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When I looked up Jenny was giving me an indulgent look. Our eyes met and we said in unison, “Share-share!”

After eating way too much food, we headed out to explore downtown Chicago. It was a great city, crowded and busy, but people were surprisingly nice everywhere we went.

We walked along the lakefront on Michigan Avenue, heading for Millennium Park where The Bean was. On the way we passed an older building with two giant bronze lions standing guard at either side of the entry staircase.

“Ooh, the Art Institute! Let’s come back here tomorrow.”

“Why?”

I gave Jenny a puzzled look. “Because you were an art history major. You love art and this place is full of it. I read in a brochure in the hotel that the Art Institute has one of the largest collections of Impressionist paintings outside of Paris. And they have that painting with the lady and the man holding the pitchfork.”

“American Gothic?”

“Yeah. We totally need to see that.”

She looked pleased before she neutralized her expression. “This is your trip Blair. We should do the things you want to do. I’m just along for the ride.”

She was more than that and we both knew it, but I wasn’t going to call her out about it on a busy city sidewalk.

“Great, because I want to come back to the Art Institute tomorrow,” I said, linking my arm with hers. “As it happens, I also like art and I’ve never been to an art museum before.”

“Shocking,” she mumbled, but I could tell she was excited about the idea of coming back.

I was glad. I was telling the truth when I said I wanted to go, but it was also one special thing I could do for this woman who’d already given me so many fantastic experiences.

We continued walking and to my delight, on our way to find the famous Bean statue, we passed something called Crown Fountain. It was one of the funniest things I’d seen in my life. There were two glass towers on either side of a reflecting pool and while we watched, faces appeared in the glass, lips pursing, then water spouted out of their mouths as if they were spitting in the pool. Jenny and I took about a dozen photos there, including several selfies of us imitating the people projected on the fountain.

Like the Crown Fountain, The Bean was located in Millennium Park. Officially called “Cloud Gate”, the statue was shaped like a giant lima bean. The cool thing was that when you stood on one side of the statue, it reflected the city skyline, but when you stood on the opposite side, it reflected the lakefront. We walked underneath it, laughing and making faces as it distorted our reflections.

I tried to imagine my parents walking around Millennium Park like this and couldn’t. Even if they’d felt comfortable to be outside they’d think it was crass. I could almost hear my mother tutting in disgust about people spitting from the fountain. She’d probably pass out if she’d seen the way Jenny had wrapped her arms around me from behind at the Bean and said, “I like your bean better.”

It was sad really, the way my parents lived. I understood it was their trauma response, but even though they had everything they could need in their mansion and enough money for ten lifetimes, they weren’t really living.

After we’d explored Millennium Park I insisted that we take the elevated train, which I learned the locals called ‘The El’, to see more of the city. The main part of downtown made a loop where we could travel around and see not only the sights but get an idea about how the city operated.

“I can’t believe how tall these buildings are,” I said, looking up from the sidewalk. “They seem way taller than Seattle.”

“That’s because Seattle has height restrictions,” Jenny explained. “I think they didn’t want the tunnel effect you get in places like Chicago and New York.”

We walked around exploring until our feet hurt and we were hungry again. Jenny told me that we had to get Chicago-style hot dogs while we were there, so we stopped in a cramped little restaurant emblazoned with a Vienna Hot Dogs sign. After getting a little lecture from our server about how it was practically a crime to put ketchup on a hot dog inside Chicago city limits, we ordered our hot dogs, eating them with fries and a soda I’d never had before called RC. I had to admit I didn’t miss the ketchup, not with all the other toppings loaded on my hot dog bun.

While we ate we checked out our entertainment options on Jenny’s phone. We decided to try out an improv show on the north side of the city. It turned out to be off-beat, funky, and fun. Jenny and I snuggled on a love seat laughing our asses off while watching the performance.

When one of the comedians called out asking for a place I called, “The Corn Palace” and to my delight they used it in a skit.

“Are there places like this in Seattle?” I asked in the cab back to our hotel. “I didn’t even know this was a thing, improv shows.”

“There are,” Jenny confirmed. “But there are way more entertainment options in bigger cities like this.”

“I love it here,” I said, moving closer so I could whisper in her ear. “I’ve never made out in a taxi before.”

“Really? I think we’d better rectify that as soon as possible,” Jenny teased.

I cupped my hand against her cheek and gently turned her to face me. “I’m having the best time, Jenny. Thank you so much.”

I loved the way Jenny’s eyes softened when she looked at me. It made me feel like she cared about me as much as I cared about her.

“I’m having the best time too,” she said.