“No, you’re sitting in it, Jack. My home. I told you once it was my severance package. A big thank you for services rendered.” He heard the bitterness in my tone and reached for my hand but stopped himself before he touched me.
Jack glanced around the room. He seemed about to speak, then reconsidered and stood.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Eve. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now I should get going.”
Of course he did. Now that he knew I was basically a common prostitute, well, an extremely well-paid prostitute, he was not interested. But that was OK. We had differing goals. He wanted drive-thru relationships, and I wanted to be loved and cherished, even if that would never happen.
I walked him to the door, and he turned to look at me. “Eve, you know, even if you don’t want to…you know…be with me, we can still be friends.”
I replied softly, “I’d like that, Jack. I think you’re basically a good person. I’d like to be your friend.”
He nodded once and left. I shut the door behind him and tried not to think how it felt like shutting the door on my heart.
I cleaned up, washing the wine glasses and pouring the ice cream down the drain. I considered pouring myself more wine, instead I grabbed a protein bar and went to run a bath.
Taking a bath was my way of destressing. When I was particularly upset, I’d add a variety of ingredients, like mix-ins at a frozen yogurt stand. Today seemed like a good day to bring out the heavy artillery. Luxe had sent generous gift baskets to each of the execs as a thank you for our business deal. It was time to open mine and see what was inside.
Lavender-scented Epsom salts. Yes, please. Bubbles? Why not. Dead sea clay? Um, no, I didn’t want to have to clean the tub after a mud bath. Oh, and what’s this lurking at the bottom? A gold-wrapped box of French chocolate truffles in assorted flavors? Absolutely.
I ran my bath to the perfect temperature, lit some candles for ambience, added my bath toppings, and when it was sufficiently bubbled, I slid in. Ahhhh. I felt the warmth chase away the autumn chill in my bathroom, and the chill around my heart.
I unwrapped one of the truffles and bit into it, enjoying the snap of the coating, slowly allowing it to melt on my tongue, savoring the silky smoothness of the ganache. Protein bar? What protein bar? Chocolate is on the menu for dinner tonight.
As the tension seeped out of my limbs, I allowed myself to think of Jack. We were done. Not that there had really been anything there. There had been lots of flirting. And some amazing kissing. But it wasn’t like there’d been a boyfriend/girlfriend thing going on. If I’d had a personal Facebook account, I wouldn’t have had to change my status from “in a relationship” to “single.” Single seemed to be my permanent status.
But that was OK. I was used to it. And so, I did what my grandmère had taught me to do, so long ago, when I was sad and lonely. I revisited my mental gratitude list.
1– I was grateful for Grandmère, who’d come to rescue a frightened, orphaned 10-year-old, taken her home, loved her, raised her, taught her, and always 100% supported her (me).
2– I was grateful for my job. It wasn’t something that I took for granted, especially when so many people were without jobs. It allowed me to travel, meet people, do something I do well, and to afford luxuries like chocolate. Although, was that really a luxury? More of a staple.
3-–I was grateful for Diane, who was the salsa to my cheese quesadilla. She made work easier, more enjoyable, and helped me make it through the tough days.
4– I was grateful for Bernard, who I knew looked out for Grandmère. If I didn’t have the assurance of him next door to her, I would worry about her a lot more.
I hesitated on 5. It was tough, but I knew 5 had to be Jack. I was grateful I’d had the opportunity to meet him, to help him, to know him. I’d really enjoyed the time we’d spent together. There probably would be no more Jack times in the future, but I was grateful for what I’d had. I had some lovely memories that I would cherish.
I wasn’t angry with him. In the way that a tiger’s gonna be a tiger, Jack would always be Jack. A playboy, a womanizer, out for a good time. I couldn’t hold that against him. He’d never presented himself as anything else. I wanted to keep thinking of Jack, but I disciplined myself to move on down through the list to #10, my apartment.
By then my water had cooled off and it was time to get out. I drained the tub, rinsed out the bubble froth, rinsed myself quickly in the shower, and wrapped myself in a hugely fluffy towel. (You do not work for a luxury hotel without figuring out the best place to buy towels.)
I had just stepped into my bedroom when my phone rang. Odd. Who would be calling me late on a Thursday? Of course, my heart leapt to the conclusion that it must be Jack, and he was calling to say he’d made a mistake and wanted to profess his undying love. My reason quickly stomped all over that idea and said, “Pick up the phone and find out who it actually is.”
Running international time zones through my head, trying to figure out which office would be calling at this hour, I answered, “This is Eve Lambert. How may I help you?”
“Hi Eve.” The sweet voice sounded faintly familiar. “This is Kimi. From PRTY. Is this a bad time for you?”
Swallowing my surprise, I said, “Hi Kimi. No, not at all. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you something, but it might be kind of awkward.”
“No problem, Kimi. What’s your question?” My mind was racing, trying to imagine what her question might be. Was it about Jack? Was it about the band? She really was with Morgan, right?
“Um, I just got a certificate for a couples spa day at Luxe spas, and I wondered if you might like to go with me this weekend.”
Uh oh. I knew exactly where that certificate had come from. As soon as he was done with me, Jack wanted no more reminders of me, so he passed it along to Kimi. But why would she ask me? Why not Morgan? Which is exactly what I asked.
“That’s so kind of you to offer, Kimi. But wouldn’t you rather take Morgan?”
