14. Isabella
Ishould’ve seen the storm clouds gathering over my day from the moment the morning started on a sour note. First, it was a nick on my knee in the shower, then came the shattered body oil bottle. I should’ve taken the hint then. The coffee shop’s oat milk drought should’ve been my second warning, and the accidental dousing of my limited-edition blouse in cold brew was a siren call I blatantly ignored.
Expectingthe PrismSociety to be my sanctuary as usual, I craved the dimly lit peace it always offered. But tonight, my haven was breached by a digital missive that threw me off-kilter. My usually stowed-away phone remained on the bar, buzzing with a reminder of a past best left forgotten.
Perhapsit was the universe and the stupid retrograde that told me to leave it out. IfI hadn’t, then the sensation that currently lined my gut would have at least been pushed off until later. The feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Wasit disbelief?
Shock?
Irritation?
Dis-shock-ation, perhaps.
Itshouldn’t bother me. It really shouldn’t. But the way he had worded it.
Themessage was from Nikos. Nikos, who had convinced me that stability and roots were for other people, not for us, the adventurers. Nikos, whom I somehow, against my better judgment, envisioned a future with. And now, he had the audacity to share his engagement and impending fatherhood with me, as if it were some consolation prize for our failed romance.
Nikos: Issa, I wanted you to be the first to know that Clara and I are engaged. She’s expecting, actually, I’m going to be a dad! If this hadn’t come about maybe you and I could’ve found our way back to each other. I’ve been thinking about how we left things. I miss you.
Theimpact of his words spiraled me into an introspective abyss I wasn’t prepared to explore mid-shift. I masked my turmoil with a practiced smile, but the evening’s tips and snippets of trivial arguments couldn’t distract me from my own storm brewing within.
Whothe hell sends an engagement and baby announcement in the same message with their I miss you confession? Someone pathological. And so with the buzz of the message, the reality of it on my screen, and the icky feeling in my gut, I had started my shift.
Maxcould tell something was off, but he also seemed to have a sixth sense about it and was giving me space. I was afraid I’d burst into tears and scream if he asked me what was wrong. And so I swallowed my emotions, closed my phone, held my head high, and plastered a friendly smile on my face.
Eventhe tips coming in that night were affected by the retrograde and whatever else was in the air. I could overhear tidbits of senseless arguments from couples as I walked through the lounge, refilling sparkling waters.
Mycurrent state of dress, a hasty replacement for my ruined blouse, was just another layer to my growing discomfort. I longed for the simplicity of a wine bath and the quiet of solitude, away from the unending reminder of my perceived failures.
Iwas grappling with a whirlwind of wants: love without confinement, a career filled with passion, a stable yet thrilling life. The paradox of my desires left me feeling adrift, questioning if a balance between these extremes was even attainable.
Iwas tired. And not just from the evening. I was tired of constantly feeling like I was playing catch-up in my own life. I was tired of second-guessing every choice I made. It’s not that I believed something better was around the corner, it was that I didn’t actually know what I wanted.
Nikos’smessage, a trigger to my spiraling self-reflection, underscored a deeper longing within me—a desire for direction, for someone to navigate the murky waters of my future for me. Yet, admitting such a wish felt like a betrayal to the fiercely independent fa?ade I upheld.
Thefact that I even craved that made me angry. At myself. At societal expectations. I walked behind the bar to drop off a tray of dirty glasses along with a few full-to-the-brim wasted cocktails. BecauseI’d jotted the order down wrong, or delivered it to the wrong table, distraction taking over.
“Hey,” Max said as he was remaking three cocktails for me, “I don’t know what’s up with you tonight, but is it something you can compartmentalize? All these mess ups don’t really bode well for me.”
“For you?” I asked sharply. “Of, course, Boss, my apologies.” I set the new drinks on my tray and turned on my heel before Max could respond, his face softening at the last second.
Gettingthrough the next few hours of this shift was going to be hell for me. I had to school my face to neutrality as I watched couples snuggling and heading upstairs to their private rooms. I grinned like a psychopath as I heard another couple bickering in a velvet booth. The same one me and Max had started our tasting the night that led to the wine cellar.
Finally, with seven messed up orders, but thankfully with only one customer making a comment, I turned the lights up in the lounge and walked to the back. I wouldn’t be sticking around tonight. I didn’t want to see Max. WhileI wish I could turn off my anger and confusion and fall into our normal flirty banter, I knew I didn’t have it in me. I wanted to be shoulders deep in a hot bath with a glass of wine in my hand, crossing my fingers that a good sleep would chase all these feelings away.
Theweight of my phone sitting next to my bag brought back both Nikos’s message to the forefront of my mind and that weird pit in my stomach. He had some audacity to message me that he missed me when he had a human baby on the way.
Holdingup the screen, I saw a slew of messages sent from friends I shared with Nikos. A bunch of shocked emoticons and exclamation marks filled my screen. A few offers for me to call and vent if I needed to and one Venmo payment for drinks in case I needed to drown my sorrows in cocktails.
Itossed the phone a little roughly to the bottom of my bag and it hit the metal edge of the locker with a bang. I wanted to yank my tote out of the small locker but, even in this state, I couldn’t do that to my dear Prada.
Iwalked past the small office where Max was starting closing duties, the heat building up in my chest. I should apologize. But so should he. Sleeping tonight would be made a thousand times easier if I tried to make peace with him before I left. I tapped my knuckles on the door, a neutral expression on my face.
“I’m sorry about what I said out there,” he said before I could even open my mouth. “We all have bad days. No one is going to die over getting the wrong cocktail. I’m sorry for making it a bigger deal.”
Icould already feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. A man that took accountability for his role in a disagreement? What a concept.
“You were right, though, I was having a bad day, and I should’ve compartmentalized better before coming to work. I’m sorry for all the mix-ups.” I was already turning to head out, ready to be done with the day.
“Tell me what happened,” Max said. His voice made me stop. Maybe talking about it would help. Normally, I’d call Nat, but I’d bored her so many times with Nikos drama I was sure my bestie was over hearing about it.
Witha deep sigh, I stepped back in through the doorway and started spilling my guts.
Ina moment of vulnerability, I found myself divulging my tangled thoughts to Max. The safe space of the club’s back office became the confessional for my insecurities and doubts, a rare moment of raw honesty in my carefully curated world.
AsI unraveled my story, revealing the depth of my self-doubt and the shadows of a relationship that had once seemed my compass, Max’s simple interjection, “So what?” struck a chord. His challenge to the societal script I felt pressured to follow sparked a glimmer of defiance within me.
Hisempathy and understanding, paired with his refusal to see me as anything less than capable, offered a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. InMax’s eyes, I was not a woman out of time or options, but someone on the precipice of discovering her true desires and potential.
Ihad only planned on glossing over the details of Nikos, just enough to explain the impact of the text tonight, but I found myself going through every messy aspect of our relationship. I walked him through all our petty fights and Nikos’s reason for ending things. I walked Max through all my insecurities and lack of direction and confusion about what I was supposed to do in life.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” I said, “Ialso still live at my parents’ house. I mean, what thirty-five-year-old still lives in their childhood home? My room isn’t even still there! I’m in a freaking guestroom and I?—”
“So what?” Max’s voice cut through my rambling.
“What do you mean ‘so what’?” I asked. “I’mthirty-five without a solid career, relationship, home, or anything else for that matter.”
“And what, you’re supposed to? Says who?” Max asked.
Isighed. “It’s different for us, you know. Women? Guys can spend all their twenties and thirties dicking around, having fun, trying new things, and by the time they’re ready to settle down, they’re still handsome and can bag some hot, young chick who’s ready to pop out babies. We have to lock that down early.”
AsI ranted, Max listened intently. He let me ramble and pace and talk over myself. He kept his eyes on me as I paced the floor and nodded and furrowed his eyebrows as I walked through all my anxieties.
“So at this point,” I continued, “I’ve missed the boat on being the young, hot chick for some guy andI don’t have anything in my own life figured out.” I didn’t expect Max, or any guy for that matter, to understand my position. It was different for them. It always would be. But, god, even spelling it out like this made it all feel worse somehow.
“I didn’t picture you as ‘some guy’ material,” Max said, “I’ve kind of always thought of you as the girl. The one the right guy would be lucky to have. Just because you’ve kept company with guys who didn’t get that doesn’t change the fact.”
“And what? You think you’re that guy?” I asked before I could stop myself. I wanted to take it all back and swallow the words. That’s not what I meant. I was under no delusion that Max thought of me in any sort of future way at all.
“Isabella. Sit down.” Max’s voice was firm and left no room for question.
Istopped my pacing. My mouth was slightly open as I locked eyes with Max. He was sitting in the desk chair, leaned back, knees spread out wide. He was taking up the space he knew he could.
God, this man was gorgeous. I let myself take in all of him. His dark navy slacks were raised to show his striped socks, his long legs were bulky in the thighs, and I wondered for a brief moment what they would feel like for me to sit on them.
Myeyes made their way up the rest of his body. Cataloging the shiny cuff links at his wrists, the large watch on his left arm, and the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. I found his face again.
“Isabella, let me take your mind off things. Sit down,” Max said, his voice clear and calm as he inclined his chin toward the sofa.
Amillion things were buzzing through my mind right now. But they all quieted as I slowly backed up against the small sofa. I didn’t quite understand why my body wanted to immediately listen to him, but I let it guide me. My body sank into the cushion and as I lifted my gaze back up to meet Max’s all of the overthinking and the criticizing chatter in my mind disappeared.