Nowhere but Here

Page 13 Enterprise Copy

A month went by before I started feeling normal again. I easily fell into the same old routine, except I was condemned to the Arts and Leisure section of the paper. I didn’t mind—at least Jerry hadn’t fired me. He understood that I had been duped by everyone at the winery. I got to see Will Ryan and his wife play in Chicago, and Jerry printed (without question) my very gleaming review of the concert. Beth ended up writing the rowback for the R.J. article. That’s when a newspaper tries to correct a story without indicating an error to begin with. She managed to imply that we were deceived, even though she didn’t say it outright. To our complete amazement, there was little response to my article or the rowback, so that was a relief. We realized that the whole thing was very dramatically blown out of proportion, thanks to my personal involvement with the subject. Still, Jerry and I agreed that it would be best for me to lay low until it all was completely forgotten. R. J. Lawson, whoever he was, fell easily off the radar once again, but the wine and winery didn’t stop getting praise. After my article ran, several Napa magazines featured full spreads of the Lawson winery and the gorgeous vineyard surrounding it. It continued to be recognized like it had been before, but R.J. the man was never mentioned in those articles. Jamie maintained his privacy after the rowback. I looked at each picture of the winery with a strange feeling, like I had never been there. My memories of that beautiful place had been tarnished.

I never went to another gay bar with Beth, but we made a pact to have dinner once a week. True to her words at the Dogfather, she finally started dating someone seriously, and for the first time I was actually producing more words than her on the weekends. I’d march into work every Monday and lean over her cubicle and say, “I busted out eight thousand words.”

She would always chuckle. “Yeah, but I got laid.”

“That’s overrated,” I would say. Lying, of course.

It was hard not to be happy for Beth and Jerry and Dylan, who had all managed to find their people, so I devoted myself to positively supporting all of their relationships. I added another houseplant to my apartment, along with a betta fish that I named Anchovy. Just getting a fish equaled more commitment than Rose had made in her whole life. I figured I was easily on my way to twenty cats. I wondered about Rose’s dream all the time. I still had it, but it would always end before she’d open her eyes. The terrifying and touching moments in the dream were gone, but the sadness remained.

Stephen stopped screwing women in the basement after Dylan and I sent around a petition requesting that the door to the basement laundry room be removed. The super, who was not a fan of Stephen, gladly took the door off. Jamie continued leaving me messages, begging me to call him. That lasted two weeks, and then he resigned himself to simply calling and saying, “Good night” or “Good morning” or “I’m thinking about you,” on my voice mail. The messages made my heart ache, but it was a good ache. Somehow it felt like a healing ache. It’s like the pain you feel when the skin around a wound tightens up. I got to work on time every day because I stopped searching for Just Bob. I didn’t stop searching for the holiday train, though. My pathetic goal in life became sitting next to Santa on the goddamned L, and I wouldn’t stop until it happened. I made myself believe that searching for a fake Santa on a train was enough to live for.

Time sidled by like I was watching my life as a rerun in slightly slower motion—until the morning when I saw a familiar face on the L. It was December and freezing in Chicago, but I was sweating. There’s a constant adjustment of your body temperature when you live in a cold place. I like to pile on layers of clothes because I hate stepping out into the cold, but then I always end up half walking, half jogging to the train. By the time I board I’m usually sweating profusely. On top of it, the transit system pumps heat into the subway portals so there’s no ice buildup on the tracks. There’s sometimes a stuffiness in the stations, and then if a train is crowded and you’ve been running for four blocks and you’re wearing a parka, there’s a good chance you will either pass out or puke, and that’s what almost happened the morning I met Christina.

I recognized her right away but couldn’t place her. She looked to be in her thirties, with strawberry blond hair and a perfect complexion. She recognized me instantly but continued to scrutinize me. My heart was beating out of my chest from running. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and began frantically removing my coat. She was still watching me, and then she tilted her head to the side. I felt like she was studying me.

“Are you Kate?”

“Yes,” I said through heavy breaths. She grinned knowingly, so I moved across the aisle to sit next to her. I turned and stuck my sweaty hand out. “I’m sorry, I recognize you but I can’t figure out where I know you from.”

“Does Robert Connor ring a bell?”

After removing my giant coat and catching my breath, I looked down at my hands while I searched my mind. “Uh no, sorry.”

“Bob, from the train.”

“Oh, Just Bob. Yes! Yes, I know him. I remember you now. You used to sit with us. I haven’t seen Bob. I couldn’t find him. I just figured he had started taking a different line.”

Her face changed and her lips turned down. “I’m glad I found you, even though I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. Bob passed away a month and a half ago.”

Fuck. I knew something had happened.

“Oh no.” My eyes started watering. “What happened?”

“We think he died a peaceful death from natural causes. He was older than he looked. He was ninety-five but sharp as a tack.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Well, he didn’t have any close friends or family so his body wasn’t found for quite some time.” She furrowed her eyebrows and puckered her lips, clearly still emotional at the idea.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, Bob lived a very solitary life. I only found out after they were clearing his apartment. At some point I had given him my business card. You see, I’m a lawyer, and Bob wanted me to write his will. We never got around to a meeting, but he must have known his days were numbered because he wrote his own will right on the back of a paper plate.” She laughed and looked up to the ceiling of the train. “Bob didn’t have much, but he sure wanted you to have a few of his things. His apartment was full of books.” My eyes widened. She reached out and grasped my hand. “Most of the books were donated to schools and libraries, but Bob had set a few aside in a little shoebox with a note. On the plate he wrote ‘Please make sure Kate from the train, the young girl with big eyes and dark hair gets the shoebox.’ It was luck that they contacted me after finding my card and that I remembered you, but I didn’t know if I would ever find you. I just made a silent promise that I would watch every person that got on and off the train.”

“So what does the note say?”

“I haven’t read it.” She stood up. “This is my stop. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, meet me at the Rosehill Cemetery mausoleum at ten a.m. You know where that is?”

“Yes.” I knew it well. “Thank you,” I said as I took the card. I stared at it for several minutes before putting it in my pocket. I wondered why Bob had singled me out of the group of followers.

After work, I went home and slid into bed. I opened my phone to three new voice mails. One was Dylan. Hey, chica. Ashley turns eighteen tomorrow, holy shit!

His voice got super high. I wanted to know if I could borrow your apartment. I’ll pay for you to go to a movie or something.

I texted him back:

Me: So you want to use my apartment to have sex with your girlfriend?

He responded almost immediately.

Dylan: Um yeah. Is that bad?

I laughed to myself. Dylan was always so innocently honest. It was kind of charming. I think if I had met Jamie in the right circumstances, I would have felt the same way about him.

Me: Fine. You better wash the sheets and you better be safe with her.

Dylan: I’m no dummy.

Me: You should make her dinner. My kitchen is stocked. Be a gentleman.

Dylan: You read my mind.

Me: I’ll leave around six. You have a key, right?

Dylan: Yeah, from that time I had to feed Anchovy

Me: K. Have fun.

I listened to the second voice mail from Jerry. We’re cleaning out the stockroom. Your suitcase is still in here. Seriously, Kate, I’m trashing it if you don’t come and get it. I’m working tomorrow for a couple of hours. Maybe you can pick it up and we can grab lunch?

The suitcase was packed with everything from my time in Napa and all of the R.J. research. The dress I’d worn on our date was in there, as well as the necklace and note from Jamie. A lump began to form in my throat. Why am I not over this yet?

As expected, the third voice mail was from Jamie. Hi, —He paused and took a deep breath.—I went to GLIDE today. A few people asked me about you. I had to tell them that I was a fool . . . and that I let you slip away. I heard a subtle change in his voice, like he was choked up. Night, angel.

That’s why I wasn’t over it yet. But I didn’t cry that night. There were no tears left.

I met Christina in the entry of the mausoleum at Rosehill the next morning. She held the box out to me as I approached. There was a folded note taped to the top. “Good morning,” I said to her as I took the box and peeled the note off. I unfolded it immediately and read:

Kate from the L,

I remember when I first met you months ago. You seemed so disconsolate and distant. I know we didn’t know each other well, but I felt a desire to help. Now I fear I may have failed you. You see, you reminded me of someone I used to know. Her name was Lily and she was beautiful, young, and vibrant, and she was the love of my life. You look like her—same warm eyes and dark hair. I used to get lost in her eyes. I wasn’t always such a lonely ogre. I was full of life once, but I lost my Lily too soon when she passed away just after our wedding. I saw you in the same kind of pain that I’d felt. I didn’t want to see my Lily in pain. I thought if I made you believe that there was happiness in solitude, that you couldn’t and shouldn’t rely on another human being, maybe you would stop feeling that pain. I was wrong. What I really want you to know is that I would have traded a lifetime with my books, alone in my apartment, for one more minute with Lily, even if it meant I had to feel that pain over and over again. Don’t give up, Kate. Don’t stop searching. Find him, take care of each other, hold on to each other, and never let go.

I hope this finds you well and still hopeful.

Your friend,

Bob

To say I was a blubbering mess would be putting it lightly. Even Christina was crying just from watching me read the note.

I looked up at her. “Wow, Bob was romantic.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, read it for yourself.” I handed her the note.

As she read, I opened the box and fumbled through the books Bob had left me. There were a few old paperbacks I didn’t recognize and then I got to Possession and The English Patient and A Room with a View. Perhaps it was a whisper.

When Christina was through reading, she folded the paper and handed it back to me. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Right?”

She pulled me along into the building and said, “Come on, let’s thank him and pay our respects.”

We took a familiar path. “Where are we going?” I started to get a very strange feeling.

“It’s just around this corner.” Soon, we were facing the spot where Rose’s placard finally had been placed.

I looked up to the wall. Gleaming two rows above was a placard with the name ROBERT CONNOR and the dates of his birth and recent death. Bob and Rose were on the same wall. Another whisper. It was a coincidence, but it brought back so much emotion. The dream with Rose flashed through my mind, as well as Bob’s words. Those two lonely souls were reaching out to me in death and urging me to open my heart. I put my hand over Rose’s name and then reached up with my other arm and touched Bob’s placard. “Take care of each other,” I said very quietly.

“I’ve got to go, Kate.” Christina had been silent while we stood there facing the wall.

I turned toward her. “Thank you so much for holding on to this. It means a lot that he wanted to share his feelings with me. I only wish I could show him my gratitude now.”

“You can—by taking his advice.” She pointed to the note.

“Yeah.” I smiled sincerely, but taking his advice at this point would open up the wound all over again.

Walking to the L, I held my head up and let the cold wind chafe my face. I needed, more than anything, to make a concerted effort to put things behind me and look forward. If I let myself be open to another relationship, I had to get over Jamie completely. Step one in that process would be addressing the suitcase.

I entered the open door of Jerry’s office at the Chicago Crier. “Hey, kid.” He removed his bifocals and stood up from behind his desk. “What do you say we get sandwiches and hit up Millennium Park?”

“It’s freezing out.”

“All right. Shedd Aquarium, then?” Clearly, Jerry needed a distraction, which wasn’t usually hard for him. Maybe he knew I needed one, too.

“That sounds good.”

“Should we pick up sushi and freak out all the animals?”

“No, that’s terrible.” He was such a kid at heart, albeit a weird one, but a kid through and through. “Let’s get grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup from Ma’s.”

“Comfort food it is.”

I slurped my soup from the bench facing the dolphin aquarium. “Did you know dolphins have sex for pleasure?” Jerry said through a mouth full of grilled cheese.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“They’re the only animals besides people that do it for pleasure. Do you think they’re capable of love, too?”

I huffed. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“I was just wondering what you thought.”

“Well, I guess you would have to define love for me to answer that question.”

He popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth and looked around contemplatively while he chewed. “Love is a thing that you can’t take out of you. Once it’s there, it doesn’t go away, no matter what. Love can morph into hate and resentment, but it will always be there, buried under the bad feelings.”

“Hmm, very poetic, Jerry, but I think love is just a feeling.”

“That’s lust. That’s why dolphins have sex.”

I choked on my soup. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious. Love isn’t just a feeling, otherwise it would come and go much easier.”

“I guess what I had with Jamie was lust.”

“Maybe so.” He continued looking forward but elbowed me in the arm. “I guess that’s why it’s been so easy for you both to let go, huh?”

I faced him with a scrutinizing look. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable?”

“Yeah, I do. Not just to Jamie, but to yourself, too.”

“He lied to me.”

“He tried to tell you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he’s called me about three hundred times since your little article faux pas.”

“About what?”

“Lots of different things. He wanted me to know that he was sorry for hurting you. He also wanted to make sure that you were okay, since you haven’t returned any of his calls.” I shrugged. “You know, Kate, I find him fascinating. Who would have thought young Ryan Lawson would grow up to be this kind of person? He was such a geeky kid. He’s still brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but he’s really a guy’s guy, you know?”

“Maybe you should date him, Jerry.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. I don’t think any of us would have suspected Jamie. I should have given you more time to research before I sent you out there.”

“Maybe. Probably. They definitely didn’t expect that Jamie and I would . . .”

“Fall in love?”

I face-planted into both of my hands and leaned over my knees. “I was going to say hook up. Enough with the love stuff.”

He stood and brushed the crumbs from his clothes, seemingly unaffected by my dramatics. “You’ll figure it out, kid.”

Jerry drove me back to the office, where I collected my suitcase. I wheeled it past the closest L station, which was closed due to construction. I let myself absorb the cold again. I glanced at my watch. It was four thirty. I had a little time to get back to my apartment before I would have to disappear again so Dylan and Ashley could have their date. I was thoroughly freezing when I reached the second closest L station. I waited at the platform with the toes of my shoes peeking over the yellow line. It was starting to get dark out. I heard the train coming, so I leaned out to look down the track. To my absolute joy and wonder, pink lights were reflecting onto the shiny tracks just before the train came into view. Even though I had never seen it before, I knew, as if it were the absolute truth of the world, that the holiday train was coming my way.

I started giggling uncontrollably. Some schmuck next to me in a beige trench coat said, “Dammit, the holiday train again. This is the second time this week for me. The damn thing is slower than molasses.”

“Oh, bah humbug, you asshole!” I wheeled my suitcase over his polished dress shoes and began running down the length of the train to where I could see an open train car. On the outside of each car were painted twinkle lights and holiday scenes. The sounds of “(It Must’ve Been Ol’) Santa Claus” by Harry Connick Jr. started pumping through the speakers. I was running past the lights, smiling exuberantly, like I was in a Hallmark Christmas movie, about to be reunited with my love. Seasons Greetings flashed in bright white lights on the last car before I reached Santa’s sled.

Just as I got to the end, a transit worker jumped down from the train and the lights and music went off. “What’s going on?”

“She’s broken down. That’s it for the holiday train tonight.”

“What?” My voice was at its highest pitch, piercing the silence. The rest of the train riders were walking past me to the stairs to exit the platform.

“You have to be kidding me!” I shouted.

“I’m sorry, honey, we’re having some trouble on the tracks. You’ll have to catch her the next time around. Maybe tomorrow when she’s up and running. We have engineers working on her right now, but we got to let Santa have a break.”

I looked back at Santa’s sled and he was already gone.

“I can’t believe it,” I kept saying. “I’ve waited years for this, years!” Fucking bullshit.

I walked all the way back to my apartment, cursing at the sky and rolling my suitcase behind me. I spotted a large Dumpster in a dark alley near my building. To hell with it. I took the box that Just Bob had given me out of my suitcase. I lifted my five-hundred-dollar luggage into the air and heaved it over the Dumpster wall with surprising ease and then headed toward my apartment without looking back. I freshened up and headed out with Just Bob’s copy of A Room with a View.

There was an old café on the corner of my street called the Living Room. It was one of those coffee houses with big cozy armchairs and the smell of roasting beans wafting through the air. Before I reached the door, I could hear Miles Davis coming from the outdoor speaker. It was “Someday My Prince Will Come.”

Ha! I laughed out loud as I entered the café. Several people looked up from their newspapers and laptops. Smiling really widely, I pointed up and shook my finger at the speaker. “Love this!” I saw a few smiles before everyone went back to their business. I plopped into a giant purple chair with an ottoman and kicked my feet up.

“Can I get you a coffee?” a waitress asked, hovering over me.

“A cappuccino, please.”

“You got it.”

Minutes later, she brought my coffee back. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and took a sip. It was divine. Closing my eyes and inhaling, I took another sip and said, “Mmm,” very quietly.

“You enjoying that?” A man’s voice. I opened my eyes to see a young guy in an identical armchair across the table.

I coughed, clearing my throat. “Yes.” He was good-looking in a preppy way. He reminded me of Kevin McDonald, my first boyfriend in high school who taught me how to drive. I smiled.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book on my lap.

“A Room with a View.”

“What type of book is that? I’m not familiar.”

“Well, I guess it depends on your belief system. It’s a love story, so one might consider it science fiction.”

“So skeptical,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“For example.” I flipped the book open and noticed Bob had highlighted quotes from it. “Let me read you a bit.” My eyes fell on the words:

Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes.

I laughed to myself. Bob was right on highlighting that quote. I flipped through the book some more to find a bigger section to share.

“Okay, here,” I said. “ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part.’ ” I paused when I felt my heart start racing.

“Please continue,” he said.

“ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.’ ” A huge lump began forming in my throat. It was actually painful.

It was the answer to Jamie’s riddle. Had I known at the time what the poets said, I might have agreed that they were right, but did I believe it as I sat there in that coffee shop? Is that why I couldn’t let the memory of a few short days with Jamie escape my heart? Because it was impossible to push real love away?

“Gotta go.” I jumped up and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute. Can I get your number?”

“Sorry!” I said as I rushed out onto the street. I ran back to the alley. It was completely dark at that point, and I had to step over a couple of homeless men. “Excuse me, I’m sorry.” One of them grumbled something before I strapped my purse across my body, placed my hands on the disgusting edge of the Dumpster, and jumped up and over, landing dramatically in the knee-high trash.

Quickly realizing my suitcase was gone, I hopped back out and wiped my hands down my jeans.

“Excuse me, guys? Did you happen to see someone take my suitcase from the Dumpster?”

“Nah, we didn’t see nothin’,” said a toothless man. His beard moved up and down when he talked, like he was a puppet. It was frightening in the dark, but I swallowed back my fear and pulled out ten dollars. They both immediately threw their arms in the air, pointing behind me, and said, “She went that way!”

“Yeah, it’s Darlene. She’s got it,” said toothless man number two.

I dropped the ten dollars and turned in the direction they pointed. I didn’t see anyone but continued toward the light of a record store farther down the block. About halfway, a woman darted out of another alley. She was wheeling my suitcase, and from where I stood I could tell that she had on my jacket. As I got closer, I could see that she was also wearing my black dress over a grungy pair of sweats.

“Darlene!” I shouted.

She turned quickly, walked right up to me, and cocked her head to the side. “How do you know my name?” she barked out. Her voice was deep and rough.

“That’s my stuff.” She had on the necklace Jamie had given me. She was obviously homeless. Her skin had that dark, weathered, dirty look to it, and her hair was stringy, greasy, and gray, hanging down past her shoulders. My necklace glimmered against her neck.

“No, this is my stuff!” she screeched out.

“Look, there is stuff in there with my name on it. I can prove it to you.”

“I don’t care if you’re Barack Obama. I got this from the Dumpster. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. People don’t throw away things they want.”

“Listen. You can have it all. I just need the paperwork and that necklace. Please, it’s sentimental.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed her three twenties. She took off the necklace, handed it back to me, and set the suitcase flat and unzipped it. I grabbed the papers and realized that one of Jamie’s white T-shirts had made it into my suitcase. I reached for it.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so, little girl.”

My eyes welled up. I let go of the shirt and took a step back. Tears dropped from my cheeks onto the woman’s back as she started to zip the suitcase up. She turned and looked up at me. I was standing in the light of a streetlamp but my face must have been shadowed from her view.

“Are you cryin’?” she snapped.

I shook my head. She yanked the shirt out and handed it back to me without turning around.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

When she stood up, she huffed, “Cryin’ over a goddamned T-shirt. Imagine that.”

I held it to my face and inhaled. It still smelled like Jamie—like the earth, but warm and spicy, too.

I walked three blocks out of the way before heading back to my apartment building. Not wanting to surprise Dylan and Ashley, I took my book, T-shirt, necklace, and all of the papers up to the roof and waited for him to text me. I was freezing my ass off for the sake of teen love and premarital sex. I started feeling a little shame about that, so I was relieved to get a text from Dylan.

Dylan: It’s all clear. We didn’t do it. We had a nice dinner and watched TV. She’s not ready so we’re gonna wait. I have a major case of blue balls.

I chuckled.

Me: Don’t tell her that.

Dylan: I’m not an asshole.

Me: I know. TTYL

Dylan: Later, chica. Thanks again.