Off the Menu

by Stacey Ballis

  I doze off, but the sound of RJ coming back wakes me. Not only has he brought me both lemon and orange Gatorade and saltines and Imodium, but a stack of trashy magazines, a deck of cards, some old fashioned lemon drops, a crossword book, and a leopard-print Snuggie. I spend the better part of the day in and out of both the bathroom and consciousness. RJ watches television, does crossword puzzles, and finishes my laundry. By five o’clock it has been more than two hours since I threw up, and I think I can make it home.

  “Will you be awfully disappointed to leave tonight?”

  “Of course not, honey. I’m sure you just want to be home. I’ll get the car all packed up.”

  The drive home is pretty quiet; I’m totally out of it. We listen to NPR, and I doze a little bit. When we get to my house he heats up some broth for me, and makes some dry toast. He runs out and picks up some sorbet, which goes down smooth and cold and sweet and is the perfect thing. The worst of it seems to have passed, but I still have that icky feeling that it could come back any minute.

  “So, what’s your pleasure, should I stay or should I go?”

  “I’d love for you to stay, but I will totally understand if you want to go. This has been a bust of a weekend.”

  “Hey, not at all. I’m just so sorry you got sick. But if you’re up for me staying, I would love to stay. And we can still spend the day together tomorrow; we can just cuddle up here and watch old movies.”

  “I’d like that. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  “It’s my job. I plan on taking good care of you for as long as you’ll let me.”

  “I plan to let you for as long as you’ll do it.”

  “Good girl. I’m going to take this pooch for a walk. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. We shall return. C’mon, boy, let’s go for a walk!”

  And this time Dumpling doesn’t look back at me when RJ attaches the leash.

  19

  I arrive at Maria’s house about twenty minutes late for the meeting with the At Our Core Foundation Board of Trustees, which is the arm of Maria’s charitable organization that is in charge of the nutrition in schools program and the new culinary internship program. I hate being late. I always feel as if it makes me look scattered and unprofessional. As a result, I’m often early, since I give myself ample time to get everywhere. Sometimes I’m ridiculously early, which is why I always have books and such in my car, since frequently I have to sit and wait for twenty or thirty minutes until it is appropriate to actually show up for my appointments.

  And I was, of course, completely on schedule to be here on time, except Patrick had a fit to pitch, and this time it was directed at me. I’d spent the weekend in New York with RJ, going to art galleries and meeting friends and spending time with Bennie and eating fabulously. We’d stayed at the Waldorf, shopped in SoHo, and eaten rice pudding from Rice to Riches for an afternoon snack every day. It was wonderful and easy and he showed me a New York I’d never seen. I’d patently refused to answer my phone, respond to inane stealth messages, or reply to e-mails. Not one thing Patrick tried to engage me in all weekend had any actual merit—it was all about what should he do about this woman he’d slept with once in LA who has now moved to Chicago and seems to think they should be spending a lot of time together. Or did I think that he should start working with a different personal trainer because he feels like he now knows what he has to say to his current one to get him to back off a bit, and maybe he would do better with someone new he would feel compelled to impress. Or why had I let him go so long without watching The Wire, which is clearly the best television show ever made. I ignored him completely for two and a half days, sending a quick note that I was in New York, and would be happy to chat Monday morning.

  This did not go over well.

  “Seriously, Alana, what the fuck?” He laid into me pretty much as soon as we were done taping for the day. “You get a boyfriend and suddenly you go off the reservation?” His tone when he says “boyfriend” is as dismissive as he can make it.

  “Patrick, it was the weekend. I was out of town. Yes, with my boyfriend. Nothing you sent me had anything to do with work, so I chose to not interrupt my time away to offer you advice on women, working out, or your television habits. I’m allowed to have weekends, you know? We’re heading into crazy time, we’ve got a guest shoot on Today, we’ve got the Charleston Food and Wine Festival, and we have to shoot next year’s Thanksgiving and Christmas specials. We’re balls to the wall for the next month, and I wanted to have a nice weekend away with RJ before he has to put up with my schedule going all wonky.”

  “Fine for you, but this is the job, Alana, you know that. This is not a nine-to-five gig.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “All I’m saying is that you have to call me back, respond to me. You had no way of knowing if there might not be some work stuff I would have wanted to go over with you.”

  “You’re right, because nothing you sent me was about work. I’ll make a deal with you. I will never ignore your messages or notes when they specifically mention work.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You going to tell me what this is really about?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Well, you’d better figure out how soon, because Patrick? This? It’s not good for us. I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want you feeling frustrated with me. But there has to be space.”

  “Fair enough. Besides, it’s not forever.”

  “Oh yeah, why is that?”

  “Well, you know … relationships, this business. You said yourself, look at our schedule. You’re like me, Alana; ultimately work will always come first. I mean, he seems nice, and I’m glad you’re having a bit of fun, but eventually he’ll leave, and you’ll let him because our life is easier without complications.”

  I can’t even believe he said that. Everyone in my life, everyone who loves me and cares about my well-being is so excited about my relationship with RJ. And here is one of the people who should be so happy and hopeful for me, and he is saying that the relationship is doomed to failure, and worse, that he is sort of biding his time waiting for it.

  “That is a really shitty thing to say.”

  “It’s just the way of the world. It’s not personal. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, the stats have to be higher for non-legal dating things.” He is so matter-of-fact, as if he isn’t trying to hurt me but just speaking basic truths. “Hey, maybe you’re the exception that proves the rule, but be realistic, the chances aren’t great. It’s just much more likely that you guys will hang out for a while and then you won’t. I’m not saying it will be some ugly thing, I’m just saying that the odds are that this isn’t forever. So I’m not going to get my panties in a twist about you slacking a bit for the time being. Boyfriends come and go; Patrick is forever.” He smiles and rumples my hair.

  “Patrick. Be careful. Because I have to say, if you ask me to choose, I might not choose you.” My chest tightens, especially since I don’t want to think about the possibility that he might be right.

  “No one has to choose anything. Time will out. Besides, I’ve got you on contract for another three years!” He laughs, and I know I have to leave before I completely lose my mind.

  “I’ve got to go, I’ve got a meeting. I’d prefer to not continue this conversation so that I don’t say something I’ll regret.”

  “Why? Are you on the rag?”

  That’s it. I have to get out. I give him a look that I hope is appropriately withering, and leave without saying another word, just turn on my heel and walk away. I hit traffic on the way to Maria’s, and by the time I arrive, they are already under way. I sneak in and grab a seat. Mel winks at me, and Maria jokingly looks at her watch and raises an eyebrow. We hear reports from the charter schools, and Mel talks about the intern program and how great the students are doing. Maria asks about how thing
s are going with trying to make inroads with the rest of the school system, and Rachel, the executive director of the Foundation, says that they have the support of the mayor and his wife, and some positive initial meetings with the teachers union. Various board members ask questions, which get answered, offer program advice, which is duly noted, and talk about fund-raising ideas.

  My stomach is in knots. I can hear all of the wonderful things that the Foundation is achieving, but nothing really sinks in. All I can think about is stupid Patrick and his blathering. I have to try to squelch the fears that it brings up for me. RJ and I have been talking easily and blithely about forever. We talk about when we are going to live together, and he makes comments about things he likes in his soon- to-be-new neighborhood, since he reluctantly agrees that trying to cram us into his adorable bungalow would be the death of us both, and is still “trying to get his head around” the reality of moving into my place. I’ve offered to give it up and look for something new together to start fresh, but he says he does like my place very much and believes it makes a lot of sense to live there together. We joke about Lacey renting his house, since she has been getting the itch to move, and Jaxie would love his area, so close to a big park and with a lovely little backyard. We’ve talked about the trips we are going to take and the parties we want to have. We are hosting our first joint dinner party next week, a blend of his friends and mine, at my house. For the first time in my adult life I’m in a relationship where I feel completely myself, utterly at ease, and slowly letting go of my fears about the future. So why is it that there is a part of me that is struggling not to believe Patrick? I believe that the love I feel is real and permanent; it grows deeper every day. And I believe that RJ feels the same way. And he is completely supportive of my work and my schedule. At least so far. But then I remember that we’ve only really been together for four months, even though we had nearly a month and a half of meaningful communication before we met.

  I shake my head. This is stupid. My parents met, got married, and emigrated to the U.S. in the span of three months. Sasha and Jenny got engaged after dating for six months. Alexei and Sara spontaneously got married in Vegas when they were there for her college roommate’s wedding after they had only been together just under a year. And yes, I married Andres after only three weeks, but we aren’t really going to count that. I was young and dumb and in Spain and drinking a lot of Rioja. The bottom line is, when we fall for real, my people, we fall hard and fast. I don’t want to play games or follow someone else’s timeframe. Bennie and Barry both think that I am not crazy in the least to be talking forever with RJ. Maria thinks it is the coolest thing ever. Mina, Emily, and Lacey have a bet going as to when the proposal is going to occur, with a round of breakfast burritos at Lula on the line.

  So why the fuck can’t Patrick get with the program? Why does he have to be so negative? He has one divorce under his belt and no actual relationships since then. Suddenly he is the expert on love?

  “Alana? Anything to add?” Melanie says.

  Uh-oh. Crap. I really have not heard anything that has been said in the past five minutes. “Nope, I think that pretty much covers it.” I hope they don’t notice my cop-out.

  “Good,” says Rachel. “I think that does it. Thank you all so much for your work and for your input tonight, we really appreciate it. Thank you, Maria, for hosting. We’ll see you month after next. The meeting will be at Melanie’s new South Loop location. Alana, if you have a moment?”

  Everyone chats a bit while gathering their stuff together, and I walk over to sit with Rachel.

  “So, how do you feel about the new program?” she asks, sipping water and clearly relaxing a bit after having to lead the meeting, which is a little bit like herding cats. The good part about the board of trustees for Maria’s foundation is that they are very engaged. The bad news is that they are very engaged, and it can often be difficult to keep them focused and to gently let them know that the staff actually knows what it’s doing. They love to come up with big new ideas, and keeping them excited and motivated, and generous—while gently explaining that launching a city-wide cooking competition for kids with the grand prize being an appearance on Maria’s show is not exactly connected to our mission of nutrition education—is a full-time and often thankless job.

  “I think it is going great. I’ve spoken with Kai and he is very excited about how they are doing, and thinks that all eight of them will finish the program strong. He is fairly certain that four of them are likely to accept the scholarships if offered, and two more are on the fence. For a first run, I think that is pretty amazing.”

  “Kai said that the students really responded to you, and that the curriculum you all put together seems very manageable and replicable. He even thinks that you might be able to train regular classroom teachers in being able to run the program.”

  “We did try to create something that a passionate and skilled home cook could manage, since there are always a few of those on any teaching staff. We also think a talented culinary student would be able to teach it.”

  “Alana, I’m not going to beat around the bush. This program is prime for expansion, both as a program we run ourselves and a program we could teach to others who want to have it for their school. As you know, our mission is to have both deep and broad impact. We want the students in our programs to have more than just a surface experience; we want it to change their lives meaningfully. And we want to work with as many of them as we can. But we know that in terms of systematic impact, our best bet is to train teachers. If we work with a thousand students, we impact a thousand students, which is amazing. But if we work with a thousand teachers, we can impact as many as a hundred thousand students a year, every year those teachers teach. That is when we really start to see change.”

  I love Rachel. She is calm and to the point, but it is so clear how passionate she is about this work. I know that she works endless hours for minimal pay, but she seems so deeply rewarded by it all, I’m often envious of how completely her job seems to make her life richer.

  “That is very exciting.”

  “We think so too. But if we are going to expand the direct program with kids and add a teacher-training component, then we are going to need a program director who can handle all of that. And we think you’d be the perfect person.”

  Wow. “Rachel, that is so flattering, but I don’t think I would have the time to do it justice, even the little bit of work I did this time around was at about the limit of disposable hours that I could carve out.”

  “You misunderstand me, Alana. This isn’t asking you to do more as a volunteer. We are offering you a full-time position. We can’t begin to match your current salary or benefits package, and we know that. And of course we will completely understand if you have to turn us down as a result. But I have watched you at these meetings and I see the joy and personal fulfillment you have gotten from helping create this program, and I think that can be worth more than money. I’ve put together a packet detailing our offer.” She hands me a thick manila envelope. “While it is full-time, it is probably still many fewer hours than you currently work. For now, you would mostly be working at home, but we will have an office for you at the Foundation offices. You would report directly to me, but would have a tremendous amount of autonomy to mold and shape the program the way you think it should be. Take some time to read through it, think about it, mull it over. We’re just in the beginning stages of laying out what this program is going to look like, but we wanted to plant the idea in your head. Let’s plan on meeting before the next board meeting to see what you think.”

  I stroke the envelope. It contains the possibility of a whole new life, which is in equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

  “Rachel, thank you, for even thinking of me. I don’t begin to know what to say or how to respond except to say that I am very honored, and I promise I will give it serious thought.”

  “That’s all we can ask. Why don’t you and I plan on meeting at
the Foundation offices about two hours before the next meeting to talk about this, and then we can go to the meeting together.”

  “Great.”

  “And in the meantime, please call or e-mail me with any questions the materials may bring up for you. I will tell you that we put together a salary and benefits package at the very limit of what the Foundation can manage financially. We have tried to honor that you would be taking a step back from what you are used to. So, unfortunately, there isn’t wiggle room there. But if you have questions or concerns about anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. To a certain extent, the job will be yours to create from scratch, so there will be a lot of flexibility in that area.”

  “Thanks, Rachel. I will be in touch if anything comes up.”

  Rachel gets up and gathers her belongings. “For what it’s worth, Alana? I was a six-figure consultant with partnership on the horizon when I left to take this job. But I was busy eighteen hours a day, my life was work and work and more work, and the work itself, while I was very good at it, never really fulfilled me that much. I don’t wear the designer clothes or six-hundred-dollar shoes anymore, and the Spa at the Peninsula misses me a lot. I’m driving my current car until the wheels fall off, and I haven’t ordered a bottle of wine over forty dollars in seven years. But I love my life.”

  “Thanks, Rachel.”

  “Thank you. No one will be offended if you turn this down, Alana. We know we are shooting for the moon here. And we’ll be grateful for whatever continued support you can give. But take the money out of the equation and think about the life you want. The rest is just noise.”

  She winks at me, and walks away.

  RJ is waiting for me when I get home, sitting on the couch with Dumpling watching the Cubs lose.