"I agree! Tomorrow before work I'll swing by the Humane Society," I smile valiantly, trying to convince her that I'll be alright.
"Oh Sweetie," she says, clearly seeing through my lame attempt at bravado.
"I'll be alright Rae, really I will. I just need some time."
"I know," she says nodding. "You are brave and strong and no man can keep you down for long."
"I am woman, hear me roar," I say smiling.
"Damn straight!" she says. She looks at me then and I can tell she wants to say something else.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says. "Never mind."
"Rachel!" I say, getting frustrated.
"Was the sex good at least?" she asks, rushing the words out and looking highly embarrassed.
I have to laugh. Oh, that Rachel. "Yes Rae, the sex was good. The best of my life," I say with a resigned sigh.
"Of course," she says. "Fucking men!"
"Indeed. Fucking men!" I concur.
******
The next few days go by surprisingly quickly. Ian and I barely look or speak to each other and the entire pub can tell that something is up. Of course, it is very likely Hal has told at least Tracey and Sean about what he overheard, and they both do love to talk shit.
One night Abby follows me into the restroom. After checking that we are the only two there she asks, "Kelli, are you okay? Did something happen with you and Ian?"
I look at her in the mirror, washing my hands. "I'm okay. Well, no, no I'm not okay. Not in the least. But I will be. I don't really have a choice."
"You and Ian - did you get in a fight?" Abby asks. I can tell she's fishing for information. Not in a rude way, just in a really curious way. But I won't talk about it, especially not to his customers, no matter how close we've grown.
"I really can't talk about it, Abby," I say and she immediately reddens, embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to pry! You just seem so sad. Both of you, actually," she says.
I nod, "Don't worry, I know you weren't trying to pry. It's just, well there's nothing really to talk about, so why bother? Ian and I are just friends. That's all we've ever been, and it's all we ever will be. I should get back out there."
I turn and leave. I feel a little badly for my abrupt behavior, but I'm on the verge of tears, and if I have to look into her sympathetic eyes a second longer, I know I'll lose it.
I take a deep breath and repeat my new mantra: One minute at a time. You can do this. Just take it one minute at a time.
******
It's been a little over two weeks since Ian and I had sex and while we've become experts at politely ignoring each other, the pain hasn't lessened in the least. Each time I see him my heart clenches and stops, and I wonder if that was its last beat.
I haven't checked in with him to see how he's handling things, but Pappy makes little comments here and there, about Ian not sleeping or eating, about how he's stopped taking food to the vets so Pappy's had to do it. That shocked me when he said it. I couldn't imagine why our falling out would make Ian stop taking food to the park and I almost asked him. But when I saw him next and looked in his eyes to ask, the question froze on my lips. It was too much; I still couldn't look at him.
It's Wednesday, and I just finished my session with Pappy. He's gotten much better about thinking of topics for the blog and this week he wanted to talk about the Claddagh ring. There are a lot of misconceptions about the ring here in the States and he wanted to be sure his patrons knew what was what. He told me a moving story about his wife's ring, and I had to hang my head to keep him from seeing me cry.
But Pappy isn't dumb, he knew I was crying. And I know he knows something happened between me and Ian, so why he chose such a romantic, and ultimately sad, topic for the blog, I have no idea. It has actually left me a little pissed at Pappy, so I decide to take a break and head out to the patio to get some air.
Once outside, my phone rings. It's a 202 number, but I don't recognize it. Thinking one of my friends in D.C. must have gotten a new phone, I answer the call.
"Kelli? Hi, it's Claude, from the Dean's Office at American. How are you?"
"I'm good Claude, thanks. How are you?" I ask, bewildered. While I know who Claude is, we've never really had any occasion to interact. I can't begin to imagine why he'd be calling me.
"I'm good, I'm good. Look, I know you are probably busy but I wanted to get your temperature on something really quickly. The Dean's chief of staff just announced her retirement and before we undergo a big recruitment, we were wondering if you'd consider the job. I know you just moved out to L.A., and I can't imagine you'd want to return to D.C., especially in the middle of winter, but you'd be perfect for the job. We'd give you a 50% raise over what you were previously making and if you want it, the job is yours. No interview, no hassle. Both the Dean and I would love to work with you more closely. What do you think? Is it something you'd consider?"
I'm taken aback. Chief of staff for the university's dean? That was my dream job; it's what I had aspired to once I decided to pursue a university career. But is it still my dream job? Do I really want to move back to D.C.? The job would certainly give me a legitimate reason to move, and the salary, wow. But what about Ian? Can I really leave Ian? I walk to the door of the patio and look into the pub. He's behind the bar, chatting with some guy I've seen in a few times, but who I don't know.
"Kelli?" Claude prompts.
"Oh, wow, that's a fantastic offer, Claude. Could I think about it for a few days? I'm pretty happy out here but this is such a great position, I'd really like to think about it."
"Of course! I'm just glad you didn't say no immediately! What do you think - take through the weekend and have an answer for me by Monday? Will that work?" he asks.
"Yes, thanks, Claude. That's perfect," I say. "I'll be back in touch on Monday. Should I use this number?"
"Yep, this is my cell. Feel free to call day or night if you have any questions. We'd really love to have you back on the team, Kelli."
"Thanks. I'll talk to you soon," I say and end the call.
Ian feels my eyes on him and looks up. He senses something's amiss and he tilts his head to the side to study me. I stare back, my heart pounding in my throat and my blood whooshing in my ears. I'm moving back to D.C.
******
It's early Friday morning and I'm standing in front of Ian's door. I've been thinking about it constantly, and I've decided to stick with my gut reaction and return to D.C. for the job. I accomplished a lot by coming out to L.A.; I've proven to myself that I'm capable of stepping out of my comfort zone, that I'm willing to be brave and take risks. I'm proud of myself for that.
I have no reason to stay in L.A. With the increase in salary, I can easily afford to finish out my lease if I can't get someone to sublet. The pub did fine before me; it'll do fine without me. Better, in fact, since the marketing has begun paying off and there's about a 20% increase in sales since I started. Ian can afford to hire someone new.
My last reservation is, of course, Ian. Should I stay, allowing him more time to come to terms with his emotions, allowing him to change his mind and decide he wants to be with me? My heart thinks that's the right thing to do; it is nowhere near ready to give up on him. But the rest of me has resigned itself to the fact that Ian has been clear in his desire to remain single. Love me or not, he doesn't want to be with me and I'm really only hurting myself by remaining open to the possibility of a future with him.
Now I just have to tell him, letting him know I finally agree it is over.
I take a deep breath and knock on the door. It's quiet inside and I wonder if he's up. Or if he's already out. I hope he's returned to handing out food in the park. Those men need him, and I know he finds it deeply rewarding.
The door opens and there's Ian, shirtless and seemingly fresh from a shower. I lose my breath at the sight of him. He is so beautiful, the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and that feeling has only gotten stronger in the months I've known him.
The look on his face is not one of welcome, and it seems he's not planning on asking me inside.
"May I come in, Ian?" I ask a little petulantly.
"Why?"
"I have something I'd like to discuss with you," I say stiffly. Geez, I didn't think I'd get turned away at the door.
"Are you quitting?" he asks quickly, a note of discomfort in his voice.