So Close

Ryan glances down at the phone in his hand, checking the address yet again as he exits the parking garage and makes a right. Why did he agree to meet Zach so far away from his apartment on only his second day in the city? He should have stuck to places within walking distance. He could have taken the L, but it still freaks him out a little—the anxiety of catching a connection, the complicated maps. City traffic puts him a little on edge, but at least with driving he has a modicum of control.

He shakes off the nerves as he makes his way down State Street in search of its intersection with Banks Avenue. The wind whips through his hair, and he stuffs his hands deep into his coat pockets. Winter in Chicago is proving to be a lot colder than he expected. Colorado wasn’t exactly warm, but it was warmer than this.

This will be fun, he tells himself. He’s not really a “happy hour on a Wednesday night” kind of guy. Maybe he used to be, but that was a long time ago. But he hasn’t seen Zach in years, and Zach’s the only person he knows in the city. (Except for Olivia, but she doesn’t really count as a friend.) Plus he deserves a celebratory drink. Today was his first day as an assistant professor at Northwestern. Four classes to teach, a tiny corner of an office all to himself, actually getting to do something he loves, a decent paycheck (sort of), and the chance for tenure someday. After all the time and money he spent on school, he’s finally getting somewhere. Sure beats working as a barista.

The place comes into view—a little boutique hotel on the corner with a fancy lobby and a scripty neon sign in the window that reads Nino’s Restaurant & Bar—Open. He shoves his phone into the pocket of his new suit pants. He’s still dressed for work, and he vaguely hopes that he doesn’t look too uptight for this place. He runs a hasty hand through his hair and pulls open the door to the bar.

The air is hazy with cigarette smoke and grease, but he sees her instantly. He shouldn’t—she isn’t even sitting in his natural line of sight, and he’s supposed to be scanning the place for Zach, not looking at the front right corner, practically behind him, at a table near the window—but he does. It’s like his eyes don’t want to see anything else. All the breath punches quick out of his lungs, the world slipping sideways under his feet.

She looks different, older—no more purple streaks through her hair or thick black eyeliner—but also the same—same soft lines around her mouth, same sparkle in her eyes, same freckles scattered across her nose. Her hair’s grown long and is pulled back away from her face into a low ponytail that cascades over her shoulder, and she’s sitting with her legs crossed under the table, black pump dangling from her toes as she leans forward on her elbows. It takes Ryan a second to realize that she’s with a guy and they’re both laughing. She’s holding a half-full glass of red wine, dressed for a date in a simple black dress and hoop earrings. His heart pounds, desperate, frantic. Something that tastes like panic is crawling up the back of his throat and he’s not quite sure what that means.

He takes a lurching step forward—toward her—trying to regain his equilibrium, trying to think. She sets down her wine and sits up straighter, nodding at something her date is saying. He’s stuck between going toward her and leaving immediately.

“Ryan!” Zach’s low, booming voice snaps him out of the trance she has him in, and he looks up. Zach’s walking toward him, the tallest guy in the room by a long shot. His blond crew cut and broad shoulders make him look like a frat guy pretending to be a businessman. He looks exactly the same as he did when he was quarterback of the football team being crowned as prom king.

“Ryan!” Zach booms again, and Ryan whips his head around to see if Olivia heard, if she noticed him. He can’t decide if he wants her to see him or not. But she’s oblivious and so is her guy. She looks happy. She looks a lot happier than she did the last time he saw her. The memory makes his stomach twist.

He turns back to Zach, smiles, and gives him a hug and a slap on the back. He follows him up to the bar where he orders a beer. Zach orders a beer for himself and a shot of whiskey for each of them.

“Whew!” Zach exclaims as the whiskey burns down their throats. “I feel like I’m in college again. How are you, man?” Zach asks, and Ryan catches himself looking at Olivia again—she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and looks up at her date through dark eyelashes. He snaps his eyes back to Zach’s, takes a sip of his beer.

“I’m good,” he says, almost more to himself than to Zach. “I’m good.” He thought he was. Ten minutes ago he was. Now he’s not so sure. “How’ve you been?” He tries to swallow the tremble in his voice. He takes another sip of his beer and glances past Zach toward the window—he can just see Olivia over Zach’s shoulder.

They talk about their jobs and how Ryan’s move went, their other friends who are scattered across the country and Zach’s recent wedding—god that hurts a bit—and Ryan can’t stop looking at Olivia. No matter what else he tries to look at, he keeps finding his eyes on her.

Is that guy her boyfriend? Or just a date? A twisty, jealous part of him hopes it’s not serious. Could he even be that lucky? It doesn’t look serious—they haven’t touched at all (he is not watching that closely, fuck), and the brightness of Liv’s smile noticeably dims as their conversation wanes on. Now she’s playing with a lock of her hair, twirling it around her finger, her eyes flicking up to the TV above her date’s head. Ryan looks down into his beer.

What are the odds that they would end up in the same bar just after he moved into town? It has to mean something, right? Ryan doesn’t really believe in any sort of higher power, but what he wouldn’t give for something, anything, indicating that this were true, that they’re somehow meant to be together. Because no girl he’s been with since can compare to Olivia, and he knows he shouldn’t compare them but he always does. Because he thought she was it for him, but then he lost her, and he’s never forgiven himself. Or her, if he’s honest. What they had was one in a million, and he doesn’t even know how he lost it. How he lost her.

“Dude, isn’t that your girl?” Zach asks. Ryan realizes he’s busted and he feels terrible; Zach’s been watching the football game for at least the past five minutes.

“What? Uh, no. No, not my girl.” He stammers, seeks solace in the last slug of his beer and signals the bartender for another. “I don’t have a girl.”

“But you were together, right? I mean, I’d transferred by that time, but I remember seeing pictures of you guys together. On Facebook or whatever.”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, we were. For a little while.”

“Didn’t work out, huh? Does she even know you’re here?”

“Nah, man, and she’s not gonna. I’m not gonna bother her. She’s better off without me. It was a nasty… it wasn’t. We’re not friends. It’s better for everybody if I don’t say hi.”

“Alright, man, whatever you say,” Zach shrugs and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m getting old and I’ve gotta work in the morning.”

“That’s alright,” Ryan says as the bartender sets a fresh beer in front of him. “Thanks for hanging out.”

“Dude, anytime. Let’s do it again soon,” Zach says as he lays a couple of bills on the bartop. He pulls on his coat and slaps Ryan on the shoulder. “Later.”

Ryan finishes his beer fast, looking at the TV but not really watching it. He tries his hardest not to look at Olivia but fails multiple times. They’re sharing a dessert now—he can’t tell what it is, but they’re both reaching their forks toward the plate in the middle of the table. Olivia’s favorite part of any meal was always dessert.

Finally, he thunks his empty glass onto the bar. Just before he goes, he glances again at the table by the window, and before he does it he tells himself this will be the last time he looks. This was just a coincidence; it’s a big city, certainly he can coexist within the same two-hundred square miles as her and manage to avoid her from now on. He prepares himself a little, to drink in all of her that he can in these last two seconds that he’ll get to look at her. He wants to remember every detail that he can. The only thing he isn’t prepared for is for her to be looking back at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.