Sometime Soon

twenty-six



And just like that, hope returns. I know I don’t seem like an optimist. No matter how much I try to convince myself that I’ve given up hope, that tiny spark still burns, just waiting for

a fan to flame it.

I hardly sleep all night--replaying my encounter with Ryan--realizing that we’d both been willing to let what we feel slip away over a misunderstanding. Relationships are a delicate endeavor, so incredibly fragile, with all parties trying to protect themselves. I know that I approach every date in a half-hearted way, expecting to be disappointed and to get hurt eventually. I have to admit that I might be partially responsible for the less than successful outcomes of some of my dates and relationships. I might push a button or two, or bring something to a head with the intention of testing it or even sabotaging it, only because I think it will happen sooner or later anyway and sooner just seems better. But with Ryan, I’m determined not to do that. Besides, Ryan is different. Even if I end up disappointed in the end again, I believe that this time, it’s worth the risk.

The offer from Cronus arrives via FedEx on Thursday evening. I sign all the paperwork and send it right back. It’s official now, with a starting date and everything. I resign from BTS the next morning. Rob doesn’t seem surprised. I’m nervous tendering my resignation to him, especially after he’s just given me a promotion, well a possible promotion for a short trial period. I’m somewhat hesitant to tell him where I’m going. I don’t want to get Karthik in trouble for poaching. But to my surprise, he doesn’t even ask. He seems preoccupied and eager to end the conversation. Although he’s been friendly enough, I feel summarily dismissed.

Telling Nate is harder. I’m glad the offer has come so quickly, otherwise I would have missed Nate when he departed on his three week escape-the-crying-baby tour.

“You resigned?” he repeats, gaping at me.

I nod.

“Where are you going?”

“Cronus.”

“Where Karthik and Steve went?”

I nod again. Nate is making no effort to keep his voice low, and although I don’t have a view of the nearby cubicles, I hear keyboard clicking end abruptly, and I picture everyone lifting their heads to listen.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Nate mutters.

“Maybe now they’ll make you project lead.”

His expression seems to brighten as this possibility sinks in. “You’ll keep in touch, right?”

“Absolutely,” I smile. I would miss Nate. He is the first cube neighbor I’ve had that didn’t drive me crazy with weird habits. I’ve had many annoying cube neighbors. There was the guy who had to print out every email he received, getting up and walking back and forth to the printer all day long. There was the loud phone talker. That’s pretty self-explanatory. I spent several months across from BO guy, again, self-explanatory. Then there was the fruit fly man. This engineer had left so many open cans of juice and soda on his desk that he’d attracted fruit flies. Since this particular person was also known as scary tattoo guy, no one ever complained. So, I would really miss Nate and his T-shirt wisdom.

I always hate those two weeks of time you’re obligated to provide after you’ve resigned. They’re a waste of time, and they only serve to torture you with the emotional farewells of your coworkers, most of whom will forget you within minutes of your walking out the door.

I do email Bryn finally, to give her the good news. We meet for coffee, and I inform her that I will still be available for impromptu coffee breaks since I’m only moving a block away. Much to my relief, the subject of Katie does not come up. We seem to have a silent understanding that Katie is out-of-bounds material. Bryn and Katie will likely not repair their relationship, which makes me feel badly, and I decide to try to broker a peace once Katie lands back on her feet, which might take some time.

Katie is slowly coming to terms with her situation. She has developed a new mindset that does not include Mike in any way, not emotionally or financially. For now, her anger seems to be motivating her. But it’s better than crying all day and not wanting to leave the house. Her parents want her to move in with them, but she’s holding firm against that suggestion. She’s planning to move further out of town to a cheaper and larger apartment, and she’s currently pricing daycare solutions. It will be tight, but if she finds a less expensive place to live, she believes that she is going to be okay financially. The details of what Mike will contribute have yet to be resolved.

True to his word, Ryan does call me the very next day. He calls from the car as he’s leaving Connecticut, after bringing Wes home. He is emotionally exhausted as he relates the story to me. He tells me that he offered to take Wes off his father’s and stepmother’s hands, suggesting that Wes live with him and enroll in school here. Wes jumped at the idea. His parents were stunned and not in favor of it. It really isn’t practical since Ryan travels so much right now, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to make them see how desperately unhappy Wes is. After several hours in which everyone had their turn at tears, there was something of a breakthrough. Wes agreed to give them another chance and to go to therapy for his shoplifting habit if they would go to family therapy with him. They agreed. So for now, they have a tenuous truce and lots of therapy appointments.

Ryan has to go back to New York once Wes is settled at home, and he doesn’t return until next week, but we speak on the phone every night. He calls each evening from his hotel room to say good night to me. Sometimes, it’s a very long goodnight.

I’m a bundle of nerves for our date once Ryan is back in town. It’s a cool and breezy Saturday night, and I have to dig my fall coat out of the back of my closet. I’m wearing a black skirt with black tights and wedge heeled ankle boots. I’ve blown my hair out straight and located my favorite cream scarf to go over my coat. We’re going to the waterfront for dinner, and even though we haven’t seen very much of each other, I already feel as though we’re close somehow.

Ryan arrives on time, and my stomach feels like it’s home to a group of circus acrobats when I open the door and see him standing there. His khakis hug his narrow hips and a black sweater that matches the color of his hair stretches across his broad shoulders. I’m standing there frozen, hoping my stomach will calm down soon, when without hesitation Ryan comes through the doorway and doesn’t stop until he is directly in front of me, nearly touching me. Slowly, with his golden brown eyes intent on mine, he leans down and places a feather light kiss on my lips. “Ready?” he asks as he leans back again

“Yes.” I smile. My stomach has stopped its rioting, but that’s probably because the pounding of my heart has overtaken it.

Once we’re in the car I slowly acclimate to Ryan’s presence, and I’m able to relax more. Ryan turns on the radio. It’s tuned to a smooth jazz station again. He asks me about my new job, and we both talk about work within the dark cocoon of the car as it speeds toward the city.

Ryan leaves his keys with the valet and we go inside. The restaurant is located on a pier at the waterfront. A picture window at the far side of the restaurant glows with the sparkling city skyline. A wall of windows across from it has a view of the calm harbor sheened in moonlight. I’ve been here before with my parents, but it feels very different tonight.

When we arrive at our table, I notice that Ryan waits until I’m seated before sitting himself down. I watch as he settles in, opens his menu and begins to read through it. As he looks down, his eyelashes form dark semicircles across his cheeks. Before he can catch me staring, I turn toward the window and peer out at the city beyond the glass. It’s alive with light and movement.

Tonight I’m happy and scared at the same time. I’ve never felt what I feel for Ryan, and I’m afraid to trust it. I watch the way the lights that line the streets and buildings shimmer in the darkness and I wonder if I can actually do this.

“What are you thinking about?”

Ryan’s question pulls me back to him, and I notice that his eyes are reflecting the lights outside. They seem to twinkle at me as he watches me expectantly, waiting for my answer. At that moment, my answer is clear. “I’m thinking about you,” I tell him quietly. Then I smile at him hoping my eyes are projecting back the warmth and tenderness I can clearly see in his.

I notice a subtle tinge of red coloring his cheeks as he reaches across the table and takes my hand. Our fingers are loosely linked as he glances back down at the menu.

Debbi After dinner we walk along the pier holding hands and talking. The water laps softly below us as we stroll over the wooden planks. Ryan leads me to a bench and we sit down. He’s rubbing his thumb over the top of my hand, and his expression becomes serious.

“I want to apologize again and explain my reaction that night,” he says.

“You don’t have to apologize again.”

He nods his head at me. “Yes, I do.” He pauses to run a hand through his hair. “When you implied that I was lying...”

“And I’m still so sorry about that,” I interrupt.

He holds his hand up. “Just hear me out.”

I stop talking and nod encouragingly for him to continue.

He gives me a small grin and takes my hand again. “When you thought I might be lying to you, I acted irrationally. I have a real problem with lying and lies in general. When my mom got sick, my parents didn’t tell me at first. And when they finally had to because she was so obviously ill, they lied to me about her condition and how serious it was.”

Ryan is looking down at our hands now and I squeeze his. When I do, his eyes find mine again. “When she died, it was a complete shock to me. They should have prepared me. I would have spent more time with her. I would have talked to her more. I would have said goodbye to her. I’ll never forgive either of them for not letting me do that.”

“They were probably just doing what they thought was best,” I tell him.

“Maybe, but it still wasn’t right to lie to me. Not about something so important.”

I nod and I do agree with him. If I were in his place I would probably feel the same way.

“But I want you to know that despite the way I acted, I really am pretty easy-going most of the time. That night.” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “That night, I was feeling a little off balance with you, I think.” He grins and glances down.

A warm feeling flows through me because his expression leads me to believe that he liked the off balance feeling I caused.

“Because the way I reacted was really an anomaly.”

I chuckle at him. “An anomaly?”

He nods.

“Not all of it, I hope.”

He raises his eyebrows in question.

I give him a sly smile. “There were some parts earlier in the evening that I hope weren’t anomalies.”

“Ah, I see. You mean when we did this?” His smile fades as his hand moves up my arm to my shoulder and around the back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss. There’s nothing slow or tentative about this kiss. Our tongues immediately tangle as Ryan moves his hand up to the back of my head so he can press my mouth harder against his. But it’s not enough. I want my whole body pressed against him. My hands grasp the front of his sweater and fist it into bunches.

“Let’s get the car,” he whispers into my mouth.

I nod, and before I realize it he has me up and moving back toward the restaurant valet stand. The ride home is far too slow despite how fast Ryan is driving. We’re barely through my front door when he pulls me to him and captures my mouth again. We never make it upstairs to the bedroom as our clothes are quickly discarded, and without breaking apart we stumble over to the couch in the living room.

Ryan lowers me down onto the cushions and covers my body with his. He molds himself to me, and we fit together perfectly in all the right places.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he trails kisses down my neck.

“So are you.” I run my hands down the firm muscles of his smooth back and then I flutter them lower, urging him on, showing him what I want. Our first night together is a perfect combination of pent-up urgency, pure satisfaction, and slow gratification.

We manage to move upstairs at some point, and he falls asleep long before I do. Lying in his arms, my mind wanders back to the first time I met Ryan after our car accident and then to the other times that followed. Soon I find the smooth jazz music he likes to listen to in his car running through my head. When I first heard those songs, they didn’t seem to have a distinctive melody. Initially, I only heard disorganized tones rising and falling aimlessly. But as the music washed over me, I relaxed into it, enjoying the calm notes that flowed past me seamlessly before rising into unexpected crescendos and bursts of sound that hit a sweet spot I hadn’t even realized was there.