It is breathtaking and beautiful and yet somehow caught in the blind spot of popular consciousness.
I’ve always wondered if Chicago prefers to shy from the onerous and usually dysfunctional limelight of notoriety; I hypothesize that it is more than to content to be smart and genuine and breathtaking without attracting the attention that plagues those that are notorious and ostentatious.
On my way back I picked up coffee from Starbucks and indulged in more Quinn Sullivan obsessing; eventually, I stopped outside of Utrecht Art Supply and accomplished window shopping. When I arrived home I found Elizabeth cleaning the kitchen. I felt a little disappointed; I was planning on spending time procrastinating by cleaning the kitchen. Instead I took a shower and shaved everything that could be shaved. I plucked my eyebrows then decided to give myself a pedicure.
Elizabeth eyed me with suspicion as I sat on the couch and propped my foot on the coffee table. I attempted to ignore her pointed gaze.
After a period of tense silence she said, “So, what are you needing to do that you don’t want to do?”
I huffed, disliking that she knew me so well, and confessed, “Jem sent me an email.”
“Jem?” Elizabeth didn’t try to suppress her surprise, “When?”
“On Thursday.”
“What does she want?”
I uncapped the nail polish remover and applied a liberal amount to a cotton ball; “She wants to visit.”
“Who?”
I half laughed, half groaned, “I’m guessing me. She said she wanted to see me.”
She shook her head, “This is so strange. She doesn’t even like you.”
I shrugged, “I know.”
It was true. My own sister didn’t like me. It wasn’t that we didn’t get along; Jem just didn’t seem to like anyone. Sometimes she pretended to like people but only for as long as was necessary to obtain what she needed. I felt that there was a distinct possibility that she was a sociopath.
Abruptly I placed the cap back on the nail polish remover and pulled out my laptop. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid of fretfulness and just answer her damn email. I responded:
Jem- I’m in town all next week but will be gone part of the week after for a business trip. When do you plan to arrive? How long are you staying? Do you want to see/do anything in particular while you are here? Let me know the details when you are able. Talk to you soon, Janie
It seemed benign enough but I was pretty sure it would annoy the hell out of her. She didn’t like confiding her plans even when they directly affected someone else.
That issue settled, for now, I decided to email Jon about dinner. Even though Steven couldn’t make it I felt compelled to keep my dinner arrangements with Jon, especially after cancelling two times in a row. As I began composing an email something in my vicinity began to chime.
I stopped typing and looked to Elizabeth in confusion, “What is that? It sounds like an ice cream truck.”
Elizabeth paused loading the dishwasher, holding a dripping plate, “It actually sounds like a cell phone. Is that your new phone?”
I started, remembering the phone, and began ransacking the living room trying to find the blasted thing. At one point it stopped ringing but then, seconds later, began again. I was cussing and was mid-single-syllable four letter word when I found the cursed contraption.
“-uck! Yes! Hello?”
“Hey.”
Outwardly, my body stiffened; inwardly, my bones dissolved. “Oh, hi- hi- hello! How are you?”
“Good. How are you?” Quinn sounded like he was smiling. An image of him smiling flashed across my consciousness causing the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle.
“I’m well. It’s, uh-” I glanced over at Elizabeth. She was making suggestive gestures with her still wet hands. I gave her a dirty look then turned completely away. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Even via cell phone?”
I smiled despite myself and responded, “It would be better if it weren’t via cell phone.”
“I agree. I’m calling about dinner. What time should I pick you up?”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Dinner. Tonight.”
“Um…” I frowned and glanced at the message still open on my laptop that I’d been typing Jon.
“Janie? …Are you backing out?”
“No- no. I’m not backing out. It’s just, I can’t tonight. I already have plans.” Movement from Elizabeth caught my eye and I found her glaring at me and mouthing: ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ I shooed her away.
Quinn didn’t respond immediately so I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen, attempting to decipher if I’d hung up on him. None of the symbols seemed to indicate anything of value so I spoke into the phone again, “Quinn? Are you still there? Did I hang up on you?”