She finally hands me back my phone and takes a sip of her champagne. “I don’t know. I’d take my chance with a new coffee place and new job.”
“His hotness hasn’t gone unnoticed. Trust me. But when we first met, he thought I was engaged, so there’s no vibe there.”
Jordan taps her fingernail on her glass. “Sooo, I hate to bring this up when you’re doing so well and have a new man in your life,” she says—and I can’t help but grin—“but have you heard anything else from Neil?”
I wrinkle my nose at the sound of his name. “Nope. Not since his email. I’m hoping he’s too chicken to try contacting me again.”
“On to a different topic.” Jordan leans in close to me. “So, I know you said you’re not ready, but I’ve noticed a lot of guys looking this way. And you were with that loser for five years. Don’t you want to start playing the field a bit? Get over the hump?” She bumps her shoulder against mine.
I frown and then look around the bar to see what she’s seeing. “Sure,” I say, though sounding unsure. “Part of me wants to simply for revenge. But the other part isn’t so ready.”
“You don’t have to marry them. Just sample what else is out there. It’s been a while.” Jordan smiles over my shoulder and then looks back at me. “Heads up. Six o’clock. If you’re not interested, say so now or forever hold your peace.”
It’s too late. Two guys appear behind us, ostensibly to order drinks; but there are open spots around the bar, so it’s pretty clear they want to order drinks for us. The four of us banter for a while, but I’m not really feeling it. Even so, I use my PR Allison persona to get through it since I can tell Jordan is enjoying herself. By the end of the night, numbers are exchanged, though I’m hoping my guy doesn’t call.
“Take that app dating,” Jordan says as we walk home. “They were cute.”
“They were okay.” I’m not sure if it was a genuine lack of chemistry or the fear of dating again has me disinterested. Also, my standards might be a little too high now from looking at Eric every day.
SINCE I OFFICIALLY started working for Eric two weeks ago, I try to do part of it at The Cauldron every day for a couple hours in the morning while he’s there so I can ask him any questions. This Monday morning, after he’s finished approving the design for the loyalty cards that I plan to order from the printer, he asks, “Would you like some more hot water for your tea?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
He takes my mug off the table and I watch him walk back to the counter with it. He looks up and catches me looking at him. We both smile. In that moment, Jordan’s comment about “getting over the hump” replays in my mind, and I quickly look away.
I turn back to my laptop and click over to my email, and, Bam—there is another email from Neil sitting in my inbox. It’s like he knows that I’m in a good place right now and wants to ruin it. I want to punch my computer. And him.
“Whoa! Is everything okay?” Eric sets the mug down next to me.
“Oh, yeah, I guess.” I look up at Eric and then lean back in my chair and cross my arms crossly. “It’s my ex. He wants to meet up.”
“Do you want to meet up with him?” Eric asks carefully.
“No!” I vehemently shake my head. “I mean, I want answers, but I wanted them right when we broke up. Now that I’m in a good place, I’m not sure I want to hear them and relive it all. You know?”
“I do.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. “If you’re not ready to meet with him, then don’t. It’s not like he showed you any mercy. But if there are answers you need to hear to help you move forward, then it’s something to consider.”
“How are you so wise?” I peer up at him.
He laughs. “I’m not. We’ve all been through something, though, and as I get older I like to cut the bullshit. And, hey, the guy’s still a rat bastard. So if you want to meet him here, I can give him threatening looks to make sure he feels very uncomfortable.” Eric cracks his knuckles menacingly.
I laugh. “Thank you. I’m not sure that’s necessary, but I appreciate the offer.”
I know I need to face Neil. I know I need to confront him so I can fully move on (or at least not be frightened every time I open my email that there might be a message from him). Perhaps it is time to get those answers. Perhaps, but maybe not just quite yet.
When the plane touches down at the airport in Costa Rica, my stomach does a little flip. This is my first solo trip since … actually, I don’t think I’ve ever taken a solo trip. It’s always been to meet friends somewhere or traveling with an organized group, and that was my original plan. These last few months, Jordan has become a little obsessed and living vicariously through me. I didn’t realize she was a secret self-helper or a “whatever Oprah tells me to do, I do it” type of gal, but she read an article in O about a life coach who does meditation retreats in Bali. “Bring it full circle,” she wrote in her email when she sent the link, referencing our newly running Eat, Pray, Love joke. While I hemmed and hawed, I knew she was in deep when over dinner one night she said, “Do you need money? I’ll lend you the money. I’d spend it on myself anyway, and so you could repay me by taking me out to dinner and teaching me all your wisdom.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I can afford it.” I told her about selling my ring. When I had handed it to the clerk at the estate jewelry store, I thought it was going to be hard to part with; but when I took it out of its box, I immediately wanted to be rid of it. Despite how technically beautiful the ring was, it had become an ugly reminder that Neil had chosen to spend his life and create a family with someone else. As I walked out of the store, my heart felt much lighter (and my wallet a little heavier).
“I was never going to wear it again, so getting rid of it made the most sense,” I explained.
“I love this new Allison!” Jordan enthused.
“If you love me so much, why don’t you come with me?” I asked, with more than a little bit of pleading in my voice.
“I can’t get away right now. Otherwise, I’d be all ahhing and ohming next to you.”
When I watched the promotional video, I tried not to be too judgmental about all the hugs and activities that looked suspiciously like trust exercises and confessionals, because bathing in ancient temples and going to a monkey forest were also on the agenda. And I would be with a group who are all probably women like me trying to find themselves—safety in numbers. The one thing I was judgmental about was the life coach himself, Master Connor.
As he talked in the video about how meditation will teach you to be in the moment, I couldn’t help but be distracted by his man bun. Is he going for an insouciant look carefully orchestrated by the extra tending to his mane or an “I am Jesus with these locks and you will be my followers” look? I wasn’t quite sure. But once I realized that I’d spent more time focused on Master Connor’s hair than his words, I thought this might not be the retreat for me. Then when I started to look at upcoming flights, I also wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend a couple thousand on airfare.