All Jumbled Up Inside

I can’t believe I’m showing up without a date. I shuffle past the parade of international nannies. Their fluttering accents tickle the air as they wrangle four year olds dressed like middle-aged Eddie Bauer mannequins. Next, I pass the runners. First, the actual runners listening to curated “pump it up” playlists and avoiding eye contact as they zip by, followed by the runners who don’t run at all. These are the gals that wear yoga pants and sip high calorie frappuccinos while sharing this week’s dating mishaps. Rushing past the Lululemon clad crew and under the stone bridge, I wish I had more time to eavesdrop on the menial, but highly entertaining, exchanges. Rounding the bend, I pass the grassy knoll, my favorite spot in Central Park. This is where young lovers on blankets soak each other in. Hailing from small towns in Michigan or Vermont, chasing their destinies of singing on Broadway or being the next big stand up comedian, this is their first big city love.

I regret not wearing sneakers and my tote is getting heavy on my shoulder. My espadrilles that perfectly compliment my airy sage smock are slowing me down. When the invitation stated - “In lieu of gifts please bring a bottle of your choice to help stock our new home” I knew exactly what I wanted to bring, a full bodied Merlot all the way from the South of France.

While my friends were climbing the corporate ladder or getting engaged, I was walking the fields learning tannins and admiring grapes. Each varietal has a personality and purpose of its own. Their fates are all unique; some are meant for lazy afternoons eating oysters, others for popping on New Year’s Eve while wearing a sequin gown, some best sipped alone in sweats while unwinding after a long day. The Merlot swinging by my side at this moment was meant for an evening of fancy foods, corny toasts, beautiful views and more specifically the wedding rehearsal dinner of Kevin and my best friend, Angelica.

Six years ago Angelica and I moved to New York with five hundred dollars, no plans and a friendship everyone envied. The first night in our five floor walk up, we locked ourselves out. Instead of calling Carlos, the landlord that specifically said not to call unless there was a fire or flood, we knocked on the door of the apartment directly below us. After a long pause the door slowly opened. We were met with a gorgeous, tall, twenty something. Imagine Clark Kent in his early years, that was Kevin. He let us use the fire escape to climb up to our place and enter through a window. I was immediately smitten by him. Little did I know he was just as smitten with Angelica. She was oblivious, as usual, to the charm she possessed over every man with whom she came in contact. For weeks Kevin made excuses to come by our place... a piece of mail accidentally placed in his box, dropping off a “welcome to the neighborhood plant”, making sure his music wasn’t too loud. We all became quick friends. The three of us were inseparable, visiting museums, sharing lazy days strolling in the village, going to bad Off-Off-Broadway plays.

After months of pining, he confided he was going to make his move and ask Angelica on a proper date. I knew my window was closing and although she was my best friend I felt I had to get my feelings out or I would explode. Before thinking, I leaned in and kissed him. He jumped back from the game of chess we were playing, visibly confused. He quickly and kindly explained how he didn’t look at me that way. I was wonderful, and he was at ease with me, but in the way an older brother would joke with his sister. He said one day I’d find the right guy and feel all jumbled up inside, the way he felt for Angelica. I knew he was showing me a kindness by saying these things, trying to salvage our friendship, but it burned my ego in a way I’d never experienced.

The next day, showing up at the apartment with yellow roses, her favorite, he asked Angelica to a movie. They were an item from then on. My gut knew that he was never mine and was never meant to be mine. He loved spending days inside playing board games, cards, watching movies, reading books and mulling over new recipes. I couldn’t go more than a few hours indoors. He spoke openly of marrying young and having children, while I dreamt of traveling the world with what I could carry, seeing foreign lands and tasting exotic cuisine. Our differences were obvious but I still felt Angelica had won and I had lost. A few months later I was offered an opportunity to live abroad in France and jumped at the opportunity. I returned three weeks ago to find a wedding invitation in my mailbox.

After all this time I no longer had romantic feelings for Kevin, but a callus of embarrassment and awkwardness had come between the three of us. Angelica and I together, just us, was the same as it had ever been - easy, sweet, strong and straightforward with laughing episodes mixed in. Something about being with both of them together made me feel behind, like my life was not keeping up with theirs. I had a sneaking suspicion this was made up in my head but couldn’t shake it when we were all together.

As I begin approaching the Angel Statue I’m warming up to the idea of the dinner, remembering how much I love Angelica. She truly deserves happiness. I can brush the discomfort under the rug for my best friend. She is a true beauty and bookworm wrapped up in a small Puerto Rican frame with hips that don’t quit and a laugh that starts small and then encompasses a whole room. I can understand why Kevin was infatuated and still is.

Suddenly, I’m snapped alert by a pain in my right thigh, a huge smashing sound and sudden wetness running down my leg. I’ve been hit by a baseball and the beautiful bottle of Merlot is now a puddle around my toes. Deep burgundy splatters cover me, like I jumped in a puddle. I was torn between utter disbelief, anger and surprise. Before I knew what was happening, the most handsome man I’d ever seen was taking his t-shirt off and wiping me down. I still had not moved, my jaw slack, my legs one in front of the other mid-step.

“I’m so so sorry. We just finished our slow pitch game and my buddy was bragging he could still throw the heat. That’s not important now, I’m just so sorry. Can I get you anything?” I heard the words coming out of his mouth but all I could focus on was how caring he was, and how adorable his ringlet falling over his tan brow. Suddenly I came to. What just happened?

“I’m on my way to dinner. Now my dress is soaked and the bottle I was bringing is ruined,” I blurted out. Without missing a beat he responded, “ How much time do you have?”. I answered, “exactly one hour and eight minutes,” knowing I could skip cocktail hour and no one would notice. Without pause he was holding my hand and leading me down the path toward Central Park West. He waved goodbye to his uncoordinated friend and we were off. It was odd how I felt calm as our stride became a rhythm.

Crossing 78th Street, he explained he lived nearby and had a massive wine collection that was mine for the choosing. I think he could tell how nervous and shocked I was that my beeline had been interrupted and he comforted me by oversharing. By the time we were passing the doorman I knew he was one of six children, loved hiking, had spent three years working for a river rafting company in Oregon, hated slam poetry but loved improv. None of these things were qualifiers for me to enter his penthouse, but by the time we hit the fourteenth floor I somehow trusted him. I had spilled my whole story too; explained where I was going, how nervous I felt, that although I was over Kevin I was dreading this event. I even explained my walk leading up to this moment, seeing the nannys, mini-me toddlers, runners, new lovers and eventually the Angel statue, which brought him up to the current situation. How had I explained so much in a short elevator ride?

As we entered I took in the worn leather couch, pile of books by the armchair and antique paintings hanging from floor to ceiling. He explained that his uncle passed away with no children and left him this amazing apartment plus the shelves and shelves of wine. This collection was one that took many years to amass. My mouth salivated at the faded and slightly dusty labels. Just as I was moving toward them I remembered I was in a splattered dress.

He handed me a robe and I was moving toward a partition to undress. WAIT, was I really going to take off my clothes in a strangers apartment? This had to be a mistake. What was I thinking? Part of me felt more at ease with this man than any person I had ever met, and part of me remembered we literally had known each other for half an hour. By this point I was handing him the dress and moving on to study Shiraz, Pinot Noir, Cabernet, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Rose all lined up by the hundred from Italy, France, California, Virginia, Oregon and beyond. A few minutes later he returned. I hugged my robe tighter but also felt butterflies as he got close enough to hand my dress back.

How in the world had he hand-washed the stains out and blow dried it in only ten minutes? It was impressive. Now was not the time to ask questions. I jumped behind the divider and redressed. As I walked back to the bottles I spotted the exact same Merlot that I had brought all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. I couldn’t believe it was there. He reappeared dressed in slacks, a baby blue shirt that made his eyes pop, and a skinny tie.

“After all that, I have to at least walk you back to your party”. I wanted to tell him no, that he didn't have to bother, but the idea of showing up with a handsome and kind man by my side made me feel less nervous, possibly even excited. “Only if you stay for a drink”, I replied, suddenly remembering how to flirt.

We entered the Boathouse just as guests were finding their seats. I took a huge deep breath and smiled a genuine smile as Kevin and Angelica approached to say hello. Before I could react, my handsome stranger took my hand and led us to meet them halfway. I gave them each a hug and felt the most honest sense of happiness I had felt in a long time.

“Hello Aleece, it’s incredible you are back in New York and able to join us,” Kevin said. “We are both so happy you are here,” Angelica exclaimed with a little squeal. “And who is this..” she said in a sing-song tone.

The world stopped. I spent a whirlwind hour and a half with a man, spilled my guts to him, shared my secrets, stood almost naked in his penthouse, listened to his stories, took his wine and have no idea what his name is. Handing them the bottle of Merlot, I gave a sly smile and simply replied, “he’s my plus one; this is our first date.” I was feeling, for the first time in my life, all jumbled up inside.