Page 28 of The Art of Loving Ellie
She gently strokes my hair, “Promise me you’ll keep your hair down.” We pull apart so she can look me in the eyes, and the smile she gives me warms my entire heart. “It suits you.”
Reaching up to feel my wild and loose strands, I’m freed by the knowledge that a part of me has changed. A piece of the ridged and uptight version of myself has finally broken loose, and I fully intend to keep it that way.
∞∞∞
Getting off the train, I make my way to Charlie’s. I’ve got a serious craving for a house black coffee and a little taste of normalcy. It started snowing early this morning and the warmth of my favorite coffee shop envelopes me, making me forget all about the icy chill outside. As usual, the smell of freshly ground coffee makes me salivate.
Walking up to the counter, I begin giving the barista my order, only to be interrupted by Sue Anne shrieking my name, “Ellie!” She’s all smiles as she comes around to greet me, and I giggle at her when she waves her hands around excitedly.
“I haven’t seen you in forever! I was afraid something bad may have happened to you.” She's bear-hugging me, making it difficult to breathe or answer her. When she finally releases me, I ease her concerns, “I’m sorry to have worried you! I was in Texas visiting my aunt.”
As promised, I’ve left my long auburn locks free of their ponytail prison, and Sue’s eyes widen, taking me in for a moment.
“Did you get your hair done? I love it. How do you get it to wave so naturally like that?”
I have to admit that it’s taken some getting used to embracing this new style. I run my hand through the strands self-consciously. Just like the mystery woman Tyler portrayed me to be in his photos, I have taken on a new persona. Except, this one is here to stay.
The line is growing behind me quickly, and I tell her to give me a second to order. “Oh, but your order has already been placed?” she says, mirroring the same confused look I’m giving her.
The barista hands me a paper cup, full of coffee, with a white sticker across the middle. I squint my eyes as I look at the little printed message:
Have a great day at work, I can’t wait to see you this
weekend.
– T
I can feel my cheeks burning as Sue Anne whistles low. “Girl! Who is T, and when can I meet him?” It doesn’t pass my notice that he’s assuming I’m coming to Thanksgiving.
“Well actually, you sort of have met him before. He was the one in the library corner that day you were overwhelmed by the stock market guys.” I give her a teasing look. “If my memory is correct, I believe you said he was a 'hottie that you would be happy to serve'.” It’s her turn to blush, and we laugh together as we step out of line.
I turn the cup around to see the words again. “How did he do this?”
“He must have used our app to place the order online.” She shrugs, but I smile, flattered that he would make the effort to surprise me like this.
Giving Sue Anne a parting hug, she walks me out, waving me on my way, and I think back to when I made it home from Texas. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. It was as if the city looked brand new and I suddenly had a fresh perspective on my life here. I’m seeing things in a new light, and excitement flitters through my body as I start my journey to Marpines.
Taking my phone out of my coat pocket, I remove my glove with my teeth and send a message to Tyler.
E: It would appear that Creepy Chris knows exactly what I like. Thank you for the coffee.
T: You’re very welcome.
A few moments go by before I see the small conversation bubble pop up, indicating he is typing again.
T: Does this mean I’ll be seeing you this weekend?
I stare at his message for a while before responding, and I start to bite at my lip nervously. Meeting his family ishuge. If I say yes, that means I’m going to have to start knocking down those walls around my heart that I’ve spent so many years building.
I think of my aunt and her lost love with William, and for once, I’m going to do the opposite of what I think I should do.
E: Yes.
Locking my phone, a fresh sense of optimism washes over me as I enter the cold, complacent lobby and greet the receptionist on my way to the studio.
“Hello, Margaux.” She responds by staring at me like I’m covered in spots, but not even Margaux can rain on my blissful parade. It’s like I’ve taken some sort of happy pill, and I’m basking in the side effects.
The elevator beeps, signaling my stop on the fifth floor and I all but bounce into our suite. I’m dying to tell Alex about my trip, and my decision to change up my current love life situation.
