A Winter Dream

Chapter


Sixteen


I dreamed that I was at a ritzy party held in a swanky mansion. I had just taken an hors d’oeuvre from a server when I noticed a beautiful woman standing alone across the room staring at me. With one finger she gestured for me to come to her. Something about her eyes frightened me, but still I obeyed. As I stepped forward I saw she was standing in the middle of a giant spider web. The web behind her was lined with silk cocoons, most of which were still, though some of them were moving as the occupant struggled hopelessly to escape. I turned to run from her when I too found myself ensnared in her web. I looked back to see her coming toward me. I woke screaming, tangled in my sheets.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





I called April three times the next day, Thursday, but she didn’t answer. With each unanswered call I grew more frustrated. What was going on? What had I done wrong? Was she ever going to talk to me again? The idea of another rejection was too much to consider. I needed to know what had gone wrong. I needed to see her again. Friday morning I decided I would leave work early and catch her at the diner.



A half-hour before noon there was a knock on my door. Before I could get up, the door opened and Potts’s fiancée, Brandi, stuck her head in. “Anyone home?”

I hadn’t seen her since my first day at the agency. I was surprised to see her. “Hi,” I said.

“May I come in?”

“Things are a mess. We’ve been so busy . . .”

“I know,” she said, shutting the door behind her. “Peter told me that he had promoted you.” She walked up to my desk and reached out her perfectly manicured hand. “We were never properly introduced. My name is Brandi.”

“I’m Joseph. Or J.J.”

“J.J.,” she said, smiling. She was still holding my hand. “Sounds like a rapper.”

I casually withdrew my hand. “I’ve heard that.”

“What does your mother call you?”

“Joseph.”

“I’ll call you that,” she said. “So, Joseph, Peter said you saved an account your first day at work.”

“I got lucky.”

“It’s good to get lucky,” she said, looking me in the eyes. She sat on my desk. “Then again, maybe it’s not so lucky.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re setting the expectations too high. What do you do for an encore, save the world?”

I grinned. “You might be right.”

“I usually am,” she said wryly. “So where in the world are you from?”

“Denver.”

“Mile-High City,” she said. “So, what do you think of the Windy City?”

“It’s big,” I said. “I’m still learning my way around.”

“I can point you to all the hot spots,” she said. “What do you do for fun?”

“Not much, lately,” I said.

“I can help with that. We should get together for a drink sometime.” She hesitated just a moment before adding, “. . . Or something.”

I pretended not to hear her addendum. She just gazed at me like she was reading a magazine. When the silence started to get uncomfortable, she said, “So what do you think of the big agency life?”

“It’s exciting,” I said.

“You’ll get over it,” she said. “You know, you still have that deer-in-the-headlamps look about you. But it’s kind of cute. I like that in a man. It’s very sexy.”

“You like what in a man?” I asked.

“Vulnerability.”

“Peter doesn’t strike me as the vulnerable type.”

She bit her lower lip, then leaned forward toward me, looking me in the eyes. “All men are vulnerable. You’ve just got to find the right kryptonite.”

I just stared at her, tongue-tied.

Suddenly, she leaned back and laughed. “Don’t be so serious.” She stood back up. “I better go.” She walked to my office door, then stopped and looked me up and down. “See you around, Joseph.”

“Bye,” I said.

She shut the door behind her.

No, no, no, I thought.



Minutes after she left I gathered my things in my backpack and went to find Timothy. He was sitting at his cubicle sketching with one of the Leo Burnett big black pencils.

“Hey, Timothy.”

He looked up. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’ve got to take an extra long lunch today. Can you, like, take care of things?”

He just looked at me.

“I know, stupid question. Will you cover for me?”

“Sure. When will you be back?”

“Two hours. I need to run home. I’ll stay late to make it up.”

“You’ve stayed late every night this week,” Timothy said. “Just work through lunch, then leave early.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“You’re the boss,” Timothy said.

“In name only.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry. Potts is leaving early. His squeeze came by.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, sighing.

“What does that mean?”

“She paid me a visit. Invited me out for a drink . . . or whatever.”

He grimaced. “I would steer clear of that reef, my friend. Head for deep waters.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime. Have a good weekend.”

“I hope so.”

I worked another hour, then left, reaching the Jefferson Park station by one. My heart was filled with apprehension. April worked at the diner until two on Fridays. I would reach her just about the time she got off. I could wait outside if I had to. I hoped there wouldn’t be a scene.

It was ten to two when I entered the diner’s front door. There were only a half-dozen people inside and the only waitress in the front was Ewa, a tall blond Polish woman at least ten years older than me. April had told me that they were friends, but we’d never been introduced. Ewa said with a Polish accent, “Just sit anywhere you . . .” She paused. “No, you are here for April.”

“Yes. Is she here?”

She nodded hesitantly. “She’s in back.”

“Could you tell her I’m here, please.”

She just looked at me, her eyes narrowing threateningly. “You be careful. I will get her, but you be careful with her. She is a good girl.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Maybe you hurt her without trying,” she said. “You be careful.” She walked back into the kitchen. It was a couple minutes before April walked out. She looked embarrassed and vulnerable.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Why haven’t you been taking my calls?”

“I’m sorry.”

I waited for some kind of explanation, but she didn’t offer one.

“I came by to see if we were still on for tomorrow. For our tour.”

“They’re not tours, they’re dates.”

“So, they’re dates. Is there something wrong with that?”

She didn’t answer.

After a minute I exhaled heavily. “Look, I have no idea what happened. I thought there was something between us. If I did or said something to hurt you, I’m really sorry. I know we’ve just met, but I really care about you. I would never hurt you intentionally.” I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. I exhaled in frustration. “Look, if you don’t want to see me, just tell me. I won’t bother you again.” She still just looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes. Finally, I said, “All right. I won’t make you say it.” I turned to go.

“Wait,” she said, her voice cracking.

I looked back at her. She was crying.

“Please don’t go. I want to see you.”

I took a step closer to her. “April, what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you.” She wiped her eyes. “I wish I could, but I can’t. But we’ll date, okay? We’ll get to know each other.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. But I just need time. We’ll have fun. I promise. I’ll be good to you.” She reached out and took my hand. “I really want to be with you. I’m sorry I’m so hard. Please don’t give up on me.”

I looked into her pleading eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand in mine. I took a deep breath. “I won’t give up on you. And I won’t ask what’s going on.” I tilted my head. “But there’s one thing I need to know.”

She looked at me anxiously. “What?”

“You’re not an outlaw, are you?”

A broad smile crossed her face. “No.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to end up in court someday testifying against you.”

She laughed, then she hugged me. “I’m going to make you so happy you came to Chicago.”