9. Head in the Clouds
nine
“And then we exchanged numbers!” I leaned over the table, glowering at Alex.
“So?” he chuckled, securing his glass of water while his other hand held the surface in place. “Chill. What’s the matter with you?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Rolling his eyes, he sat back, taking his mimosa with him. “Don’t tell me it’s because he’s a waiter. I’ll be so disappointed!”
“No!” my pitch climbed up. “It’s because he has zero ambition.”
Mockingly, he widened his eyes. “Oh.”
“Oh? That’s exactly how everyone will react on my fiftieth birthday when I announce that I’m VP of Finance while Abel’s still serving cocktails.”
“Damn, girl, you’re spiraling.”
“Excuse you?”
“You literally just met this guy—”
“And slept with him,” I winced, putting my hands over my head. “What was I thinking?”
“You were in the moment. You were mad at Jude, and you had some fun.”
“But that’s precisely how I ended up with Jude. Couldn’t resist his charms, overlooked all the signals… and now I have a stalker and no relationship.”
“You’re twenty-eight.” He faked a scared look from over his glass as he sipped.
“Which is why I should know better. What am I doing?”
“Oh my God, Ella. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“I’m freaking out.”
“I don’t know why. If he calls you, just don’t answer. I’m sure he’ll get the message.”
“Right. Like that worked with Jude.”
“From what I heard, he’s the opposite of Jude.”
“Yeah? How? Painfully good looking—check.” I held up my fingers, counting, “Popular with the ladies—check. Somehow fits into the crowd of the rich and famous, even though he doesn’t actually have any skills to grant him a position there—fucking check!”
“Funny? I can’t recall a single time Jude made me laugh—uncheck. Content with his job and life? Jude was never satisfied, clawing his way up with his nails and teeth—uncheck. And let’s not forget… cunning!” he chuckled. “Sorry, sister, but you have to admit that he got you into bed, making it look like it was your idea.”
“God!” I groaned before realizing that the waiter was towering over me with my brunch.
“Green egg white omelet,” he said as he carefully lowered my plate onto the table.
“Thanks,” I grinned in an attempt to erase the memory of me acting weird a second ago.
“And orange blossom ricotta pancakes for you.” He put the dish in front of Alex, whose eyes instantly gleamed. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, could you bring my friend here some chamomile tea?” Alex pointed at me with a lazy finger. “She’s having a panic attack.”
“I’m not.” I quickly shook my head and looked up at the baffled waiter. “I’m good, thank you.”
“Well, we don’t serve chamomile tea—”
“I’m fine. Thanks,” I repeated, widening my eyes at Alex.
As soon as the waiter left, I picked up my knife and jokingly held it up. “You’re not being supportive right now. I resent that.”
“Your words and your gestures don’t match.” He stifled a laugh before picking up his fork and knife, digging into his giant stack.
Sighing, I cut out a piece of my omelet and ate it, following with a little bite of bread. As I chewed, I thought about the way Abel made me feel.
“But you know?” I mused. “I did have a good time last night.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he chuckled, shifting in his seat. “So? Spill the tea?”
“I—I,” hesitating, I shook my head.
“Without anxiety?” he reached with his hand, touching mine. “C’mon, Ella. Let’s focus on the good for a change.”
“It’s a scary thought,” I confessed.
“I know. Just one step at a time, though. You had fun.”
“Yeah,” I smiled, slowly cutting another piece off my plate. “It’s like… the conversation just flows, y’know?
“Just the conversation?” he shot me a naughty look.
“Shut up! I’m serious.” Not wanting to reveal the sudden rush of shyness that undoubtedly made my face blush, I looked away, taking a bite.
“Okay, I’m sorry. The conversation flows…”
“It does.” I quickly nodded with a defiant look. “And he’s not trying too hard.”
“Are we back to comparing him to Jude?” Alex crossed his arms over the table, leaning slightly forward as his eyes solemnly locked with mine. “Ella, if you have any hope of making any relationship work… you really gotta stop making Jude your bar. Because guess what? That entire thing was abusive as fuck… and I can’t even begin to tell what you were aware of and what you were in denial of.”
“I wasn’t in denial,” I objected.
“Yes, you were. And I refuse to let Jude eat up any more of your time. Deal?”
Inhaling deeply and very slowly, I fixed my sight on my friend’s face and reminded myself that he loved me and wanted what was best for me. He was also right about the way I allowed the ghost of Jude to dictate every decision I had made.
Silently, I promised myself to try to control it.
Later that evening, Alex and I went to see our friends Drew, Vanessa, and Randall. Thanks to his job as a music venue manager, Randall had scored us tickets to a Frank Sinatra tribute gig in a bar near Washington Square Park.
The music started, and the band was doing rather well. But when I saw James step into the bar, I quickly poked Alex in the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me he was coming.”
A smile of relief took over his face as it lit up, watching his boyfriend approach. “Honestly? I didn’t know if he was over our fight yet.”
“Uh!” I protested. “And you let me go on and on about Abel?”
“What can I say?” he shrugged before lightly shoving me to the side, grinning. “You made it!”
James inched closer, placing his hands on Alex’s cheeks before kissing him on the mouth. Without turning to look at me, he hollered, “Hi, Ella.”
Embarrassed that I’d been keenly staring like a star-struck teenager, I audibly cleared my throat. “Oh, hi James. Didn’t see ya there.”
Alex threw a subtle stare my way, and I giggled before suddenly ruffling my hair and shouting along with the singer, “Fly me to the moon!” And just like that, I jumped ahead and started dancing with an elderly woman in the middle of the bar.
Love was in the air. I didn’t know if it was all the classic love songs or the fact that Alex and James had made up. With my head in the clouds and feet striding on stars, I decided to walk home.
A few blocks away from my place, my phone began to ring. I thought it was Alex at first, but when I pulled it out of my purse, I saw Abel’s name. Instinctively, I turned to look around before realizing that if he was—in fact—out on the same street, I would look ridiculous.
Slowing down, I stared at the screen while it rhythmically blinked. I had to get up early tomorrow for a meeting. I was a little drunk. It wouldn’t be safe to let myself get distracted by a call while walking alone at night.
Excuses, excuses.
The phone stopped ringing, and instead of being relieved, I felt bad. Alex was wrong; I couldn’t just ignore Abel’s call without thinking about it twice. I caught myself hastening my steps as I marched home, seeing the building grow larger as the distance shrunk.
The second I stepped foot into my apartment, I dialed back his number. “Pick up, c’mon,” I whispered as I locked the door.
“Did I wake you?” he sounded even more attractive on the phone, if that was at all possible.
“You sound good!” I disclosed.
“You sound surprised.”
Tossing my bag onto a chair, I made my way to the bedroom. “You know how some people end up sounding… I don’t know, nasal on the phone? Or just… different?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Hi!” my smile shone through my voice.
“Hi, yourself.”
“Calling the very next day. Amateur move.”
“Or is it?”
“Mind games. Not a fan.”
“I just did what I felt like doing.”
“Do you always do that?”
“If I’m not hurting anybody.” His dog barked in the background.
I giggled, “Is that Dylan?”
“Outrageous. He’s not supposed to come upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“I mean—” he paused, “with filthy paws.” Something fell or banged with a muffled thud. “He just finished his evening walk.”
“Oh, cute! I just had a walk myself.”
“Really? Where?”
“Nearby.”
“What’s ‘nearby’?”
Gently sitting down in my bed, I proceeded to take off my shoes. “Bleecker street?”
“Oh, what time is it?” It sounded like he was asking himself.
“Don’t,” my smile shrank a little.
“Don’t what?”
“I’m the one who should be asking. How come you’re not working now?”
“With last night’s opening, I can afford a night off.” He paused. “Don’t what?”
“Act concerned? It’s New York. Whatever happens can happen in broad daylight.”
“Hey, I didn’t—”
“Look… I’m trying as hard as I can not to let my last relationship affect the way I view men?”
“Uh-huh?”
“But I can’t help it sometimes. He treated me like a child, and while at times—I must admit—it felt nice. Like I was being protected? But it went up to levels where he was completely possessive, suspicious, and flat out unreasonable.”
“Define unreasonable.”
Flashbacks of Jude’s violent behavior ran through my mind like an ominous, dark reel. The time he shouted at my coworker for calling me late while working against a tight deadline. The night he tossed my laptop on the floor, breaking the screen. They just kept coming. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay? Listen, I didn’t call to upset you. I actually wanted to say that I had a really good time last night and…” His dog barked again, and I heard slurping sounds against the microphone. “Okay,” he chuckled, “now he’s jealous.”
I giggled. “Of me?”
“He can tell it’s not a work call.”
“A work call?” I raised an eyebrow as I took off my jeans. “What are those like? You guys discuss the latest trends in silverware?” He forced a chuckle, and I instantly felt bad. “Shit, I—I…”
“It’s okay. No, sometimes we have more complicated conversations… splitting earnings, organizing staff meetings.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no easy job, and that was completely ignorant of me.”
“Really, it’s fine. Speaking of that, I’m guessing you work mornings. Am I keeping you up?”
Throwing my jeans to the floor, I laid down, unbuttoning my blouse. “I’m far from sleepy.”
“How come?”
Grinning, I bit my lip. “I don’t know? My best friend got back together with his boyfriend tonight. I was there to witness it.”
“Third wheel much?”
“Hey! We were a group. Also, Frank Sinatra might have something to do with it.”
“Didn’t know he was still alive.”
I laughed, and it came out goofy. “It was a tribute band. They were really good, too.”
“Did you get to dance?”
“I did. My partner knew all the moves.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“I don’t know. Are you threatened by seventy-year-old ladies in houndstooth dresses?”
“You’re shaking my confidence; I am not a good dancer.”
Running my fingers through my hair, I closed my eyes and recalled the way he moved with me in his arms. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Oh, you want proof?”
“You’d risk humiliating yourself in front of me?”
“If you agree to get dinner with me, I’ll do anything.”
He was asking me out. I needed to buy myself another minute to consider it. “Anything?”
“Just say the word.”
“You wouldn’t take me to a place where you work, would you?”
“I… move around a lot.”
“Troublemaker?”
“More of a wild card.”
“I’m scared of those,” I confessed.
“I don’t have it in me to hurt you.”
Putting my hand over my heart, I didn’t know why I believed him.