Part 1
It was exactly seventeen days until her flight was booked when he decided to end it. She was looking forward to visiting her ex with the hope of rekindling something, but he got cold feet. Down in Florida, in the sunshine and warmth, her heart still burned with hope. She decided not to cancel her flight and fly to Chicago anyway. Maybe, she thought, he’d be inspired to come see her after all. But she also prepared herself for the less desired and more likely outcome. She told herself to be realistic but not to dread. Up in the skies, she tempered her feelings with little bottles of cabernet sauvignon and gazing at the grids of farmland down below.
Upon landing, she walked down many bustling halls and tunnels toward the trains that led into the city. Stepping out onto the platform, she finally got her first dose of that famed Chicago air. A chilling and moist gale from the lake that shot straight through her flesh and shivered her bones. She opened up the suitcase and began throwing on the layers. The bones of her ancestors laughed within for they left this place many decades ago for the bulldozed swampy suburbs of South Florida. She was in their home now, or as close as a European immigrant’s great granddaughter could get on retail wages.
The hostel was tucked away in a beautiful tree-lined, brown stone neighborhood on the north end. Every time she approached a crosswalk, every vehicle would stop immediately and a friendly face from within would wave for her to cross. After spending several months in New York City in a previous life, this level of civility in such a large city was unheard of, but then again, she was in the mid-west.
After checking in, she wandered back out into the neighborhood in search of sustenance and beer. It was sunset when she was landing and had been hypnotized by the cascading lights of the suburbs as the train approached the heart of the city. Walking around the cold, desolate streets now, hungry and coming down from the wine buzz, the feelings finally broke. She was here and she was alone. She foresaw two possible outcomes once she communicated that she had landed safely. Despite preparing to have her hopes and dreams crushed, the reality settled heavily in her heart. He would not be coming. She would be alone.
She choked back the tears as hard as possible, and for as long as possible while pounding her feet against the cold pavement. Trying desperately to think of anything else, she set her mind on dinner. She forced down a cheeseburger and spent the first night reading Jurassic Park in her bunk. Crying intermittently as the raptors crept through the dark winding basement of her decrepit mind.
The next morning, she jumped out of bed and took a shivering shower in the shared hostel bathroom. She pulled her favorite boots on over some tight jeans and zipping up a bitchin’ black pleather motorcycle jacket, she was ready to take over Chicago. The weather bit hard through her jeans as she stomped down the pavement. She felt like a bonfire beneath the cold grey sky which cried occasionally during the entire extent of her visit. Sometimes the sky sobbed fat droplets, and sometimes the tears were like a gentle mist, but they were always cold. Her spirit was kept warm as she spent the next several days walking and riding the trains all over the city like a good little tourist.
She picked up a pack of American Spirits and felt like a bad ass smoking outside of the art museums. She had only recently taken up smoking, after the breakup. Smoking & drinking at bars and talking to strangers was how she had spent those seventeen nights and how she would spend the following five. She feasted at the Field museum’s bistro, sipping on cabernet, and pondering tyrannosaurs. She stared out of window at Lake Michigan and reminisced on how she used to watch science documentaries with him. She opened her phone and looked at her last message from him, “be safe.” She closed it and finished her glass.
Every meal besides breakfast was accompanied by an alcoholic beverage. Downtown Chicago style pizza with prosciutto and spinach accompanied by a flight of local IPA’s. Buffalo Wings with Guinness and da Bears on TV in a bar where nobody knew her name. Calamari with Peroni in Lakeview, no view of the lake. Mediterranean Hummus & Pita plate, a Gin & Cranberry with a twist and a towering view of the city and the lake. Each drink came with a twist, either the same night or the following morning. With a cocktail in hand, she could gab the night away, quoting Forrest Gump with two handsome young brothers from California. She would pay for the tab eventually but for now, she was on vacation.
