Pulling up in front of a two-story brick house in a typical Chicago suburb; we find ourselves lucky, because this Elliot happens to be out front mowing his lawn. I pull up to the curb and look over at Alice before I turn my eyes to the man pushing the mower.
He’s the right height, his hair is dirty blonde and I can feel my heart rate begin to increase, thinking maybe, just maybe I’ve found him. Every moment from that day on the beach comes flooding back to me. His smile, his beautiful blue eyes, the way he made me feel and the sound of his laughter. His back is to me and his build is similar, but that’s where it ends. When he turns around, I know instantly it’s not him.
“It’s not him,” I say, sounding defeated.
“You sure?” Alice asks, but this time it’s a question that has more pity than annoyance.
“Yeah, I’m sure. His nose is different, the shape of his eyes. It’s not him.”
I pull away from the house as I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes. I don’t know why I continually do this to myself. The loss I feel is almost as bad as the broken heart I’ve lived with for over a decade. Each time I do this and it’s not Elliot, a part of my heart breaks all over again. I used to find solace in all of this, but over the past few years, it’s become harder and harder to cope with not finding him.
“It’s okay,” Alice says, reassuringly.
I nod my head, but I know it’s not. It’s just a lie I tell myself so I can keep going.
“How about we go see the city?” Alice says, cheerfully. “You’ve never been to Chicago. I can show you where I lived. We can see the bean and Navy Pier, you know the usual touristy shit.”
I stop myself from disagreeing, even though that’s my first instinct. I don’t generally deviate from the schedule, although I’m not sure why. I always feel like I have to follow it religiously, which is just plain stupid. I never enjoy these trips and sometimes they take up all my vacation time, leaving nothing left for me to take a trip I might actually have fun on.
“Okay,” I say, grinning at Alice. “Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?” she questions, her eyebrows raised as if she’s completely shocked by my response.
“Yep.”
We spend the rest of the day seeing the sights of Chicago and eating deep-dish pizza and Garrett’s popcorn. Alice has her camera out the entire time, taking pictures of everything and telling me how much she misses living in Chicago.
Alice lived in Chicago before moving to New York. It was one of the many places she’s lived over the last ten years. And while she says New York is just a massive version of Chicago, it’s still not the same.
We find ourselves laughing and having more fun together than we’ve had in years. Alice has me pose in front of the bean while she takes a series of pictures of me from different angles. Later on she joins me and holding the camera at arms length, she takes a bunch of the two of us.
We end the night with a pricey dinner at the Capital Grill, stuffed but happy. Despite everything in me telling me to keep moving forward, to keep searching for Elliot, this short break from it is exactly what I needed.
Chapter Five
After spending the day navigating Chicago, Alice and I are up at the crack of dawn and on our way to a small town in South Dakota called Vermillion. It’s a farming community, but mostly it’s known for being the home of The University of South Dakota.
Since leaving Chicago, Alice has been Googling the town and giving me shit for thinking Elliot could possibly live in this small ass town in the middle of nowhere.
“He was from California, Nora. Why would he suddenly want to live off the land in the middle of fucking corn?”
“I don’t know,” I respond back. “People change, I guess.”
“No one leaves southern California for this place,” Alice says, looking out the window with a disgusted look on her face.
“He’s a professor at the university, by the way. He isn’t living off the land,” I quip back, shaking my head at her.
“Um, look around, Nora. Everyone here lives off the land. There’s corn on all sides of us. This place is like Children of the Corn.” Alice shudders dramatically and lets out an irritated huff before continuing. “Please tell me we aren’t staying in some B&B on the side of the road.”
“Fine. We aren’t staying in a B&B on the side of the road. We’re staying at one that’s off the main drag in town.”
“Oh for fuck’s fake,” Alice mutters, but I see her lips twitch up in a smile.
We’ve been in the car a little over nine hours when I pull into the place and it’s not just Alice who’s staring open-mouthed at the building in front of us. I am too.
“It looks like a pole barn,” Alice says.
“That it does,” I answer back.
When I book the hotels, especially in these small towns, it’s hard to find something that isn’t a complete shit hole. From the looks of this place, I failed.
We both exit the car and stare at the building for a few more seconds before heading around to the back of the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk. At this point we don’t have much of a choice but to stay. It’s late, it’s paid for and we only have to brave it for one night…I hope.
“It’s just one night,” I tell Alice and I watch her scrunch up her nose and meander up the walkway as if it’s filled with snakes. She’s moving slowly and slightly on her tiptoes, her arms firmly at her sides. The whole scene makes me laugh out loud.
“This is totally fucking going to be him. You know that, right?” Alice says and shoots me a filthy look.
“Whatever,” I respond back, giving her a little shove as she teeters on her toes.
If we thought the outside was rough, it’s got nothing on the inside. It smells like a litter box and seeing as there are at least ten cats gracing the lobby, it explains the odor.
“No,” Alice says immediately.
“It’s one night,” I hiss back through clenched teeth as an elderly lady smiles at us from behind a rustic log-cabin style desk.
Stomping off and taking a seat on the arm of a very old chair, Alice lets out a long, irritated sigh, but when I glare at her, she gives me a coy smile.
After a lengthy but totally unnecessary conversation with the owner about the sleeping habits of the cats that seem to run this B&B, I’m checked in and dragging my tired ass to where Alice is sitting. She looks about as exhausted as I feel.
“Ready?” I ask and she hauls herself out of the chair, giving me a quick nod.
We walk silently down the worn out floral carpet to our room, and using a key that is attached to a rather large wooden disk, I open the door.
I have no idea why either of us is surprised, but the looks on our faces definitely scream what-the-fuck.
In the center of the room is a double bed with a threadbare quilt that looks like Betsy Ross herself could’ve made it. But what’s worse than the ratty ass quilt, the tiny bed and the overall appearance, is the smell.
“Oh my god,” I cringe. “I thought the sandy shit box smell was bad. It’s got nothing on this.”
I look back at Alice who is standing behind me and she’s now taking pictures with a stoic look on her face.