Between Friends (28 page)

“
Can I get you anything
else?” the waitress with a lisp says, while wiping her hands on her
white bistro apron.

“
No, I’m fine, thank you.”
I reply looking down at my half eaten muffin and empty sugar rimmed
mug from my pumpkin spiced latte. She picks up the mug and gives me
a pitiful smile.

Do I look that strung
out?

I glance down at my cell phone to see
it is already two in the afternoon. What on earth have I been doing
here for the past couple of hours? I have barely accomplished a
thing, yet I have spent the greater part of my day here. I really
need to stop this procrastination. It is so unlike me.

My phone rings and it startles me. I
answer it right away, only to hear Emily’s voice on the other
line.

“
Where are you?”

“
At some café” I say
gathering up my papers and taking a final bite of my muffin. I
really need to get myself together.

“
I waited for you all
morning at the office. I called you a couple of times, but it went
straight to voicemail-”

“
I was probably at Mrs. van
den Berg’s when you called. You know I forward all my calls to
voicemail when I am with clients.” I remind her and push my way
through the café’s heavy wooden doors.

“
I still can’t believe you
scored that listing!” Emily squeals with excitement, “Clint is
overjoyed about it. This is a really big deal for the company and
of course your career. You are so lucky.”

“
I know. I can’t believe
she actually requested me.” I say pulling my jacket tighter around
my waist as the cool winter breeze pierces my skin.

“
I had a showing of that
condo by Wrigley Field, but it’s over now. Can you meet me at the
office in twenty minutes? We really need to go over that paper work
and sign off on a few things.”

“
I’ll be there.” I say, and
shove my phone into my purse.

As I hop on the subway, I promise
myself that I will flip the Ben switch off in my brain and actually
focus on work. I need this van den Berg listing so bad that I
cannot screw it up.

****

Once I get home from spending my whole
afternoon with Emily, I continue to work diligently on closing
deals and filing legal paperwork. I feel productive for the first
time today, and I haven’t once thought about Ben or
Jessica.

But when eight o’clock hits,
everything changes. As much as I tried to avoid it, I knew Ben was
patiently waiting for me at the Green Mill Pub. Then at quarter
after eight, my phone vibrates on the coffee table. I nervously
pick it up to see Ben has sent me a text:

You coming?

I feel a boulder form in my throat and
my stomach twist in knots. Oh God. What should I write back? I
can’t avoid him forever.

A few moments pass before the
television distracts me. It flickers that the Bachelor will be
coming up next (mine and Jessica’s favorite show). My heart sinks
as I realize how much I truly miss Jessica. I wish I could call her
and ask her what I should do as I run my fingers over my cell and
debate my response to Ben. Should I just go and meet him, or should
I avoid him until I am ready? She would know the answer, especially
when it came to Ben.

It pangs me with such sadness to think
she is probably all cozied up, watching the Bachelor without me on
her comfy leather sofa. We always watched every episode together,
and if we couldn’t be together, we would Skype during the
commercial breaks so we could intensely discuss the drama that
insured. My phone vibrates again, distracting me with another text
from Ben:

Please Megan. We really
need to talk.

I stare at my phone analyzing his text
over and over again in my mind. I quickly text him back:

About what?

I sit on my couch, nervously bouncing
my foot on the floor and chewing my fingernails. Those seconds last
forever before I hear my phone vibrate. I glance down at his
dreaded response:

I would really prefer to
speak to you in person.

Doesn’t he just want to spare me the
humiliation of his inevitable rejection by taking the easy way out
through technology? So I text him back:

Well, I’m not
coming.

There. Take that Ben.

I place my phone face down on the
coffee table and know I made the right decision not to see him
tonight. I get up from the couch and walk into my bedroom to throw
on a good pair of sweats with an oversized t-shirt. With hunched
shoulders, I schlep back into living room and flop down on the
sofa. Then Ben sends me a final text:

I understand.

That’s right.
I think to myself,
Ben
better understand that I am not okay with going back to being just
friends after that.

I turn off my cell phone and lean back
on the sofa to snuggle up with my cozy warm blanket. Despite the
pain I feel right now from knowing this confrontation with Ben is
inevitable, I know I made the right choice. The last thing I want
to hear is the dreaded “friend” word right now.

Chapter 24

The following week flies by like a
blur. I have so many showings for my new properties and I even sold
one within twenty-four hours of it being listed on the market
(which is always a bonus in the real estate trade). I’ve been
dealing with a million phone calls, loads of paper work and overly
demanding clients. I’ve been so tied up, sometimes even after dark,
closing deals and negotiating offers that there have been times
when I actually forgot to go to the bathroom. It wouldn’t be until
my bladder felt like it is about to explode, when I would finally
bolt my way to the nearest toilet for a tinkle. Thankfully, the
intensity from my workload has been a great distraction from Ben
and has forced me to stay preoccupied from dwelling on my
love-hindered reality.

Ever since I left Ben high and dry
that night, at the Green Mill Pub, he has not once tried to contact
me; but I haven’t tried to contact him either. There has not been
one phone call or text or email between the two of us. Which is
crazy, because in all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think
either of us, has ever gone this long without talking to one
another. I try to remind myself not to be too bothered by his
blatant disregard, because I know deep down, I was the one who
purposely blew him off.

But there was a moment last Wednesday,
when he strolled into the office around two in the afternoon that I
finally thought about approaching him. I watched him greet everyone
with his gorgeous white smile as he cascaded down the rows of
cubicles and I hated him for looking so good. He wore a charcoal
grey suit with a crisp white shirt and paisley print baby blue tie
with flecks of grey. He passed by my desk, and I locked eyes with
him, just to see if maybe he would give me some sort of sign that
things could potentially ease up between us. He uncomfortably
shifted his eyes and forced them down to the papers fumbled in his
hands. I watched him glance down at his cell phone and slide into
his chair before I looked away. I felt stupid for momentarily
letting my guard down and letting Ben catch my stare. I went back
to work and buried my head into the paper work piled up on my
desk.

Today, the Ben drama only continues
when Emily points out she noticed Ben and I weren’t showing up
together at the office in the morning.

I give her a quizzical stare, “So,
what’s the big deal?”

Emily raises her eyebrows, “Well I
happened to overhear a few of our co-workers talking about how they
noticed Ben was acting strange whenever you were
around.”

“
Define strange.” I say,
not at all impressed by this sudden inquisition.

“
Well if you must know,
someone said that earlier this week they saw a note from Ben asking
you to call him. And then apparently he came into the office and
you tried to run away from him?” Emily smiles at me, and I am not
sure what to make of it. Is she curious? Or is she on to
me?

“
You know, people around
our office really need to mind their own business. Reitman Realty
is worse for gossip than a high school full of teenage girls.” I
snap, and scan my papers through the photocopier; “Just because Ben
and I don’t grab a coffee together in the morning, and he asks me
to call him on a post-it note doesn’t mean anything weird is going
on between us.”

Emily stands there, skeptically
nodding and listening to me ramble on, “If you say so.”

I let out an awkward chuckle,
“Actually, you will be happy to know ever since Ben and I have
discontinued our usual routine, I have made great use of the Keurig
Clint bought everyone last year for Christmas.”

Unfortunately, Emily doesn’t share a
laugh like I had anticipated. I thought for sure she would see the
humor of my saying so, because when Clint dressed as Santa Claus
last year and handed out a Keurig to everyone, Emily, Ben and I
quietly joked around the dessert table that buying a bunch of
realtor’s one cup coffee machines, was like giving drug addicts
their drug of choice for Christmas. Because one thing was sure
around Reitman Realty LLC, no one needed any more coffee to feed
his/her already prominent addiction.

I nervously giggle and tap my papers
with a pen.

Emily narrows her eyes, “You know. I
have to admit. I didn’t notice the weird behavior at first. It
wasn’t until Ben strolled into the office without you this morning
and asked me if I had seen you lately that I couldn’t help but
question if something was up.”

I gulp and look away. For some reason
I am feeling guilty about hiding everything from Emily.

“
I am just trying to stay
focused that’s all. Ben and I are just on different schedules right
now.” I lie, but quickly add to change the subject, “So, do you
have any good plans this weekend?”

Emily furrows her brow and leans down
on the photocopier, “Well tonight I am going down to Weed Street to
meet my girlfriends for drinks at Sangria. Would you like to come?”
Before I can answer, she straightens up with a smirk, “Or do you
already have plans with Ben? Don’t you two have some sort of
television series marathons on Friday nights?”

“
No not tonight.” I blush,
and think that is
exactly
what I would be doing if I hadn’t agreed to that
goddamn coin toss. But I refuse to dwell on Ben, and I definitely
don’t want Emily to notice my discomfort.

I can really appreciate her invite
though. I need to get out – for my own sanity. I haven’t heard from
any of my remaining friends this week, including Jessica. I am
still under the assumption that everyone, (excluding Jessica) isn’t
intentionally trying to avoid me. Instead I secretly hope they are
all busy (as I happen to be), now that we are back to our normal
lives.

“
You know what, I’d love to
come. It sounds like fun.” I say, and hope I am right.

****

I arrive at Sangria determined to
enjoy myself. When I walk into the bar, the lights are low and the
air is hot. It is packed with people scattered in every which way,
as I try to push my way through the crowd and find
Emily.

I wanted to feel good
tonight, so I could forget all about Jessica’s rage and Ben’s
rejection. I also know from hanging out with Emily and her friends
before, they don’t hesitate to dress to impress with their perky
fake boobs and flawless smiles. So, in order to keep up with the
ladies, I put on a
cute black jersey dress
with lacey sleeves. I added a contrasting blue belt to cinch my
waistline to let it open up to a flirty flared skirt. I even put on
a pair of stilettos and spiced up my normal makeup routine by
adding some eye shadow and curling my eyelashes.

I push past the swarmed bar
area, filled with all different types of men in business suits and
women in sophisticated dresses, making me feel like I more than
appropriately dressed. This place isn’t half as disgusting as a bar
Ben would pick for a Friday night. For some reason, the bars he
likes are full of tattooed guys with bad body odor and young girls
with tongue rings and daddy issues. This place actually has an
excellent vibe and people I can relate to, a smartly dressed,
professional crowd.

Emily appears in the
distance and waves me over to a swanky booth in the corner, where
she and her friends already ordered a round of martinis and some
tapas.

“
Megan you look fabulous!”
Emily shouts, placing a kiss on either side of my cheek, “You
remember Darla and Fiona don’t you?”

I do. I remember both of
them very well. Darla is a six-foot tall Amazonian woman with long
jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. She once spent her later
teens and early twenties modeling all over Europe, living off the
trust fund from her wealthy Moroccan father she barely knew. On the
other hand, Fiona is a lawyer with curly auburn hair and a body to
die for. She is a perfectly pair shaped woman with curves in all
the right places. She is a yoga instructor on the side and is
extremely bubbly and a pleasure to be around. Emily refers all her
clients to Fiona for all their legal real estate needs.
Coincidently, that is how they became such good friends. But
somehow between Darla taking a yoga class Fiona taught, and Emily
taking on a more active role in the single lifestyle had the three
of them quickly becoming friends and hitting it off in the windy
city.