by Grey, S. R.
Mrs. Fielding, a nice, unassuming middle-aged lady, welcomes me into her office. We shake hands, and she motions for me to take a seat across from her desk.
“Please, make yourself comfortable, Ms. Shelburne.” she says.
I thank her as I sit down and cross my legs, carefully so my skirt doesn’t ride up.
Mrs. Fielding stops at a little cart littered with bottled waters, a full coffeepot, and Styrofoam cups. “Would you like anything to drink?” she asks. “The selections are limited, but I do have coffee and water.”
I see she’s pouring coffee for herself, so I ask for the same. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
May as well follow the piece of interview advice I came across last night, encouraging interviewees to ingratiate themselves with representatives of the company by showing just how alike you are, and thus how perfectly you’d fit in.
Look, I’m part of the team already! I try to convey as I accept the coffee from Mrs. Fielding. I take a sip exactly when she does. But then she looks at me strangely, especially when I set my cup down on the desk at the exact same second she does. I reconsider this strategy, thinking, hmm, maybe I’m laying it on a little too thickly.
I quickly pick up my coffee and take a big gulp. But yikes, it’s piping hot and I almost spit it out.
“You seem nervous,” Mrs. Fielding says, while I grimace, swallowing the burn in my throat.
“I am a little,” I admit once my mouth is no longer on fire.
“There’s no reason to feel uneasy, Ms. Shelburne. You come very highly recommended.” She pauses, and then adds, “By three parties, in fact. That’s why someone as young as yourself, and with no experience, is here for this interview. The position may be listed as entry-level, but we tend to fill even those with highly-qualified individuals.”
Gulp, I don’t know if that’s me.
But three parties have recommended me. Three. Interesting. I know Mrs. Fielding is not at liberty to divulge who any of them are, but that’s okay. I’m already aware Brent and Aubrey put in a good word for me. But did Nolan vouch for me, as well? Maybe he wants me to stick around for the long term. But what would that mean? Probably just that he wants more of the same. And that makes me sad.
I’m elated if he did indeed put a good word in for me, but we still need to end it. It still doesn’t make it any less depressing that he’s not ready for a relationship, and friendship is out for me.
I’m a little subdued when we get to the actual interview questions, but I think I do well. Mrs. Fielding seems very positive by the time we wrap up. I’m not offered the job on the spot or anything, but she makes a point of informing me that a decision will be made in the upcoming weeks, and that she’ll call me personally either way.
I leave feeling pretty good about things. But if I’ve learned anything from my experiences with Nolan, it’s that you can’t put all your eggs in one basket.
That’s why when, several days later, I receive a call from the college recruitment center at my former school—about an entry-level marketing position at an ad agency in Chicago—I agree to fly across the country for an interview.
“Chicago? Wow, that’s so far away,” Aubrey murmurs when I bring her up to speed on my suddenly very active interview schedule.
“I know,” I say, my eyes meeting hers. “I like being in the same city as you, but what can I do? I can’t work at the casino forever.”
“I know, Lain,” she says softly.
She and I have just finished dinner. It’s been just the two of us since Brent went away, but the team returns tomorrow. That means Brent will be back in town…and so will Nolan.
I need to talk to him to end things. He’s still not communicated with me, and frankly I’m more than done now. Too bad I’ll be halfway across the country when he returns. I guess I’ll have to wait till I come back to speak with him. Or I could always take the coward’s way out and text him my intentions to end things.
Maybe that’d be better, though. I wouldn’t have to face him. But then again, if I move to Chicago I’ll probably never face him again, as in I’ll likely rarely, if ever, see him.
I swallow hard at the thought, and my eyes tear up.
“Lainey, are you all right?” Aubrey asks, moving to the chair next to me.
I force a smile. “I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about, you know?”
“Hey.” She touches my forearm. “Are you sure about this interview in Chicago tomorrow? You really have to ask yourself if you’d truly be happy living all the way out there all alone?”
“You did it, and you were okay,” I counter, reminding her of the job she held before she worked directly for the Wolves. “Your last position was based in Chicago. That’s why you bought that townhouse you still hang onto.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”
I suddenly remember something from a few weeks ago, a random talk she and I had about her selling her townhouse. I bring it up now.
“Hey, I just thought of something. Do you remember when you mentioned that you were seriously thinking about selling the townhouse? This was back a month or so ago.”
“Yeah, I remember. Why?”
“Well, if you recall, I talked you out of it.” She slowly nods, I guess remembering, and I go on to say, “Maybe I had a premonition or something. I mean, what I’m saying is it’s a good thing you kept the townhouse. If I get the job, then I could live there, right?”
She smiles. “Of course, Lainey.”
“See,” I begin, mustering fake enthusiasm since I’m not really all that sure about a Chicago move. But that doesn’t stop me from insisting, “That’s one big thing already taken care of. It’s like this is all weirdly meant to be.”
Wow, clearly I’ll grasp at anything to make myself leave Nolan. That’s how badly I really don’t want to go. I can tell Aubrey’s not buying what I’m selling, but she refrains from saying as much.
Instead, she simply murmurs, “If you say so, Lainey.”
“Why are you not excited?” I ask. Really, I’m asking myself.
Aubrey replies, “I am excited, sweetheart. It’s just that I worry about you. Do you remember how lonely I was when I lived in Chicago? I don’t want you to end up feeling that way.”
I sigh. “It gets pretty lonely around here too, Aubs.”
She just about floors me when she then asks, for the first time ever in a positive way, about Nolan. “What about Solvenson? I thought you two were close these days.”
Okay, it’s mostly positive. I could’ve worked with that too, perhaps gotten Aubrey on board with the idea of me and him. She’s clearly softened on the guy. Too bad it’s too late.
Since there’s nothing left to lose, not anymore, I finally admit what I’ve been hiding for so long. “Nolan and I aren’t going to work out, Aubs. Not as friends…or as anything else. We tried both ways, and neither worked, so it’s over.”
Her gaze meets mine. “I’m really sorry, Lainey.”
“Yeah,” I snort. “Thank you for saying that, but it looks like you were right about him all along.”
“I wish I’d been wrong,” she whispers, placing her hand over mine.
“Yeah, I wish you had been too. But you weren’t, and, well, life goes on.”
“Hey, listen,” Aubrey says, tears in her eyes. “You can stay in my townhouse as long as you like. And I’ll try to visit you as much as I can. Brent can stop by too, when he has games out there. And if you ultimately decide you like Chicago enough to stay permanently, I’ll gift the freaking place to you. If you want it, that is.”
I nod and thank her, but really all I want is Nolan, that damn stubborn man. If only Aubrey could “gift” him to me just as easily as she can the townhouse.
But she can’t.
And like I told her, life must go on. Even if it is to be a life without Nolan.
Am I In Love? If so, F*ck!
I come to a conclusion while I’m away, a potentially life-changing conclusion. Od
dly enough, this revelation sneaks up on me during the game against the Winnipeg Jets, shortly after a power play where I score a goal.
The chain of events begins after Benny delivers a punishing, but still completely legal, check on one of the Jets forwards. Seconds later, that player retaliates by cross-checking Benny. That’s not legal and a penalty is called. The Jets player is sent to the box, and the resulting Wolves power play is textbook perfection.
Brent’s on the top power play unit with me, along with our second-line centerman, a dude named Jaxon Holland. Dylan Culderway is one of two defensemen on the ice, mostly because he’s not only a great defenseman, but he has a killer shot from the point.
He takes that exact type of shot midway through the power play, but unfortunately the puck’s on edge and careens away from the net. But the hockey gods smile down on us and send that wayward puck right to my stick.
Sometimes things work out like that.
Since I’m pretty much in front of the goal, not being covered well at all, I tap the puck past their goaltender and into the net.
Score!
The crowd quiets to an almost silence. No surprise there, as we are in Winnipeg. Nevertheless, I do hear a few scattered Wolves fans cheering here and there, but nothing of consequence. The lack of noise doesn’t stop me and my teammates from celebrating on the ice.
Afterward, I return to the bench. There’s roughly two minutes left to play, and I swear I feel like a new man. Maybe the universe has been smiling down on me all along.
Have I just been too dumb to see it?
I squirt some water in my mouth, spit it out, and think that possibility over. And then, again like there’s some stronger force at work, I’m compelled to look up in the stands. That’s when I swear I see Lainey.
My heart stills. It couldn’t be her, could it? No way.
When I wipe away built-up moisture from inside my visor, I see it’s just a girl who looks like Lainey. What really strikes me is how disappointed I am. How thinking, even just for a minute, that it was her had me feel good, really good, as in happy, a deep down in your bones kind of contentment, like when it’s right it’s right.
Holy hell, I think I know why—because I fucking love her!
How could I have been so blind all this time? Maybe I haven’t been, though. I’ve kind of known for a while. That’s why I’ve been fighting so hard all this time. I knew in my heart that Lainey Shelburne was the one who could alter my life. And despite my constant pushback, she has. I love her. And I finally know for sure, with no more lingering doubts, that I’m ready to give her more, much more. I’m ready to surrender my heart.
My stupid ass should have told Lainey all this after our encounter by the pool. But I left it in her hands again, which was me still trying to take the easy way out. Now I fully realize how wrong it was to fuck around and then keep my mouth shut.
Well, no more of that foolishness. Shit, I hope she’ll still have me. I haven’t called or texted, mostly because I haven’t known what to say. But I sure know now.
The game ends then and the team files off the ice and into the locker room, with me bringing up the rear. I sit down on a bench in front of the stall I’ve been assigned. After I take off my helmet, I run my hand through my sweaty hair.
“You all right over there, Solvenson?” Dylan Culderway asks. He’s at the stall next to mine.
“Yeah, man.” I nod. “I’m good. Just thinking about some things, is all.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thanks.”
He turns away and continues to take off his gear, giving me the space I need to think this thing through. Like I said once before, Dylan and I are a lot alike. He knows when to leave a man alone to figure his shit out.
Speaking of which, where was I?
Ah, love and Lainey…
Do you definitely love her? a little voice in my head asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” I mutter. That’s why I put in a good word for her with the head of marketing. Brent and Aubrey had done so already, but I once did Mrs. Fielding a huge favor by autographing a bunch of items she was auctioning off to raise money for a sick niece. That’s why I knew encouraging words from me for Lainey would hold some weight with her.
Still, it’s up to Lainey to prove herself worthy of the position. If she does gets the job, she’ll stay in Las Vegas. We can move our relationship to the next level for sure then.
Wow, I can’t believe I’m all-in on this. But I am. I’m ready to take the next step, finally.
I only hope it’s not too late.
Woohoo . . . Not
The morning I’m at the airport, all set to fly to Chicago, I finally receive a text from Nolan.
“It’s about time,” I grumble, since this is the first I’ve heard from him since he went on the road with the team.
We need to talk, his text states. I have something I need to tell you.
I wonder what’s weighing on him now. What could warrant this out-of-the-blue communication? Well, I sure have some things to say too!
Leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable back of the seat I’m perched on at the gate, I reply, Yes, we sure do need to talk.
He sends back, I’ll be home later this afternoon. Do you want to go to dinner? We can talk after.
Hmm, “talk after” sounds like a euphemism for sex, so I can’t help but roll my eyes. I can see the writing on the wall already. And I bet I can predict what he wants to tell me—that we should go right back to where we were, the good ole friend zone, but this new one we carved out, called “friends with benefits.”
That’s not really a friend zone, though, now is it? Nope, it’s a place where boundaries are blurred and, worse yet, where I end up hurt by what can never be.
I don’t think so, bud, I think. Oops. All fired up, I actually text that to him.
He shoots back ???
Um, I just mean I can’t go out with you tonight, I reply.
Why not?
I’m on my way out of town for an interview. I’m at the airport right now.
A pause, then, where is this interview?
Chicago.
A full minute passes, and then this pops up on the screen: What happened with the interview with the Wolves?
How do you know about that one?
A pause, then, Brent told me.
I sigh and inform him, I haven’t heard anything from the Wolves. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of waiting around for what-ifs and maybes. I have a life to live, Nolan. If I’m offered this job in Chicago, I’m taking it.
Okay, that’s a little harsh, and it’s wrought with innuendo regarding our current situation. But it’s the truth.
Nolan replies, Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do great. Anyone would be lucky to have you, Lainey.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I read his clipped words, words that kill me with their lack of any real emotion. It’s the same old closed-off Nolan, just a different day. Doesn’t it bother him at all that I might be moving far, far away?
What does that say about me?
It says I’m a fool for allowing this to continue.
With tears in my eyes, I angrily stab at the phone, typing, You know what, Nolan? I think no matter what happens with this interview it’s time for you and me to go our separate ways.
You’re breaking up with me via text?
I bark out a bitter laugh and passengers stare over at me. I ignore them as I hastily—before I chicken out—text back, We were never really ever together, remember?
I guess you’re right.
That’s when I turn off the phone.
It really is over now.
Chicago in November is as cold outside as I feel inside.
After touching down, I do everything in a daze—collect my luggage from the baggage carousel, catch a cab from the airport to Aubrey’s townhouse in Wicker Park, and let myself in her front door.
Dropping my bags on the floor, I give up on everything and trudge
my tired ass upstairs to take a nap. First though, I have a really good cry. It’s amazing how letting it all out can feel so good.
After sleeping for a few hours, I force myself back downstairs and trundle through the dining room.
And that’s when I spy Al!
Al is an old stuffed animal from my childhood. A floppy green alligator who always makes me laugh, especially because of an ongoing inside joke with Aubrey. I’m glad she left him here sitting on a chair.
“Guess I should eat something, huh?” I mumble to Al, not caring if talking to an inanimate object makes me sound like I’m losing my mind. It’s lonely being here alone. But I may as well get used to it. If I get the job, it’ll be just me and Al spending a lot of alone-time together.
With that in mind, I say, “Hey, Al, let me go see what’s in the pantry. I’ll be right back.”
After a mildly pathetic dinner of one-sided conversation with a stuffed animal, and eating PB&J on stale crackers—it was all I could find since I didn’t feel like going grocery shopping or ordering takeout—I force myself to snap out of this ridiculous funk.
“I have an interview tomorrow,” I tell Al. “I should be excited, right?”
Al, of course, does not reply, and I mutter, “Yeah, I feel pretty much the same way about things, little dude.”
Despite my lack of enthusiasm, after I clear my plate, I fire up my laptop and begin diligently studying all the many notes I made about the ad agency on the flight to Chicago. I conclude early on that the job with the Wolves would be much more to my liking. I don’t think I’m a big ad agency person, but now that Nolan and I are definitely through the best way for me to move on is to move away.
After reviewing my notes, I spend a quiet evening watching TV with Al. He even sleeps next to me, and the next day when I wake up, I tell him, “I wish I could bring you.”
Since I obviously can’t, I take a cab downtown for the interview on my own.
When I step out of the taxi, right away the wind blowing off the frozen lake just about freezes my cheeks to ice cubes. I tug the edges of the heavy wool scarf I dug from Aubrey’s closet so I can cover my face as I walk to the office building where the interview’s happening.
