Chapter 3 - Same Time Next New Year's

“Oh my…” Liz grabs my phone out of my hands to look closer.

“Liz!” I snatch my phone back from her. “Personal space!”

“You’re space is my space,” she whispers while still trying to look closely at my phone.

Rolling my eyes and swallowing my sarcastic response to my sister, I click on the photo to make it a bit larger.

Well, he’s definitely not a creepy old man or weird teenage girl.

He’s really attractive. The photo only shows the shoulders and up. He’s smiling big, showing off pretty, straight white teeth. His eyes are a deep brown and his skin is a warm, golden tan. He has dark hair cropped closely to his head, shorter on the sides and longer on top. It looks like he’s outside, maybe on a sidewalk, with a black scarf wrapped around his neck and the tips of his ears look a bit pink from the cold I’m assuming.

“He’s really cute,” I say under my breath with annoyance. And then I add, “But that doesn’t mean he’s not a creep. Or a pervert.”

“Stop assuming the worst. You’ve become such a pessimistic buzzkill in your old age.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my husband having an affair with one of my work friends has really killed my buzz, Liz.”

She sighs softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Her face is sad and sincere.

“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“Text him back,” she urges me. I roll my lips and look down at my phone.

Joanna: Definitely not a creepy old man or a weird teenage girl.

“Ah that’s perfect!” Liz claps excitedly. I take a deep breath, trying to summon the patience that’s needed when dealing with little sisters.

“I can’t believe I’m witnessing this in real time.” Liz wiggles her eyebrows at me. I shake my head, ignoring her. “I will always be able to say that I was there when it started. I was in the room where it happened.” I roll my eyes again.

Unknown: Nope, just a creepy 35 year old man.

Joanna: So you admit that you’re creepy?

Unknown: Not like, really creepy…

Unknown: Maybe just because I keep texting someone that I don’t know?

Joanna: So just the normal kind of creepy then.

Unknown: Exactly. You already know me so well.

I chuckle.

Unknown: I’m Leo. I live in NY.

“Leo,” I say as tiny flutters move in my stomach.

“That’s a nice name, and unique,” Liz confirms. “A solid name.”

I don’t even respond to her.

Joanna: I’m Jo. I don’t live in NY.

Unknown: Jo.

Joanna: Short for Joanna.

Unknown: Joanna.

Unknown: I think that’s my new favorite name.

Liz punches me in the arm as she makes some kind of strained squeaking noise.

“Ow, Liz, that’s it. I’m going into the bathroom.” I stand up from the couch and walk towards my bathroom door.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’ll calm down.” She tries to follow me, but I step into the room and lock the door quickly. I ignore her knocking. She’ll go away eventually. Maybe.

Probably not.

The bathroom is a bit cramped but still functional, tucked into the back corner of the apartment like an afterthought. The tiles, I’m sure once white and black, are now a bit discolored around the edges, showing the years of use. The counter and cabinets are all new, and the fresh coat of paint on the walls brings a lot of life back into the space.

I lean my hip against the counter, tapping my toes against the tiles as I think of how to respond. Finally I bring the screen up and type my answer.

Joanna: Oh yeah?

Unknown: Yeah.

I smile down at my screen, feeling like an idiot—but also lighter than I have in a really long time. Doubt whispers in my ear, reminding me that playing it safe is probably the better option. It’s definitely the better option. Especially after everything I’ve been through this last year, the trust that was broken, the games that were played—playing it safe shouldn’t even be something I’m questioning. But there’s another voice that I hear, softer yet undeniable, urging me to take that step. I can’t quite explain it, because it’s even more than a soft voice, it’s a gentle hand on my back, urging me forward.

And in this moment, I decide to take that step, to embrace the bit of lightness—a lightness that has become a stranger to me in the midst of the heavy grief in my heart.

Embrace it.

There’s no way anything would even come from this. When it ends, my life won’t change at all. But right now, if it distracts my tired mind from my depressing reality, I’ll take it.

Unknown: You sure there’s no way for you to meet me tonight?

I shake my head. Taking a deep breath, I type out a response.

Joanna: Unfortunately… no.

Unknown: Unfortunately?

I chuckle.

Joanna: Stop fishing for compliments.

Unknown: I just laughed out loud on the train, scared the woman sitting next to me.

Joanna: Leo, the slightly creepy man who also scares women on the train. Not looking good for you.

Unknown: Yeah it sounds really bad when you say it like that.

Joanna: Just stating the facts.

Unknown: Fair enough.

Unknown: If some details help… I own a restaurant. Actually working on opening another location, hopefully this new year.

Joanna: That’s really cool! That definitely helps you feel a bit less creepy.

Unknown: Phew, thank goodness!

Joanna: Or like a serial killer with a good alibi.

Unknown: Again, you make a good point, but I swear it’s not true!

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say now. But I guess my pause is too long because another message pops up.

Unknown: Okay, sorry for bothering you again. Seriously, didn’t mean to be creepy.

Joanna: It’s okay. :)

I laugh. With an exhale, I put my phone on the counter, stopping now before it gets weird. I turn the shower on, keeping my hand under the stream of water, feeling the temperature and waiting until it gets hot.

I strip my clothes off and climb in, taking my time and avoiding the world beyond my tiny shower stall. Washing my hair is still a bit weird—I’m not used to the length yet. I keep going to grab the hair down my back that’s no longer there. But I’m saving tons of shampoo.

Eventually, I finish up and get out. I wrap my bath robe around myself and pick my clothes up from the ground. When I open the door, Liz immediately jumps up from the couch and walks over.

“What is he saying?” she asks excitedly. She follows me into my ‘bedroom,’ which is just my bed and dresser set up behind a partition I found in a thrift shop the other week. I toss my clothes in the laundry basket and then walk to my dresser.

“Nothing, we’re not talking anymore,” I tell her.

Her face falls and her mouth parts in disappointment. “What? Why?”

“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh. “Because he’s a stranger, Liz. Remember Mom and Dad’s lectures about stranger danger?”

“Sorry that I’m just a hopeless romantic, Jo,” she glowers.

“Okay, find your own guy to talk to.”

She scoffs. “Not everyone has the fortune of being the recipient of a hot wrong number guy.”

“I’m pretty sure that that’s most people’s realities.” Chuckling, I open my small closet and look through my hanging clothes.

“Exactly,” she says loudly. “When does this sort of thing ever happen? That’s why you can’t waste this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“I think you’ve officially lost it.” I pick my clothes out and start to get dressed. I pull up my black dress pants after putting my underwear on.

“Why can’t you just admit that this might be something really incredible?” she pleads. I finish pulling my maroon sweater over my head before finally turning to look at her.

“Liz,” I say resigned, “It’s a random guy who accidentally texted my number. A guy”—I throw a pointed look at her—“who is meeting another woman tonight, in a state that we don’t live in.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “We live in Massachusetts. We’re basically his neighbor.”

I give her a disbelieving look. “Not at all.” She shrugs. I continue, “He’s still meeting up with another woman.”

“Maybe not!” she presses. “He obviously doesn’t have her right number.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing that he easily texted Ben to get it,” I tell her as I walk back to the bathroom with her hot on my heels. I brush my hair out before squirting some volumizing mousse on my palm and running it through my short locks.

“This could be a turning point for you, Jo.”

I pay no attention to my ridiculous but well-intentioned sister as I open the counter drawer and pull my hair dryer and round brush out.

“And you’re too dumb to see it and too stubborn to even explore it.”

I turn my hair dryer on. “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

“I can’t stand you!” she yells over the hair dryer, even as she glares at me and turns to walk away. I laugh. But before I realize what I’m doing, my eyes glance down to my phone and when I see an empty screen, I can’t help the small piece of disappointment that drops into my stomach.