by Julia Wolf
Me: Look what I’m wearing!
Him: The socks! When you said, “look what I’m wearing,” I expected a different kind of picture.
Me: Ha, sorry to disappoint. I love my socks, though.
Him: Send me another picture.
I looked down at myself. Nothing about my tank top and leggings screamed sexy. I held my phone out and took a picture.
Him: You’re killing me with the finger biting. Why are you so cute?
Me: Just being silly!
Him: Keep sending me silly pictures like that, I’ll take them anytime.
Me: I love selfies, you know not what you ask for. How about you send me a picture?
Him: I am not a selfie taker, but here you go.
When I opened the picture he sent me, I almost swallowed my tongue. Joe sat leaning back on a couch, his eyes looked sleepy and heavy lidded, his hair messy, like he’d been running his hand through it all night. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I drank in his olive skin, the dark hair sprinkling his chest, the definition of his pecs and abs. His body was long and lean and looked perfect to me. What I wouldn’t give to trace my fingers over each line and muscle.
Me: That was a sneak attack! You didn’t give me a chance to prepare for that.
Him: Sorry! Are we not at shirtless level?
Me: You should always be shirtless, Joe. Burn your shirts!
Him: LOL, don’t think my boss would approve.
Me: I’m going to go stare at your picture now. Not in an objectifying way of course.
Him: Of course. Talk soon.
Me: Goodnight!
Him: I really miss hanging out with you.
Me: Me too. Stupid work and responsibilities getting in the way.
It had been a jam-packed day, and I was finally sitting down for the first time, stuffing pasta into my mouth at my kitchen table. Texting with Joe had quickly become my reward and habit after work.
Him: Now that the band concert’s over, I have more time and could come down…
I sighed and thought about when I would have a day off. Lately, I’d been working seven days a week and I felt my breaking point looming.
Me: I’d love that. But I’m booked solid right now. I have no life.
Him: If I could see you for ten minutes, I would be happy.
Me: Really? That sounds like torture. Not enough Joe time.
Him: Have you thought about easing up your schedule a bit? Just so you can have a life outside of work?
Me: It’s been on my mind lately, honestly.
Him: Just so you know, I support you completely and am so proud that you’ve made yourself a success. I’m just selfish and want to see you soon.
Me: We’ll figure something out. It sure would be easier to be IRL friends if we lived in the same state.
Him: And that’s happening really soon. So prepare, I’m kind of an intense friend. I demand a lot of attention. What’s your favorite color, by the way?
Me: Ha, why?
Him: Humor me, sweet girl. Isn’t that something friends know about each other?
Me: I suppose? Blue, all shades of blue. You?
Him: I like green. Whatever the color of your eyes is called, that’s my favorite.
Me: Oh, what a smooth line! Funny guy!
Him: No lines, just truth.
Me: Well, thanks then. I’m wrecked, I’m going to turn in.
Him: Did I creep you out?
Me: No way, you’ve been far creepier before. LOL.
Him: Ha ha, okay, talk soon, sweet girl.
Me: And hopefully see you soon! Goodnight, Joe!
Him: Goodnight, Rachel!
Twelve
Mannequin heads surrounded me. Usually I liked them, but today, it felt like they were closing in on me.
“I hold the hair like this? Is that right?”
“Almost! Here, hold it at an exact forty-five-degree angle, then use your razor. The razor will give you a softer line.”
I stood behind my hair mannequin, demonstrating a haircut step by step. I was teaching a hair-cutting class at a small salon near Tiber City and the stylists were talented and experienced enough that teaching them was a breeze. Normally, this was my bag. These were my people. I loved the give and take of working with people in the industry. But I had been working non-stop for weeks and my heart just wasn’t in it anymore.
“Anybody have questions, or are you ready to move on to the next step?”
After I finished their class, I raced to the next salon and taught the same haircut to another set of stylists. Before I went in, I sat in my car doing deep breathing exercises. I was tired. Tired of all the rushing around, tired of not having time for myself, and lately, tired of not being able to see Joe.
When I made up my mind to do something, I usually had to act right away or I would back down. So when I finished my second teaching job, I called Anthony.
“Hello, beautiful, I was just about to call you,” Anthony said when he answered his phone.
“Hi, honey. The jobs today were great. Everyone left happy. How’s Mark?” I asked. In his sixties, Anthony had a raspy smoker’s voice, and was one of my favorite people in the world, along with his husband, Mark. The two of them had been my lifeline in the years leading up to my divorce. When I’d been miserable at home, they took me in, cooked me dinners, and showed me what a real, loving marriage looked like—something I hadn’t seen growing up and certainly not anything like my own.
“Fantastic as always, dear. Mark demands you come over for dinner sometime soon. It’s been too long. Now, to what do I owe this pleasure? I’m the one usually calling you, begging you to do a job.”
Anthony usually called first, but he never begged. That extra cash from the jobs he found for me had opened up the possibility for me to leave my marriage and make it on my own, and later, to become partners with Eliza at the salon.
“Tell Mark I’m dying to see him and I would love to come to dinner as soon as I have a spare second. And that brings me to the reason for my call. Please don’t hate me, but I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off lately. I need to quit teaching,” I rushed out the last part.
“My darling, I hate to hear you sound stressed! I’m disappointed, but you know I understand. Now, I’m going to have to beg because I have a really big job I am desperate for you to do.”
“Anthony…”
“Listen, Eliza called and turned me down for the platform gig. Not surprising, but I still had to shuffle people around to fill that spot,” he said.
“Damn, I really hoped she would do it. She didn’t tell me she turned it down.”
“We’ll keep working on her. Maybe start smaller next time. Now, as for you, I know you’re done. But this is a big one. Main stage, International Hair Show at the Javits Center. You’ll be demoing a haircut and a multi-dimensional color for Wella. How can you turn that down? Main stage, my dear!”
The butterflies in my stomach went crazy the second Anthony mentioned “main stage.”
“Gah! I called to quit.” Damn it, I felt way too tempted. This was huge! When I thought of the amount of exposure it would bring to the salon, breathing became an issue.
“And quit you did. I promise, no more teaching gigs. But you know as well as I do the exposure from the hair show will bring business to the salon. The only catch is it’s next weekend,” he said.
The International Hair Show was the largest hair show in the country. Held in New York City at a massive convention center, businesses in the industry set up booths to sell their wares, and hair color companies sponsored demos of their products on models. I had worked the show before on a small platform, but the main stage was big time. I wished I wasn’t sitting in my car because a moment like this really called for some Running Man.
“Okay, okay, twist my arm why don’t you! I’ll do it! Text me the info. But this is it, no more jobs!” I said sternly. I fanned my face with my hand. I didn’t know whether I should laugh, freak out, or cry. This wasn’t what I’d
been expecting when I picked up the phone, so I needed time to process everything.
“I heard you loud and clear, my dear. Ciao!”
I sat for a while, clutching my phone to my chest. Wow. That just happened.
Since I was already in Baltimore, I drove over to Frannie’s apartment.
“Hey, girl, what a nice surprise,” she said when she opened the door. She gave me a loud smooch on each of my cheeks and let me in. Laurel was laying on their love seat, shoeless and wearing a pantsuit.
“Hey! I had a teaching job nearby, so I thought I’d pop in.” I flopped down on their couch.
“I will only tolerate pop-ins from you.” Frannie sat down beside me.
“I haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up, lady?” Laurel asked.
I held my hand out, palm up. “The usual. Working way too much, no life, etcetera.”
“That’s pretty much the story of my life these days too.” She hopped up off the couch. “I’m going to get changed out of my work clothes. Don’t talk about anything salacious until I get back,” she called over her shoulder as she went into her room.
Even though she was silly a lot of the time around us, Laurel worked as an attorney who focused on corporate law. One of her colleagues had handled my divorce, so I stopped by to see her whenever I was at the firm. Once, I waited in her office while she finished a conference call, and witnessing Laurel in her element, using technical financial jargon that flew way over my head, made me look at her differently. Laurel was the whole package, beauty and brains.
I turned toward Frannie. “I quit my teaching gig today.”
Frannie raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Something had to give. Most weeks I don’t have a full day off,” I explained.
“I always tell you you work way too much! You come into the salon when you’re supposed to be off. You’re there more than Eliza! You don’t have to be there every second.” She lightly slapped my knee. “I’m happy you decided to give yourself a break.”
“The only thing is I’m booked for one more job.”
She frowned at me and shook her head.
“Wait, wait. Before you say anything, tell me if you would have turned this down: International Hair Show…New York City...main stage for Wella,” I said, pausing dramatically between each point.
Frannie bounced in her seat. “Rachel, what? Congratulations, that’s awesome! I completely get why you didn’t turn that down. That’s next weekend, right?”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to shift a bunch of appointments around so I can take the days off work. But I’m going to do it!”
My mind was already bouncing around all the clients I would have to call and how I’d have to grow a third arm to squeeze them into my already packed schedule. Oh well, totally worth it.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’m totally going with you. You know that, right?” Frannie nodded her head, as if to get me to agree.
“Damn right you’re coming with me!”
“I just thought of something: Joe lives in New York. Are you going to see him?” she asked.
I chewed on the corner of my lip. “Um, maybe? I don’t want to intrude on his life.”
We had been texting every day, and he made me smile more than anyone else lately, but I wasn’t sure where things were going. Sometimes it felt like we were both treading very carefully, trying not to spook each other.
“Rachel, you drive me crazy sometimes! It’s not intrusive to tell your friend you’re going to be in town and want to meet up.” Frannie shook her head at me again. I swear I had a healthy self-image, but I was incredibly insecure about where I stood with Joe. I just kept thinking about how wrong I’d been in the past.
“You’re right. I’ll let him know and see what he says. We’re going to New York!” Frannie and I stood up and did a little celebratory dance. (Mine was, of course, the nineties classic, the Roger Rabbit.)
That evening, I texted Joe.
Hey, buster, I have exciting news!
A few minutes later, he sent a request to video chat.
“What’s up, sweet girl?”
Joe was outside, sitting on concrete steps.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m outside my friend’s building. I was at his apartment, but I didn’t want to share you with him, so I’m on his stoop. What’s your news?” Joe asked. The sun had almost set, his face surrounded by shadows. I wanted to see him more clearly, but like a starving man, any little morsel of Joe tasted delicious and I always wanted more.
“I actually have two pieces of news to share. Today I got hired to work the main stage at the International Hair Show, which is a huge deal for my career. It’s the biggest industry event each year. And my favorite hair color company hired me, which makes it even more exciting.”
“That sounds incredible, Rachel. I know how hard you’ve worked. I don’t really know what goes on at a hair show, but I’m so happy for you.”
And Joe did look genuinely thrilled. He listened to me intently, nodding along at my words.
“For a hairstylist, going to a big hair show is like a kid at Disneyland. There’s so much to see, it’s overwhelming at times, but exhilarating too. I always come away inspired to try all the new techniques I learned on my clients.”
“They should hire you to do their PR. I feel like I want to go to this hair show now.” He grinned. “You have me convinced.”
“Ha, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t find it as fun as I’m making it sound,” I laughed, “but being asked to demo on the main stage is such a huge and flattering surprise. And god, it’s going to be big for our business. I can’t even wrap my head around it. Especially since I just intended to quit my teaching job and ended up with this gig.”
“I hope you didn’t quit teaching because of something I said.” I could see the look of concern on his face, even in the shadows.
“No, definitely not, but our conversation kind of cemented in my mind that I had to make a decision. Honestly, I’m just tired. It feels like I’ve been working without a break for three years straight. I want to travel, date, hang out with friends more, actually have time to clean my apartment and then enjoy its cleanliness!” My free hand was in a fist, pounding the air with each point.
“I’m glad you’re going to have more time to talk to me now,” he teased.
“I always make time for you,” I replied softly. My eyes moved over his striking features staring back at me from my phone screen.
“Date, huh?”
In the dimming light, his expression was hard to read, but I thought he didn’t look too pleased.
“Yeah, I mean it’s been two years since David and I split up, so I think it’s time and I’m ready.”
“You haven’t been with anyone for two years?” Joe seemed taken aback.
“I said I haven’t dated! I didn’t say anything about sex,” I pointed out.
He nodded, seeming to take this information in.
“So, you want a boyfriend?” He was clearly not done with this topic.
“I think I do, if I find the right guy. The best part about being married was being part of a couple, having someone to come home to. And little things like how he took out the trash, and I did the dishes. He cleaned the sinks, I scrubbed the tub. I know that sounds silly, but I miss having a partner. David was a shitty partner, but I still miss it.”
“That actually sounds really nice.”
Lowering my voice, I continued, “Kissing. I miss kissing someone whenever I want. And the sex. I miss regular sex. I want someone to know my body, inside and out.” What would it be like for Joe to know my body like that?
He made a strangled sound, then wiped one hand down his face and groaned.
“You’re killing me!”
“Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think we’re friends who talk about our sex lives, are we?” From the heat radiating off my face, I knew my cheeks had to be bright pink. I only hoped Joe didn
’t notice.
“I’m not sure I want to know about your sex life, Rachel,” he said, an edge in his voice.
“I won’t say another word about it, promise! I’m so sorry I crossed a friendship boundary.” I wanted to crawl into a hole.
“It’s not that at all, it’s just...forget it.” Joe obviously wanted to change the subject.
“Didn’t you say you had two pieces of news?”
“Ah, nice segue,” I said. “Well, I told you all about my thrilling hair show, but I didn’t tell you the location.”
“Tell me, do you get to travel to distant lands for this Disneyland-like experience?” He laughed.
“Not so distant actually. It’s at the Javits Center. I’ll be in your city!” I wasn’t able to keep the excitement from my voice.
“What? You’re coming here?” Joe grinned from ear to ear. “Now that you’re a main-stage stylist, are you going to have time to see a peasant like me?”
I cackled, relieved we had gotten past the momentary awkwardness.
“Can we have dinner after the show Saturday night?” I asked hopefully.
“I would love to take you to dinner. I feel bad I don’t know this, but what kind of food do you like? I know you liked greasy diner food and brewery sandwiches.”
“I still love greasy diner food. I will cut you if you try to take my cheesy fries,” I joked.
“I seem to remember you threatening to stab me with your fork when I tried to take your last fry.” He chuckled.
“Oh god, I did, didn’t I? No wonder you weren’t into me!” I groaned inwardly when that slipped out of my mouth.
“Oh, Rachel…”
I stopped him before he could say anything else. “Anyway, I like any kind of food, really. And I’m always willing to try something new.”
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, which I had come to realize he did whenever he contemplated something.
“Okay, sweet girl, I’m going to ponder this and take you somewhere you’ll love. I promise not to touch the food on your plate without asking,” he said with a grin.
“Deal. Oh! I forgot to tell you, I saw the name Maya Patel on my appointment book for tomorrow. Is that the Maya Patel?” I asked.
