in a better place
part one
I come home tired from work on Thursday evening. My roommate reminds me that she has a plus one to a singles event on a rooftop. I think of listing a million and one reasons of why I don’t want to go: I’m tired, I want to climb into bed at 9 pm and listen to Olivia, I want to do a face mask…
“It’s around the corner. We can just walk by.”
But I am a writer, I remind myself. What would my mom want me to do? She would want me to get dressed up. She would want me to do my makeup, she would want me to pick out a cute heel and bag and walk in like I own the place.
I’ll have one drink, I tell myself. One drink.
We last a total of 15 minutes before my roommate decides to Uber us to a bar in Yorkville. And it takes less than 15 seconds for me to recognize a man who is holding court amongst a group of women.
“Jesse.” I tell my roommate.
“Seriously?”
I nod. I walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. My first thought is: free drinks.
I can’t read his expression when he stands up to hug me. The last time we spoke was me telling him that he was a liar and to go fuck himself back in March, in as many different ways as I could.
“We were due for a run-in.” I tell him as we do our usual: one hug, then one again.
“It’s a work event.” He nods towards the women. “One of my clients…”
He’s with another man I recognize, who is sitting on a couch, also surrounded by a separate group of women. It definitely is a post work event. Client drinks, a client dinner. A world that I have never desired to be a part of.
“You don’t have to explain anything.”
“No, I know. I just…you look great, Emily.”
He pulls up 2 seats for me and my roommate. I take a shot from another random man in a suit while Jesse whispers something to his friend on the couch. I catch his eye and smile.
“I feel like you’re talking about me.” I mouth.
“Come here.” He mouths.
I shake my head. “No. You come here.”
“You look great.” He mouths back. His friend watches this miming discourse with a very entertained smile.
The sea of women are clamouring for something from him. He is magnetic, and he is charming. But I also know he won’t be going home with any of them.
In this dimly lit bar, we eventually find ourselves separated from the Thursday evening crowd. Away from the suits and the harrowing conversations that begin with “So, are you in the industry too?” We’ve moved to a different table, closer to a window.
In my vintage Levi’s, a black strapless top, and a messy ponytail with tattoos proudly showing - I personally find it pretty obvious that I am not in “the industry.” I am actually very out of place, which I have learned is my superpower.
“Emily, I love you so fucking hard but I can also hate you so fucking hard.”
“Wait.” I put my hand over my heart. I know he’s trying to air his grievances, but this is a moment. “You love me?”
“Well - yeah. Isn’t this what this is?”
I nod. “Yeah.” But now I’m smiling ear to ear and I’ve probably ruined the attempt of a serious moment.
“Your words. You cut. And you know exactly where to get me. The way you speak to me - I would never speak to you that way. And I don’t. And I let you. I let you say whatever you want and write whatever you want. And I would never stop you.”
I catch my roommates eye. She’s standing at the bar and mouths “Are you okay?” I nod.
“You have to understand why I was upset with you. I cried in front of you, I told you I literally did not know where I was going to live or how I was going to afford rent the next month. And you looked at me and you repeatedly said, “I got you Emily. I got you.” And where exactly did you go?”
He looks down and keeps shaking his head. It is almost as if he is arguing with himself. “But I do, Emily. I do have you. I do have your back. I’ll always have your back.” His eyes are glazing over. I am watching Jesse vs. Jesse.
He tells me he blocked my number after our fight in March. I roll my eyes. “So now I’m blocked on two different platforms. And your plan was to never speak to me again?”
“I just…I wanted to say so much to you that day. But I knew it was going to be things that I didn’t mean. And then you would never speak to me again. Because I wouldn’t be able to take what I wanted to say back. So I blocked you to stop myself.”
“Well. Here I am. Speaking to you again.”
And here we are, side by side, with both of us reaching for the other’s hands. I do want to tell him that I lived with a man for four days out of spite, but I decide not to.
Thank god for the loud music. Thank god for the crowd. Thank god for the people. Thank god for the tequila. Thank god for the free shots.
“Hey - I want to introduce you to one of my most important clients.”
He introduces me to the man on the couch. The man on the couch shakes my hand.
He looks at Jesse, then looks at me.
“You hanging in there?” He asks me.
I smile. “Barely.”
The tequila hits and it doesn’t take long for us to fall into the usual. He does not acknowledge the other women again. We don’t leave each other’s side all night. We kiss. We make out. He tells me it’s unfair how good I smell. “All of those different oils you use.”
I tell him I still have a crush on him. I meet more of his friends. I go to the bathroom and panic when I come back and can’t find him. “He’s looking for you, too.” One of his friends tells me. We then catch each other’s eyes from across the room. “I was worried you left.” I let myself fall into his arms.
“What? Where would I have gone?” He’s laughing and he’s holding me and he’s kissing me.
To Be Continued.