Crisis Management

"I only have this one," she said.

"No you don't," I disagreed, plopping down three of my four. "These are yours, too."

"No, Mike..."

"I don't even eat half of this stuff! But it was hard enough to talk you into letting me buy you anything, I knew you'd try to play it as light as possible, rather than buy what you really needed--right?"

She kind of half-frowned and sighed. "Right" she agreed with resignation.

"So I did the shopping for you, that's all."

"Why are you doing all these nice things for me?" she quizzed.

Because I worship the ground you walk on? I bit my tongue, and instead shrugged "I'm a sucker for redheads?"

She giggled--and then let me help her carry the bags to her place. It was two subway stops from me, near the top of a high-rent high-rise. She and Paulo must have been pretty well-set; I know I couldn't have afforded that place, probably not even on twice my income. It must have been quite a change to go from that to nothing. I helped her unpack, and now that her kitchen was restocked she insisted that since I'd bought the food, the least she could do was cook it. And so I sat at the breakfast bar and chatted while she made us dinner. I don't know what it is she made, but it was so flavorful it was a long time before I realized it was meatless.

"Are you a vegetarian?" I asked, "I guess I should have asked if you ate meat before I bought any."

"It's OK. I'm not a strict vegetarian; it's just that I don't usually need meat. I'm sure I'll eat everything eventually."

Somehow it was after nine before I headed home. And as she sent me off, she gave me a hug and peck on the cheek. I eschewed the subway and walked the whole way home, completely unaware of the rain drumming on my head.

---------------

I thought of her the whole week, but I couldn't think of a good reason to call her. Friday afternoon I was sitting in my office in a most unusual state for me--I was counting the minutes until quitting time. I thought of the Fridays before, and that this week I had no plans whatsoever. I wished I would be seeing Brianna. That voice in the back of my head returned.Stop sitting there complaining and do something about it! You have her number, for crissakes. I knew what I wanted...I just felt sure she was going to refuse. Well...maybe if I was proactive about it...

"Hello," she answered when I rang her phone.

"Hey Brianna, its Mike. Any news?"

"Not since Monday. More bills, no interviews."

"Hang in there," I encouraged. "Say...maybe you can help me with a problem."

"After all you've done for me, the least I can do is try. What's up?"

"Well...I hate eating alone, yet that's what I do every single day. I know this person that I think is also be eating alone--it would make sense that we join up for dinner, ya know? But there's a problem--she's a little short of cash these days, and she won't let me pay her way because she feels I've done too much for her already. So how do I get this person to join me for a friendly little dinner without having to arm-wrestle about the fact that it might cost me five bucks?"

"Ooh, that is a tough one," she answered, pretending my question was hypothetical. "You see, girls don't like to feel like they owe a guy something. Or maybe I should say they don't want a GUY to feel like SHE owes HIM something, ya know what I mean? A girl doesn't want to be in a situation where she might feel pressured into doing something she otherwise wouldn't choose to."

"You know, that makes perfect sense," I responded as if we were debating a point, "but what about the guy? He can promise up and down until he's blue in the face that he doesn't feel like she owes him anything--she's not really going to believe him, is she?"

"Probably not," she agreed.

"She's too afraid of what might happen down the road. But that pretty much leaves the guy screwed, doesn't it? I mean, that pretty much means there's not a damn thing the guy can do to convince her he just wants to go to dinner, and not anything else?"

"Oh, he might be able to convince her of that in the short run--but what if it changes? What if it keeps happening? At some point, doesn't the man start to feel like maybe she DOES owe him something?"

"Maybe," I agreed, "I could see where that might happen. I could also see where it might NOT happen. Either way, it's a future outcome--something not knowable in the present, right? Isn't there an old saying about not crossing bridges until you come to them?"

"Yes," she said softly, "but we don't want to hurt a man's feelings by rejecting him. It's better to just not go down that road."

"There's one problem with your logic," I countered. "It may hurt the man's feelings to be rejected, but that doesn't take into account that that's as true at day one as it is down the road. I don't think it has anything to do with what the guy feels. I think it's easier for a girl to reject a man before she really knows anything about him, before she is able to truly imagine him feeling hurt. No man's feelings are being spared here—it's just easier for the woman."

"I see," she replied, continuing as if this were a debate. "And what solution do you propose to this dilemma?"

"I dare you," I replied, "to have dinner with me tonight."

"Ooh, a challenge," she cooed, "I HATE backing down from a challenge. But you forget, there is still the guilt issue..."

"Easily minimized," I said dismissively, "I'm not talking Chez Lafitte here. I'm talking let's grab a beer and wings at a sports bar or something like that. Something low-cost and low-key."

"Well," she hesitated, "as long as it's low-cost and low-key, I accept the dare."

We agreed to meet at a chain place located on the second floor of a building overlooking Times Square. She came in a soft knit sweater with a short black skirt, opaque black tights and the same boots from Monday. The sweater hugged her curves, and her legs in those tights...goddamn if she didn't look like a million dollars in damn near anything.

We had a nice dinner. She told me more about Paolo, I told her about the last girlfriend I'd had. We talked about our families, background, college, jobs we'd had. Eventually our stories intersected at the gym where I used to watch her working out over lunch.

"Yeah," she said wistfully, "I miss the gym. I mean, I have all kinds of time to exercise now, so I run when the weather is good enough and do stuff around the house. Our building even has some basic weight machines we can use, but I don't have any place where I can really do good pilates anymore."

"You mean like the thing that looks like the rack?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I mean like the things that looks like the rack. Those things are amazing for toning your core." She unconsciously patted her firm tummy as she spoke. I certainly couldn't think of a better testimonial than that.

I wished she would be back at the gym, too, not just because it was another place to see her but because my own workouts had slacked so badly since she wasn't there inadvertently motivating me. I'd have been happy to pay for her to come back to the gym, too, but I knew she'd never allow that. It felt like there was some sort of line that one had to cross to go from paying for a few groceries to paying for a gym membership; I think you could safely call Brianna and I friends at this point, but clearly that was all. The safest thing I could think of to say was "Yeah, I wish you were still coming too--the place is never more than half-full anymore."

"Really? You used to have to wait in line to get a machine."

"Not anymore. You weren't the only casualty of this economic crisis." I thought for a moment, then impulsively blurted out a half-formed idea. "You know...I have an individual membership, but it's only like twenty bucks more for the family plan. If you pretended to be my girlfriend, I could upgrade and get you a card."

"That would be lying...I couldn't do that" she said, but her tone indicated that she might be willing to consider bending if it meant getting her beloved gym back.

"Technically, yes," I agreed, "you'd probably have to tell them that you lived with me. I guess that would mean that any future mailings they sent would end up in my box--actually, that kind of seems like a bonus to me. I dunno, we used to do that kind of stuff all the time when I was a kid. My aunt and uncle would take a car full of us cousins to the Y and pretend we were all their kids so we could use the pool. They're pretty much hurting too right now--at this point I think they'd be happy to take an extra 20 and run, you know?"

"Maybe you're right," she said hesitantly, "but I just don't feel right..."

"Meet me there Monday at 11:30," I persisted, "I'll do all the talking. That way you won't have to lie at all."

"I'll think about it," is where we left it.

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Monday, I went to the gym at 11:30 not knowing if she'd be there or not. At first she wasn't; I sighed and checked in with my card. I went in and changed, and just because I wanted it so bad I swung by the front desk on my way to the exercise room. There she was, sitting in the foyer, red hair in a ponytail, wearing stretchy workout pants and carrying a small gym bag.

"Hey!" I said, genuinely surprised.

She got up smiling. "Sorry I'm late," she said, "problem in the subway."

"No problem," I said, heart suddenly lighter. We went back to the membership desk where I added her to my account as my "girlfriend." As I walked her towards the women's locker room, she whispered to me "thank you once again, but I'm only doing this on one condition. I'll only use the gym when you're here. I know I have a card, but I still consider myself as a guest here, and it's not right for a guest to be here if her host isn't. So I need you to promise me you'll let me know if you're not able to make it, and I won't come on those days either. OK?"

"OK," I agreed. I could see it made her feel better to act like she were a guest. But talk about a bonus for me--she had her whole day free, she could easily have come to gym any time she wanted, but by her own choice she was going to be here the same time as me. She came back out wearing a familiar black-and-pink matching shorts and sports bra combination, only instead of ignoring my stares, she made a beeline for me. She'd spent at least as many hours in this gym as I had, but she was acting like a three-year-old in a crowd, sticking close to me like I was the only person she knew. I on the other hand had a workout buddy, and what better workout buddy than the hottest babe in the gym? She took the guest thing to the extreme, insisting on taking the machine next to mine, refusing to do machines if I was on weights or vice versa, and so on. As a result we both had to adjust our routines to better mesh our workouts. She even showed me how to use her pilates machines; I had to, or she wouldn't use them and that was the main reason she was here. The first time I tried them, I couldn't bend over without pain for three days.

For the next several weeks things went on like that. I saw her at the gym every weekday, and we met for a casual dinner on Saturday. I couldn't ask for more—I had a friendship with the woman of my dreams. And yet as every day passed, more is exactly what I wanted. That phone conversation we'd had when I challenged her to have dinner with me--it kept coming back to me. It wasn't that I felt like she owed me anything; everything I gave her I gave her freely and would happily do so again. Yet as we spent more time together, I couldn't help but wish that she wanted me more like the way I wanted her. In many ways, getting to know her made it worse; before it had been unrequited puppy love to a woman I viewed as impossibly perfect. Now I knew her and became aware of some of her faults, but I that didn't make me like her any less. Maybe the hardest part of all was that the dream of having a relationship was now absolutely imaginable—but just being able to imagine something does not make it so. My heart skipped a beat every time I saw her, but to her I was just a nice guy. Don't get me wrong, I would much rather have a platonic relationship with her than none at all, but it got harder and harder to hide my deepening feelings for her when there was no sign of any romantic attraction in return. Once in a while she might give me a peck on the cheek, but even that felt more euro-friendly than anything else. Once I had argued with her that rejecting a man from the get-go was no less hurtful than rejecting him later down the line. It was starting to feel like I was proving myself very, very wrong.

In some ways, the holidays were coming at a good time. Brianna was going back home to Boston, I was headed back to the Midwest. Saturday fell on 20th; at dinner, Brianna surprised me by having a little present for me. It was thin and flat; when I opened it, she had done a drawing of me in pastels, much like the caricature artists you see at fairs. It was a good likeness of my face, especially since she had done it from memory, only my body was that of Superman, with an oversized blue chest and tiny red cape. I had no idea she had such artistic talent. "Wow."

"Do you like it?"

"It's...amazing." I said, astonished.

"Well, it seemed appropriate. If I hadn't run into you, I don't know how I'd have made it through this fall. I'm sorry I couldn't afford a frame for it."

"Well, thank you," I replied. "I didn't know you were so talented!"

She just shrugged. Then in a serious tone, she said "the lawyer called today."

"Oh?"

"He said the divorce could go final as soon as the week after Christmas. Once it does, I'll probably have to move out of the house and the courts will take receivership. It sounds like they'll try to bundle our debt with the equity in the condo, so I'll finally be free of bills and should get a little of our savings back. But I'll have no place to live, and of course I still don't have a job."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked.

"I may have to live with my parents for a while," she said softly.

"So..." I said slowly as the implications sunk in, "you might not be coming back from Boston when the holidays are over..."

She smiled sadly and put her hand gently on the back of mine. "No. I love New York, but it's just not possible to keep living here with no income..."

I nodded, and tried my best to smile. She had a kind, sympathetic look in her eyes. Suddenly, it seemed like maybe she understood far better than I realized the depths of my feelings I was harboring towards her. "I'm going to keep looking. I really do want to come back to the city. But I've been looking for months now, and still no one is hiring. At this point I don't when, or even if, I'll be coming back."

"I'll miss you at the gym," I croaked around the frog suddenly infesting my throat.

"I'll keep in touch. I'll call you when I'm back in town. And if you're ever in Boston, you'd better call me! OK?"

"OK," I smiled hollowly. I'll keep in touch--perhaps the most-repeated lie in the history of civilization. It's not that we don't want to, it's just that most of us never seem to get around to actually following up, and deep down we know it even as we promise otherwise.

We parted in Times Square. She hugged me earnestly. I knew she really appreciated me--just not in the way I wished she did. "Thanks again for all you've done for me, Mike," she spoke softly into my ear. Then we left, going separate ways. I trudged home in a fog. Walking in the door and taking off my coat, the little package fell out. I picked it up and again unrolled Brianna's drawing. Stealing the frame from a picture of my old girlfriend and I on a camping trip years ago, I put her drawing in the frame and hung it on the wall. This, it seemed, would be my lasting reminder of what might have been.

------------

I left for home on Tuesday. It was good to be out of New York for the holiday, especially while I got used to Brianna having passed out of my life yet again. We never had what most people would call a relationship, but I was just as sad as if it had been a breakup because it meant giving up the dreams I had held for so long. I thought a lot about Brianna and what she might be doing Boston while I was away. I wondered what her parents were like, her brother and sister, the friends from college she was looking forward to seeing. I hoped she was having a nice holiday, she sure had a rough year. As for me...well, I guess I was just alone again.

As you might have predicted from what I've already told you, I was back to work on the 27th. I ran into Eric, and he invited me to a New Year's party. I didn't decline right away in case I changed my mind, but I wasn't in the mood to go. He tried to convince me that some of his wife's friends would be there and weren't married, but I knew that didn't mean they'd be coming alone. I imagined I'd be the only one there by myself, the lonely loser. I stayed home, and actually fell asleep on the couch before midnight, so it woke me up when my Blackberry buzzed two minutes into the new year. Brianna had sent me a text. It simply saidHappy New Year Mike. I texted backHNY 2u 2, rolled over and went back to sleep.

About 11 that morning I got another text.Do u work tomorrow? January 2 fell on a Friday, so a lot of places had elected to elongate the holiday. Not us.Yes I replied. Her response wasCan u meet me at the coffee shop below the gym at 5? I stared at the message for a long time. The coffee shop below the gym? Why was she back in New York? She had told me she wasn't sure if she'd be coming back at all. In fact, I got kind of worried.Of course. Everything OK? I texted back.Not to worry was the response.

A one-day workweek is useless anyway, and knowing that I was unexpectedly meeting Brianna (and not knowing why) after work made it more so. By 5:02 I was at the coffee shop. Brianna was already there, sitting at a table for two in a wool coat, tight jeans and those boots again. She smiled a big smile and waved at me as I came in. I smiled and headed towards her with some uncertainty. I certainly didn't expect that she would stand up, throw her arms around me and hug me, but that's what she did. I had no idea how to take it.

"It's certainly a nice surprise to see you here," I ventured cautiously.

"I came back to sign the final papers. As of today, I'm officially divorced!"

"Congratulations," I said, not sure if that was the appropriate response or not.

"I wasn't sure I was going to be able to come back, but the lawyer you found me convinced the judge that it wasn't reasonable on the 29th of December that I vacate by the 31st. I have until the end of February to pack up before they take receivership."

"Well that only makes sense. So you have eight more weeks in New York? That's great! What are you going to do?"

"This month, I'm still going to try to find a job. I don't have that much to pack, really; I got my clothes, personal belongings and the kitchen stuff in the settlement, but the other furniture was claimed by the court."

"Well I'm really happy to hear that," I said, while deep down I wasn't sure what to make of it all. Part of me was ecstatic at getting to see her for another couple months; part of me wanted to stay away, as it would be that much harder when she did leave.

"So how was your holiday?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Great," she said, "it felt good to see my family again. Some of my old friends were also back for the holidays. I went out with a few of them during the week between Christmas and New Years. Kind of felt like old times."

"Sounds like fun," I commented.

"It was, but something kind of funny happened at one of the bars though. You know, I haven't been out unescorted for a long time, so I forgot how guys in bars are. I was sitting there, waiting to flag down a bartender to order another drink, when this guy behind me suddenly pokes his head in. He introduces himself and asks if I'm seeing someone. The first thing that crossed my mind was that I was married. I had to remind myself that I'm not anymore, so my second thought was well, I guess not. But then I thought about you. I mean, we've really just been friends, but we've done a lot of things together. I mean, you could easily have called some of them dates, you know? So my third thought was, maybe the answer really was yes after all."