By Proxy(65)

The doorman opened the bronze and glass door of his apartment building and he stepped inside the warm, chic lobby, surprised to find himself home, his plans for Christmas shopping ambushed by ceaseless thoughts of Jenny Lindstrom.

***

When Sam’s business school friends texted him to meet them at Club Blue, it seemed like a good idea: get out and about, see some friends, remember how much great nightlife Chicago had to offer. He put on some jeans, a white button-down shirt and a navy blazer, slicking his hair back and dousing his cheeks with aftershave.

Looking good, he thought, glancing in the lobby mirror before hailing a cab in a ritual as familiar as breathing. You’ve got this. This is just what you need.

The music seemed louder and more grating than usual but he tried to stay positive as he pushed his way through a throng of people to get closer to the bar. Slogging sideways through the wall of hot, sweaty humanity he finally made his way to Joe.

“Sammy-bro! Merry Christmas, man!” his friend shouted from where he leaned against the bar. “What’re you drinking?”

“Scotch, rocks!” Sam yelled over the thumping house music. Lady Gaga was singing her newest Christmas anthem: The only place you’ll want to be is underneath my Christmas tree…light you up, put you on top, let’s ho-ho…

As the Lady Gaga song phased out, a new beat thumped into place and Sam was surprised to hear the xylophone chords that opened the remixed version of “All I Want for Christmas is You” cut through the monotonous beat. And just like that, he was back in Gardiner. Sure, his body might still have been standing in the sweaty, cacophonous throng in Club Blue in downtown Chicago, but suddenly his heart and head were a thousand miles away as memories of the Gardiner Christmas Stroll came into sharp focus. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered the feeling of Jenny’s hand laced through his while they walked up and down Main Street, eating gingerbread, sipping cider, looking in shop windows—

“Scotch?” Joe confirmed.

“Make it a double!” he shouted back as the song picked up, Mariah’s voice belting out the familiar words over the dance beat.

“Wha-a-a-t?”

I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know…

Sam held up two fingers, thrusting them at Joe. “A DOUBLE!”

“Yeah! Sure!”

Sam gave his friend a tight smile, reaching across two heads of seated people to take the drink Joe passed to him. A big plop of liquid sloshed from the rim of the glass onto one of the heads, drawing Sam’s attention down to a blonde woman sitting on a barstool between him and Joe, with her back to him. Long blond hair ended halfway down her back. Sam’s head whipped back up, his mouth opening slightly in hope, his heart suddenly beating wildly with the music. Every hair on his arm stood upright as he stared at her. Her hair was the same color as… Could it be—?

She turned around, frowning at Sam over her shoulder with an are-you-kidding-me? glare. “Hey! Watch it!”

Sam didn’t realize he was holding his breath until it came out forcefully. Irrationally disappointed it wasn’t Jenny, he mouthed “Sorry” to the girl’s annoyed face and took a bracing sip of scotch.

Jenny wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this, Sam! What’s the matter with you? You’re losing it!

Joe backed away from the bar and maneuvered through the tightly packed bodies to stand next to Sam. It was too loud to talk without shouting, so the pair stood there side by side, looking out at the packed club.

Lights painted everyone royal blue. Women danced in skimpy metallic dresses, businessmen pursued scantily clad girls who looked half their age, bodies gyrated on a packed dance floor, couples made out in dark corners, small clusters of people sat around bottles of expensive champagne in the velvet booths of the roped-off VIP area. Thump, thump, thump went the music and the floor and Sam’s head.

I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight…

He took another swig of scotch, wishing Mariah would just finish up her damn song so that he could try to enjoy his evening without constant memories of Jenny.

“Sam!”

Sam leaned his head down to Joe, who was a few inches shorter.

“Max and the guys have a table over there!” Joe gestured to a space way up near the dance floor and to the left the way an army scout would indicate friendlies hidden in the jungle.

Sam nodded, taking another sip of his drink. Before he could lower his glass, someone bumped him forcefully from behind and a quarter of the drink splashed onto his shirt. He turned and the blonde girl from the bar looked at him with challenging eyes, smirking at the wet spot on his shirt. She yelled over the thumping noise. “How do you like it?”