Chrisonomicon

Monday, March 18, 2002

Today was the kind of day that begins well drawn out—in which you know each hustle as though you studied the team playbook weeks in advance—and then turns you into the Miss Cleo of day planners with a complete turnaround of events.

I had taken the day off to drive Lindsay to the airport for her flight to Germany. The plan was to go and come back. A simple, two-hour trip. I had absentmindedly wondered what I would do with an entire day off as I was driving away from the airport, when suddenly, I was on the phone, dialing my friends for lunch.

After a quick, two-hour shopping spree through several malls, Dave, Damen, and a friend of Dave's from work met me at Lime, a sheik neo-Mexican restaraunt decorated in minimalist white, green, and orange. Lunch was surprisingly good and the company even better, as Dave dished out the most recent gossip like Spanish tapas, each successive tidbit more tasty and sinfully decadent than the last.

As I was returning Damen to his mom's house, the thought crossed my mind to call my ex, Jeff, who I hadn't spoken to in almost six months. As I was contemplating the implications of this, my body had pulled the car to the side of the road and had dialed the phone. It wasn't until Jeff's voice resounded in my ear, that I forgot the mental debate and blurted out: "I'm in town. Want to have dinner?"

It was a pretty simple proposal and quickly accepted. We'd meet at five. I'd choose the place. Easy enough. But even though it was a gut decision to call him and I'm all about following my instincts lately, I felt anxious. It's been six months since we broke up and I still get this awful sour feeling inside my stomach whenever I think about him.

I whiled away the time at the mall until five, since consuming material items is an extremely effective method of distraction, though not very kind on the wallet. I bought Ivy's "Long Distance" and Final Fantasy X for my neglected PlayStation and moseyed around looking at this and that. Senses flooded with the heroin-like effects of credit-card swiping, I was suprirsed when I looked down at my watch and realized it was five.

We met at a nice steakhouse called Alexander's for some prime rib and red wine. Conversation was easy and after a short while my nervousness faded into the dimly lit surroundings. There was a reason I hadn't attempted to contact Jeff in such a long time, and that is because he is still hung up on me in a way, which he freely admitted. I had no intentions of rekindling any sort of romance and wanted to meet out of pure concern and curiosity over the doings in his life.

We finished dinner and wandered out into the snow to leave. Showing me his new Jeep, I got in and gently prodded reluctant enthusiasm out the doors of my mouth and eyes to play in the vapors of breath that rose in the only-recently-cold air, and when we went to hug, he wrapped his arms around me snugly and brushed his nose against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and I let myself relax into his hold, wishing that in a perfect world, perhaps I wouldn't have some feelings I was having, and that maybe I wouldn't have to drive home in the snow, that perhaps we could ride home in his Jeep with a towel over my legs and the thrill of newness and anticipation of exploration still fresh on our tongues.