened, “that’s an amazing opportunity. Thank you, Lindsay.” He can take my ticket too. I’m not going to Florida.
“Where exactly in Florida is it this year?” Cooper questioned, his blue eyes glancing curiously over the bifocals gracing his narrow nose. Let me guess.
“The University of Miami is hosting it this year. I think they’ll have presenters from South Carolina, Montana, New York…the list goes on.” Lindsay tapped her chin as she recalled details of the convention. “It’s only two days, so don’t pack your swimming suits.” I politely laughed at her comment. You won’t find me anywhere on a beach in Miami. Too many billboards. Once our meeting finished, Andrew and I quickly discussed a project he was completing for Cooper. Stephanie was the last out of the conference room, her cheeks blushing as she approached Andrew and me.
“Hi,” she giggled to Andrew. “I really like what you said about the reading program in there.” I looked up from Andrew and observed Stephanie’s flirting. Eye roll. When the day was done, I ran to catch my bus on University Avenue. It was crowded, filled to the seams with people heading home, and with nowhere for me to sit. I sullenly waited for the next twenty minutes to pass as I clung to the safety bar.
The walk from the bus stop to my building was frigid, and I quickly started making a warm meal once inside. The stovetop sizzled when water danced over the pot, distracting me from my stupor. I zoned out, sitting on the windowsill in my kitchen, tapping my phone against my chin. I considered calling Declan after such a monotonous day of work, but I felt so lethargic that I didn’t want to leave home…and I didn’t want to see anyone. Declan and I never established monogamy, and we’d only been on a few dates. I wasn’t sure if I could, or should, call him.
The glacial December breeze was refreshing with its icy ventilation against the uncontrollable radiator lining the wall opposite my bed. It woke me enough to slide toward the stove and break my egg noodles over the boiling water. I ate the bland soup in my chair with the hissing radiator as my evening companion.
***
Our dysfunctional dinner was rescheduled from last Sunday to Wednesday due to a conflict in Lizzie’s personal life requiring her to be out of town the entire weekend. I was glad dinner would be at The Tavern, where I could indulge in warm, comforting food of no nutritional value and then leave when I felt my stomach could take no more. Lizzie was the last to join us for dinner, her black knit cap covered in melting flakes of snow.
“I’m getting out of here,” she reminded us. I smiled and nodded, not wishing to poke the bear that was Lizzie’s unenthusiastic attitude. She climbed in the booth next to me, clinging to my warmth. I rested my head on her shoulder as a quick greeting before returning my attention to Ella. The latest in her adventure to terrorize her boss at the Children’s Theater involved a suspicious plot to misplace all of the staplers and correction fluid. In all, it was an unproductive afternoon supporting the artistic development of local children. Jesse returned to our table with an unnecessarily large tray and began handing out slices of gooey and poisonously delicious pizza. He looked adorable in his green striped suspenders latched to his green trousers. Clearly he’d changed since work, as this was a far different look from his suits and ties.
“Get this,” Ella squealed. “Ave’s going to Miami for two days.”
“No way. You know what’s in Miami, don’t you?” Lizzie snickered, reaching for the glass of water at her place setting.
“Tanned bastards.” I took a bite out of the most delicious slice of pizza as it oozed oil down my hand. Jesse tossed some napkins in my direction, his mouth and arm also drooling with pizza.
“What’s this?” he asked, resuming his place in our dialogue. I rolled my eyes, willing Ella and Lizzie not to mention Miami.
“I’m going away in a few weeks to Florida for a conference.”
“The reading one?” Jesse clarified, nodding in acknowledgement.
“When is it? Do you have enough time to get into a bikini?” Lizzie teased.
Considering I was mid-bite into my slice of pizza, I replied, “Not on the top of my list.”
“Speaking of Florida,” Ella’s eyes flickered to Jesse, full of hope, “have you heard from Sean?”
“We video messaged earlier in the week. He’s spending every day on the beach, drinking daiquiris and watching the babes.”
“I want a trust fund,” Ella grumbled and pretended to pout. “Must be nice.”
“Deep down, Ella, you love your job. You wouldn’t quit if the lottery came knocking,” I attempted to reassure her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at me.
“I’d take the money and run.” She giggled. Lizzie reached for another slice of pizza, violently shaking out the bottle of crushed red pepper to create an additional layer on the crust.
“How did he look?” I inquired, thinking of his illness, and the night we spent together, but I flushed when all eyes fell on me. Even Lizzie stopped chewing for a few seconds.
“I mean,” I corrected, hoping to save face, “was he all tan and Sean?” Jesse snickered in agreement while nodding at me.
Throughout the rest of our meal, I felt nervous about going to Florida. Of all the places I could go to bump into Sean after the last night we spent together, it was not on the beach in Miami where he was residing in a personal exile. It puzzled me. If he was sick, why did he disappear? Shouldn’t he be in a hospital somewhere? Shouldn’t he be getting chemotherapy or having surgery? I was nauseous. Was it pointless to attempt anything because he was already so sick? Was it too late? I want to see him. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. He was killing me, and I couldn’t be there to help fight what was actually killing him.
***
After a day of traveling on the bus to Chicago for my nonstop flight to Miami, I was thankful to not be on the same flight as Andrew and Lindsay so I could pretend for at least five hours that I was on a solo vacation, traveling somewhere delightfully exotic where I would lay on the beach and escape the harsh Wisconsin winter. Hardly. In just a few hours, I would be crammed in an overly air-conditioned convention hall with my coworkers and hundreds of educators from around the country.
That was essentially it, and I struggled to get into any of it with my heart left across the country. I made polite conversation with people at our table from California and Massachusetts. I hate polite conversation. I tried to focus on the speakers as we rotated through venues and discussions, but my mind blurred when exposed to all things work.
My hotel room was across the street from South Beach, where I knew I most certainly would not acclimate considering my already pale skin was near transparent with the gray winter. Our conference sessions ended for the day at half past five, and Lindsay wanted to take Andrew and me for a celebratory dinner, acknowledging our efforts and, off the clock, enjoying some tropical libations. We met at a hotel on the corner of Tenth Street and Ocean Drive, tucked inside a three-story hotel decorated in vintage art-deco style.
Lindsay engaged us in conversation that revolved around the conference, but on her third strawberry daiquiri she began opening up about some gossip. Apparently Cooper was having an affair with one of the other analysts in addition to the woman who previously held Lindsay’s job. As she sloppily discussed the rumor mill, I thought of Stephanie’s constant flirtation with Andrew.
It was my boss’s fourth daiquiri that brought our love lives into question, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.
“Are you seeing anyone?” That’s a little forward, but okay…
“Sort of,” I blurted, trying to get her off my back. Andrew smiled, perhaps relieved we could wrap up this exchange soon.
“He brought you dinner. Right? He seemed really nice.” Andrew rested his arm on top of our booth seat, smiling at me. I nodded, feeling a little guilty about not having spoken to Declan much lately, and everything else regarding the mess of my life back home. I wonder what Declan would look like on the beach. I hated the beach, though, too many tanned jerks with their perfect bodies.
We ended the evening with one final round and the promise of a headache the following morning. Returning to my hotel room kept me going through the night. I opened the balcony door, welcoming the rush of muggy air that greeted me as I stepped out of the air conditioning. It didn’t seem right to know home was covered in a foot of snow while I was wearing a tank top, gazing at the Atlantic Ocean.
The street below was packed with people, and the beach was just as busy as before dinner but twinkled in the blurry glow of torches and lights that lined sporadic volleyball nets. I sank into the vinyl lounge chair and started biting my thumb as I clutched my cell phone, lost in thought.
I remembered Lindsay asking about Declan, and I wondered how appropriate it was to say we were seeing each other after only a handful of dates; albeit, the dates were full of his courteous manners and sweet gestures, so maybe that counted for something. I was overthinking and needed to stop.
As I watched the pedestrians meander beneath me, I got lost in thoughts of back home. Three weeks had passed since I saw Sean. Since he left me. I knew it was more than the part of me muddled by margaritas who wanted to talk to him. Three weeks of nothing, after a night of everything.
While we were barely able to talk after the night he kissed me outside, I had to remind myself it wasn’t about me, it was everything he was going through, but that didn’t stop my overwhelming confusion. When my boss asked if I were seeing someone, I should’ve been more honest and told her I sealed my heart shut so it wouldn’t break again. But…Sean. He was out there, literally in Miami, going through something life-altering, without a friend. It was his decision, but he was a stubborn brute.
I stopped chewing my thumbnail and prepared a harmless message to him. He was probably on a beach somewhere, surrounded by his posse of girls, so I safely assumed it would go ignored or get lost in the shuffle.
Me: I miss you.
There, I said it. Send. I tapped the phone on my chin as I looked back out over Ocean Drive and toward the ocean. The instantaneous buzz tickled my bottom lip.
Sean: you too
It was careless of me to even start a dialogue with him. I spent three weeks ashamed, trying to focus on my life, all to throw it away on one message. But that’s all I needed to know. He was alive. If he missed me, he knew where to find me. I tried not to think of the night in his room, but it was my last memory of him, so I viciously clung to it. I didn’t want to have memories, that meant someone was no more, and I couldn’t handle that. I shook my head, opting to text my friends to let them know I looked forward to returning the following evening, and that the conference was a snooze-fest.
I didn’t hear from Sean that evening, or the following day, but I resolved to start over on myself when I got home. The new year was coming, and I didn’t want to bring old baggage to the celebration.