What Love Looks Like Page 7

  And because of work, visits to my parents' house had become infrequent. My plate was full, but that didn't justify avoiding my family. I felt guilty for my prolonged absence, and incessant e-mails and voice mails from my mother only intensified my guilt. I’d always had a strong relationship with my parents, and there was no excuse for putting them off. I wanted to blame it on my job, but in truth, all the time I was spending exercising to be hot enough for Jay, being on the phone with Jay, and daydreaming about Jay were my only opportunities for family time.

  I’d finally solidified a date to see my parents, and for once, I actually had good news on the relationship front. The day before I planned to visit them, I was spending my Saturday relaxing for a few hours before heading into work for an event downtown. As I fixed myself a bland salad for lunch, I received a welcome phone call.

  “Hi!” I said excitedly.

  “How are you, sexy?” Jay asked.

  “I’m fantastic, how are you?”

  “I’m great, now,” he said, as I blushed through the receiver. “So I booked your ticket.”

  “That’s amazing. Thank you!”

  “Oh, my pleasure.”

  “How ever will I repay you?”

  “Oh, I know exactly how,” he said, arousing me. “You’re flying into LaGuardia on a Friday morning and staying until Sunday. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “So how was your weekend?”

  “You know, same old,” he said vaguely. Sometimes I got the impression that he was unwilling to share details of what he’d been up to. I knew he liked to party, and maybe he sensed that I wasn’t exactly a wild child and toned it down so as not to put me off.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not really.” He chuckled.

  “Come on, I want to know what you do when I’m not around!”

  “All right, all right. I was up till about 4:00 a.m. last night at my buddy’s house playing poker. Just a bunch of dudes. After, we went to this place, Café Citron. And tonight I’m going to a preseason Yankees game with some people from work.”

  “Sounds like a fun weekend,” I said with envy.

  Our conversations never lasted long. Truth be told, we didn’t have a whole lot to talk about other than how we felt about each other. Of course I found that fact mildly alarming, but the moment I remembered his face my fears always quelled. In the very beginning, every new discovery about him was like uncovering a hidden treasure. But now that we'd answered most of the basic questions about one another, we were struggling to maintain interest in each other’s daily lives, which we really knew so little about. But before hanging up the phone, we ended all of our conversations with “I miss you,” which was a huge step in the right direction.

  Later that night, I was back at work. The dinner I’d arranged was for a group of financial advisers who ordered our top-of-the-line banquet menu, which rang in at $125 per person. I projected a roughly $11,000-event after calculating in the wine that I sold them, which meant a decent payoff for Maureen and me. The event was held in our Board Room. It was an impressive space that sat up to forty-five comfortably. The two large flat-screen televisions appealed to our largely male clientele. White tablecloths adorned sixty-inch round tables, and the elegant burgundy and aubergine chairs were both plush and decorative. The deep colors of the room lent themselves to both intimate and corporate-style events. I had spent a lot of late nights in that room and had grown to know every inch of it well.

  When the event ended, I stuck around as I always did and helped the servers tidy up the room. Most of the guests had made their way to the bar. One man lingered, though. He was one of the younger guys in the group and was a quirky sort of handsome. He timidly asked if I was allowed to have drinks with clients after work. Part of me wanted to oblige him, if only because I almost never had any stories about my social life to share with Jay (lately I’d taken to making up stories up just so I wouldn’t seem boring). But I declined. Somehow I thought that having a drink with the financial adviser would be disloyal to Jay, even though there’d been no mention of exclusivity.

  “Why didn’t you take him up on his offer?” Ryan asked, startling me. Evidently, he’d heard the entire conversation.

  “That guy? Oh I don’t know—I’m not really in the mood.”

  “Are you sure it’s not because of the other guy from New York?”

  “Well, yes that’s part of it too,” I said.

  “You’re going to have to turn down a lot of guys right here in Columbus if you stay with him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Elle, I’ve worked tons of events with you, and I see how often the guys here hit on you,” he said. Strangely, I sensed frustration in his voice.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You just can’t tell when it’s happening. When they’ve had a few drinks and come over and start talking your ear off at the end of the night, it’s not because they want your opinion on mutual funds.”

  “He was just being friendly.”

  “You have no clue how attractive you are, do you?”

  “Ryan, stop,” I said, laughing. “Listen, did everything go smoothly in the kitchen?”

  “Of course—it always does.” He winked.

  “Excellent.”

  “Hey, so, like, are you allowed to, like, get a drink with us after work?” Ryan asked, mimicking the shy financial adviser. I laughed and shook my head. He was incorrigible. “I’m serious, though. Come out for a drink.”

  “I wish I could, Ryan, but I’m beat.” And it was the truth. “I have to get up early and go to my parents’ house tomorrow. My mother’s been bugging the shit out of me.”

  “Sure, I know. Has nothing to do with the New York guy, right? I was just talking about a casual drink with a friend, but I understand, you gotta do what you gotta do. Have a great evening, Elle, and great work tonight.” He shook my hand and walked out of the empty room.

  He was back to being his cold, haughty self. Had I insulted him somehow? Maybe he was really trying to extend the olive branch tonight and my rejection offended him? I’d make a point of bringing him a coffee or something else thoughtful in next week or two.

  I exited from the back of the restaurant, stepping out onto the stony pavement in the rear lot. I walked past the dumpster as well as a few of the kitchen guys smoking, probably marijuana, on the bench that overlooked the highway. It was a cool night, but not intolerable. The entrance of my apartment was a stone’s throw from the rear of the restaurant. As it was the weekend, the city streets were full of life. Separate groups of men and women were on their way out to the clubs. The sushi restaurant across from East Coast Prime had a massive line just to get in. I knew the owner there well from my days of promoting liquor brands. He was a cokehead who thrived on late nights and scantily clad girls. I knew he’d let me in the back door if I wanted to go in, but I didn’t. I was exhausted.

  Mynt, the club next to the sushi place, was also packed with people. I could see about a half a mile north onto High Street, and it was teeming with people, young and old, out enjoying their nights. But I wasn’t one of them. Bar after restaurant after bar was filled with people: straight, gay, black, and white. They were all there for the same reason, to seek out pleasure. I saw a few couples on dates, walking hand in hand, and envy surged through me. Even if Jay and I worked out and this “thing” developed into a real relationship, there was still the problem of the physical distance between us. Everything always had a catch, and so few things had ever happened effortlessly for me. It was as if the universe was always testing me to see what I could handle.

  Outside my apartment window, I could see all the action on the street. A streetlight was almost directly outside, which I didn’t mind terribly because it reminded me that I was living somewhere that had some life to it. My building was right at the entrance of the Arts District, and the massive marquee directly outside my b
edroom window indicated such to visitors. It was a flourishing neighborhood to live in, and at times I felt lucky to be there. But I almost never got to enjoy all that it had to offer.

  Within seconds, a drowsy Luna excitedly jumped up on me several times before I picked her up and gave her a big hug. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I remembered that I could have been amid all the action. Both the financial adviser and Ryan had propositioned me, but I’d elected to go home and be alone.

  But I was making sacrifices for Jay already, and I didn’t even have any sort of commitment from him. He’d made a mere mention of sexual obsession, which in modern times hardly constituted monogamy. Maybe we were ready for “the talk.” Sure, it was sudden; we’d only been on one official date and had sex one time. But we communicated every single day, and our chemistry was undeniable. Unquestionably, that added up to something more than a fling. After a quick walk with Luna, I got into bed. I played music softly to drown out the temptations of the street noise that underscored my nonexistent social life.

  7

  The next morning, I packed Luna’s doggie bag and a few things for my parents'. I’d asked Ryan if he could hook me up with some cheap wine, and instead he gave me a hundred dollar bottle of Silver Oak Cabernet at no charge. Luna and I drove forty minutes north to Powell where I grew up with my older brother, Max, and younger sister, Emily. My parents were still in the same house that they bought when I was seven. Whenever anyone asked them why they didn’t downsize to a smaller or more energy-efficient place, my mother’s inevitable response was, “Home is where you raised your children.”

  Luna’s tail wagged excitedly as we pulled up the long driveway to my parents’ large brick colonial. Most of the neighbors we had growing up still lived on the street, and even though I hated the school system, I had to admit that it was a fantastic place to be raised. I had a wonderful early childhood, amazing parents, and every opportunity to have a successful adolescence, but somehow things went horribly wrong. In spite of my teenage years, I had only fond memories of my early childhood, and my parents’ house had a lot to do with that. It became my sanctuary after long, brutal days in school.

  Brandy, my parents’ yellow Lab, greeted us at the door. She and Luna immediately bounded through the house, and I watched nervously, hoping they wouldn’t knock anything over. I got a kick out of watching Luna take on a dog fifty pounds heavier than she was. I admired how she feared no one, even a massive Labrador that towered over her tiny body. I wished some of her courage would rub off on me.

  “Ellie, darling!” my mother said, embracing me.

  “Hi, Mom.” I squeezed her tightly. My sister Emily came around the corner and quickly hugged me before she started setting the table.

  “So kind of my long-lost daughter to grace us with her presence,” my mom said.

  “I know I haven’t been here in a while. I’m sorry. Work is killing me. I’m at the office or one of the restaurants six days a week.” I hated the sound of myself complaining constantly. I was putting negative energy into the environment. But when it came to work, I had no control over the vitriol that exited my mouth.

  “That’s ridiculous—they can’t work you like that!” my mom said.

  “It’s the nature of the beast, Mom. If you want to stay ahead of the game, you have to accept the rules, otherwise someone else will take your place.”

  When in my mother’s presence, I sometimes couldn’t help but stop whatever I was doing and just stare at her. She was so tall, so elegant, and her Italian beauty was timeless, like a younger Sophia Loren. She had striking cappuccino-colored hair. It was longer than the hair of most women her age. She always vowed never to succumb to the stereotypical short style of her middle-aged female cohorts.

  My mother was the picture of femininity. Her lips were full and naturally pink, and her eyes were blue and perfectly almond shaped. They were a genetic gift that she’d passed along to me. She was slender but with a womanly figure. Growing up, I wanted to look just like my mom, but when we were children my sister was the more fortunate one in the looks department. I, on the other hand, looked like a geeky, lanky stranger who bared little resemblance to the Coppola women But once I turned twenty, I was told that I looked identical to both my mother and sister; I’d finally received the exterior that I’d hoped God would one day bequeath me. But I’d long since learned that catching up on the inside was the real challenge.

  When my brother Max and my father emerged from the study, both of them greeted me in the strong, silent way with which they both did everything. Max worked for my dad, so the two of them periodically disappearing to discuss business was the norm. Max’s wife Kate, a nurse at OSU Medical Center, emerged with my new nephew James in tow. The baby cooed and pointed at the dogs playing, and I gently took him into my arms, placing a kiss on his nearly bald head. He smelled scrumptious. I couldn’t help but imagine that Jay and I too would create angelic babies if one day given the opportunity.

  Sundays in Italian families inevitably included pasta, meatballs, and sausage no later than three o’clock. Eating was followed by hours of the guys lying around watching television while the girls sipped wine and talked in the kitchen. Excited to eat carbs for the first time in weeks, I loaded my plate with pasta. It felt amazing to actually indulge in something other than exercise. I savored every bit of the meal and even went back for seconds after my brother accused me of looking too thin. Max, Kate, and Emily each filled me on their lives. Kate had been switched to three twelve-hour shifts, which was great for the baby. Max was kicking ass in business. And Emily had made the dean’s list in her MBA program yet again. As usual, I was the only one with any gripes at all.

  After dinner, my sister and I helped our mom clear the table and continued splashing wine into our glasses until the bottle ran dry. Just moments after the guys and my sister-in-law left the room, my mom started grilling me about my personal life.

  “So have you met any new men lately, Elle?” She asked.

  “Well, since you brought it up, yes I have.”

  “Oh? Do tell,” my mother said, obviously intrigued.

  “His name is Jay, and I met him at work. He had an event at our restaurant, the downtown one. He lives in New York, though, which is challenging. But he’s already visited once since we met,” I said, trying to stop myself from blushing and smiling.

  “When did you meet? Did he approach you first?” My mother wasted no time in her interrogation process.

  “About a month ago. And no, we both kind of saw each other at the same moment.”

  “Um, excuse me?” Emily said. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me any of this!”

  “I’m sorry. But we’re on completely opposite schedules, Em.” I felt bad for not having shared the news with my sister yet. Usually, she was the first person I told about anything. It was true, though, that our schedules conflicted. Emily was in school during the day and worked part-time at night. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve barely been talking to anyone lately, other than Jay, of course.”

  I told my mom and sister more about Jay, his job, his family, plus a few details about our date at Third & Hollywood, neglecting of course to mention that we had the most amazing sex of my life immediately afterward. They listened intently, asking questions and chiming in with their own little anecdotes periodically. “New York City, how fancy,” my mother added.

  After consuming the pricey bottle of wine that Ryan gave me, I talked about starting my own event-planning firm. Even though my mother was married to a successful entrepreneur, the thought of my running my own business wasn’t something she fully understood. After all, she was from a different time and was someone who’d worked for “the man” for her entire life. But she was supportive of it nonetheless, claiming she just wanted to see me more, and that I should enjoy my life while I was still young.

  I never heard from Jay that Sunday. It was upsetting and difficult to go an entire day without speaking to him. I’d just raved about him to my mother
, and now he was blowing me off. I had an uneasy feeling all evening, the sort that only women get when something just feels wrong. I practically had to sit on my hands to avoid texting him. Apart from talking erotically, we were running out of things to say to one another, but appearing apathetic was better than coming off as needy. So I followed my mantra: when in doubt, don’t reach out.

  I vowed to remain silent until I heard from him first. I needed to reinforce his desire for me. Plus, I had to start mentally preparing to see him again. Date number one was significant, but date number two in New York was imperative. I’d gone past first with Jay and was rounding second. He’d liked me enough to want to see me again, and was even paying three hundred dollars out of his own pocket just to do so. Maybe it would work out after all. For my sake, it had to, because I’d placed all of my eggs in one mouthwatering basket.

  8

  The stream of exchanges between Jay and me showed little improvement during the two weeks leading up to my trip. In fact, they were fewer and further between than ever. On top of that they were becoming increasingly shallow as more time passed during which we didn’t see one another. I feared that our relationship had become all about sex, and that our interpersonal communication was merely running on the fumes of our chemistry. My heart would be shattered to learn that there was nothing more to our connection than sexual obsession, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I got to New York.

  My fears were alleviated in part because the trip was planned already. I’d have a guaranteed second chance to win him over in person. It was the one thing giving me hope that we still had a chance at a relationship. Knowing I’d see him in just a few short days and planning twenty-three events during that time kept me from fretting too much over the path that Jay and I were on. There was simply no time for anxiety.

  With the trip right around the corner, I didn't aspire to do anything after work other than exercise. But East Coast Prime had earned Best Restaurant from 614 Magazine in the Best of Columbus Awards for the fourth year straight, and Maureen and I were required to attend the ceremony with some of the management staff. We were being honored among the city’s other “bests,” like best nightclub, best salon, and my personal favorite category, best boutique. I was asked to recommend two of the general managers from the Columbus locations to attend the event with us, and logically I selected Ryan and Kevin McKinley from the Dublin restaurant, which boasted the best sales of the suburban locations.