Page 21 of To Feel Like This Again
“Anytime.”
“Catching up with your cousins?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to see who I am messaging.
“No, why?”
“Because you look focused, like you’re having one of those debates in your family group.”
“No, no,” I laugh, conscious that I may have come across as matter of fact. “One of the young, promising executives that I met in Jamaica is visiting his family in New York and wants to schedule an appointment with me to better understand how he can progress in the company. Like all the other Jamaican executives, he insists on calling me Mrs Davis, which makes the conversation seem very formal… and makes me feel very old.” I stretch out my arm, holding the phone to show him the message that he no longer has any interest in seeing.
“That’s great, hun. You should invite him to join us for dinner,” he suggests, always eager to invite people over to show off the luxury home he had guilted me into buying, when I had wanted a much smaller house in the suburbs. On his tour, he will be sure to flaunt the state-of-the-art squash court that he insisted was necessary for the look and feel of the neighbourhood. He has never used it once, despite paying a monthly fee to maintain it. Men and their egos.
“Okay, I’ll let him know.”
The waitress pauses by our table, holding her black server book “Excuse me, will you be paying with cash or card?” There is a moment of silence. Alex looks at me, and I look at him. The waitress shifts her gaze from Alex to me and back again.
I always pay the bill, except on my birthday. Although, I had actually paid it on my last birthday because his credit cards had declined (again, I’m not going down that road today). I think back to the last few days, Nick had paid for everything… even the chewing gum at the service station. He had asked me, “Gum?” by the cashier counter, knowing he would be kissing me in a few hours. Knowing I would kiss him back. His confidence was a big turn on. He was such a good kisser. And, I loved that thing he did with his tongue. I didn’t even know kissing could be like that.
“I’ll give you a few more minutes. Let me know when you’re ready,” the waitress says hesitantly, forcing a smile and working hard for her tip.
“Cash,” I respond, opening my purse to use the cash I had withdrawn for the Jamaica trip, but never spent much of.
Twenty minutes later, Alex drops me off at the office, and I’m not sure why but I had expected a kiss on the cheek along with a “See you later babe.”On second thought, I know why… I almost missed my flight earlier today because right before I got out of the car at the airport, Nick had kissed me on the cheek. And when he saw how much I liked it, he went for my neck. He couldn’t stop kissing me… and I couldn’t resist him. And then one thing led to another and before I knew it, we were having car sex. What a rush!
Sitting at my desk, I review the P&Ls for all the subsidiaries, taking the time to comprehensively go through the ones that recorded a decline in net profit year-over-year and making notes to send follow-up questions to the respective general managers. Without taking a break, I catch up on the over nine hundred unread emails that had piled up in my inbox the few days I was away. I’m copied on way too many emails. Only six hundred left to go. Normally, I’d be irritated to be siftingthrough such an absurd number in order to find the relevant ones, but today I feel unbothered.
Nothing can dampen my mood.
Getting up to use the rest room, I see my reflection in the mirror and as I wash my hands I am reminded of this morning. We had had sex in the shower and then by the sink with me bending over.This was a first for me.
I return to my desk and plough through half of the six hundred unread emails before reviewing the business cases for upcoming capex projects.
At 11:45pm, it is time to head home, the activities of my weekend finally catching up with me. I am spent. I call Alex but his phone rings without an answer. Probably fast asleep on the couch, exhausted from watching a football game and checking on his “investments” or whatever else he does in his daily routine. I hate to rant, but it can be so frustrating at times.Ugh.
Instead of calling him a second time, I get an Uber.
I don’t need a man to be “successful” or earn as much money as I do… but I’d really love someone to be doing something meaningful in life. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
I’d also like my partner to be thoughtful. If I’m working late, a simple message or call to check up on me would mean a lot. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
When I open the front door, I am surprised to hear Emily’s voice, “Hey Lisa, did you have a good time in Jamaica?” She’s in the kitchen, sitting at the island with a glass of wine.
“It was a work trip sweetie… not a vacation.”
“You’re so lame.”
“Says the 32-year-old who has an apartment in the city but insists on sleeping at her family home and hanging out with old people,” I fire back, taking off my jacket.
“Why are you here anyway?” I ask, not sure I’m ready to hear the truth. Emily having a glass of wine, by herself, on a Monday night at our home… can’t be a good thing.
“I just had a shitty day that’s all,” she sighs, then puts the glass to her lips. “But I don’treallywant to talk about it.”
Reallybeing the operative word.
“Tell me what happened?” I insist, pulling up a bar stool beside her, my motherly instincts taking over. I will do anything to help her.Anything.You name it.
“Um, I met a really cute guy on the weekend. He asked me out to dinner tonight and I naively said, yes. He picked out the perfect restaurant and made reservations. Over dinner, the conversation was going really well because he’s funny and really intelligent. He’s on track to become a partner at a major law firm. But when it was time to pay the bill, he suggested that we go dutch on our first date. That’s a big red flag for me, especially after what I’ve been through with you know who. So, I was kind of bummed out and wanted company.”
“Oh sweetie, come here,” I open my arms and hug her. Unfortunately, this is perhaps the one thing I can’t help her with in life… finding a good man. “Don’t worry about that loser. In no time, you’ll meet someone,” I assure her.
