5. Mer - Our City

Entering the swanky, upscale bar, I spotted Piper quickly. She was leaning over a drink, chatting with the bartender, dressed in what I’d call a femme fatale look, with her blonde hair slicked back in a low pony and wearing a long, tight maroon dress. Leave it to Piper to wear a dress even when it was basically negative two degrees outside.

“You l-look amazing-g,” I told her, teeth chattering and my body still shaking from the freezing wind outside.

“Thank you, I’m sure you look great under that huge ass coat,” she said with a laugh. “You know it’s only October, right? It’s about to get a lot colder around here.”

“I don't think I can take it off,” I told her seriously. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be warm again. Michigan does not have wind like this.”

She laughed again. “Welcome to the Windy City. You’ll get used to it. Here.” She slid a drink in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the bartender, who was giving me a look of sympathy.

“That, my dearest and oldest friend,” she stuck her angular nose in the air, “is a long island iced tea.”

“Piper,” I bit out a laugh, “I haven’t had one of these in years.”

She gave me a wicked grin. “And that is why it’s needed now. No talking until we’re at least one deep. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I said warily, but I took a sip of the fruity drink anyway. I could practically see my mom shaking my head at me right now for going along with another one of Piper’s ill-advised plans.

“It is a great idea. I already gave Mr. Bartender here that disturbing hundred dollar bill,” she shuddered, “and we’re drinking ‘til it’s gone. Then we’re going dancing. Cheers.” She clinked my glass.

“Dancing?” My eyebrows popped up in surprise. I was dressed in yoga pants and a sweater, totally not a clubbing outfit, and I really didn’t feel like venturing into a sticky bar. “Where?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll figure it out. Did you know dancing is the best exercise for mood improvement? They say it’s better at treating depression than running and SSRI’s.” She pulled a face. “I hate running.”

“I’m not depressed,” I responded quickly, then paused. “Are you?”

She drained the rest of her drink, then grinned like a Cheshire cat. “If we dance, no one is.”

______

Piper was right. While dancing, I forgot everything about today, everything about my job, my money issues, my relationships– or rather, lack of relationships. All I thought about was what song would be coming next. I sighed. All I needed in life were strobe lights, a DJ booth, and my best friend throwing her head back, laughing.

We were dancing in a sea of young 20-somethings, but I couldn’t care less that we were probably the oldest in the bar. This was needed.

When a remix of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! from Mamma Mia blasted through the speakers, Piper screamed that it was her song, then somehow ended up on stage with the DJ. The dance floor crowd cheered her on, loving her moves. She looked like a total star up there. No one in the bar probably had the slightest clue that she’d probably be in the Olympics for dancing on ice pretty soon here.

After the song ended, she jumped down and tugged me to the bar for another drink.

“Okay, I think we are thoroughly tipsy,” Piper said, clapping her hands together. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and dancing. “Time to address the elephant in the room… Or, I guess we could call it a whale. Like Whalers. Ha. See, Patrick is wrong,” she pointed out, “I am funny.” Patrick was her ice dance partner who was currently back home visiting his family in Montreal. Like most figure skaters, he brought his skates on vacation with him, and Piper would actually be joining him in Montreal for two weeks starting on Monday so they could keep up with their training.

“Noo,” I complained. I wanted to stay in this happy little bubble.

“No, you’re not tipsy?” she asked, raising her hand to flag the bartender.

“No,” I hiccupped and slapped her hand down. “ That I am. I just don’t want to talk about the…” I frowned, “Whaler.”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Piper went on. “Here’s the thing, if Colt was totally over you, he would’ve been indifferent. He’d be like oh, an old friend , or oh, wasn’t that funny when we were kids and in love? But he wasn’t like that, was he? He was all pissy, right? I mean, when we were kids, he was always so…” she scrunched her nose, trying to decide on a word, “put together. It was rather annoying at times. So seeing you today made him lose his cool and actually show emotion. That has to mean something, Mer.”

She had a point. Colt was a pro at projecting indifference. Nothing ever shook him. He’d take on the whole world with a careless shrug and lopsided grin. But that act never held up with me.

I shook my foggy head. None of that mattered now. “Why are we talking about this, Piper? Besides, you hated Colt.”

“Pshh, I hate all men. But I love you.”

“Aww,” I pulled her in for a clumsy hug. “I love you, too.”

She laughed. “I just want you to be happy, Mer. And if Colt is going to make you happy, then– ”

“I am happy!” I argued.

She gave me a knowing look. “When we were kids, that’s when we were all happy.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how everything went so wrong. I mean, I feel like I’m not even the same person. I know I’m older and everyone changes, but I used to be so determined. I used to be a cut-throat competitor, damnit.” She smacked the bar with her hand. “Now I feel weak, like I was in a fight against the world and the world won. And now I’m… ” she trailed off, noticing that I was distracted. “What? What’s wrong?”

I was still glued to her first sentence.

When we were kids.

I could picture us. All of us. My limbs went a little shaky. The bar suddenly felt way too hot, and I pulled at the top of my sweater. “When we were kids,” I repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah… and?” She arched a sharp eyebrow at me.

“Oh… oh shit,” I mumbled. “I think we might need more.” I raised my empty glass.

“What? Why?” She frowned.

“Piper…” I said warily, “has it occurred to you that wherever Colt is…” I trailed off, hoping she’d get what I was playing at.

She shook her head and held up a perfectly manicured fingernail. “No.”

“... the other two follow,” I finished with a grimace.

“Impossible,” she said. “How the hell would they be on the same team? There’s, like, fifty NHL teams, isn’t there? The last time I checked he was way up in some Canadian town.”

“When was that? They’re not rookies anymore. They probably have more choice in where they play.”

“No.” She stared at me. “No, I would've heard his name around the rink by now.”

“Would you have?” I swallowed hard. “Do you even pay attention to hockey? I didn’t even know the Whalers practiced at the Coliseum because they sneakily only use the back rink.” I paused. “Okay, let’s look him up.”

“No!” She wrangled my phone away from me.

I gasped. “Piper!” I tried to steal it back. “We have to know.”

“No, we really don’t!” Her voice went shrill with panic.

“Bartender! Sir!” I called out.

“Meredith Margot Bennett, don’t you dare–”

“Quick question,” I said to him, ignoring Piper. “Do you happen to know if-”

Piper clasped her hand over my mouth, making me shriek in shock. I struggled and finally overpowered her little arms.

The bartender looked at us like we were crazy.

“Does Richard Kappers play for–”

“The Windy City Whalers?” he finished, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Yeah. He’s right wing, on a line with the captain, The Conman. They’re expected to tear it up this year. Really hoping they take the city all the way. Can you imagine a Stanley Cup parade going on around here? It’d be electric.” He threw a cloth rag over his shoulder. “And good for business.”

Piper’s forehead hit the wooden bar with a smack.

His eyes darted to her blonde head. “Are you ladies okay?”

“It’s fine, she’s fine.” I waved him off.

“I am not fine.” When she picked her head back up, she whined, “Dick is here ?”

“Maybe you should, ya know, not call him ‘dick’ anymore.” I cringed. “He really didn’t like it.”

She gave me an exasperated look.

_______

When the bar finally closed, we wobbled out together on shaky legs.

“We’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow,” I said, already regretting my choices.

“We are,” she confirmed. “That’s why we’re staying together.”

My neck snapped over to her, then I wobbled from moving too quickly. “You’re staying over?”

“I’m not welcome?” She hiccupped. “Aren’t you living in this part of the city?” She motioned around us.

“You are,” I recovered quickly. “And yeah, I’m pretty close. It’s just… My place is not very…” I trailed off, not quite knowing how to explain it. Simply put, my place was not the same as hers. I visited her once this summer before moving here. She lived in a fancy new skyscraper apartment that overlooked Lake Michigan– and not because she made so much money ice dancing. While she had won multiple national championships and a series of other international titles, she still basically had zero dollars to her name. I suspected she made a little off of sponsorships and her social media, but she was mainly financed by her wealthy parents who wanted to help her win gold at the next Olympics. I think the only reason she started coaching this summer was because she was bored with the fact that she and Patrick were taking this upcoming competition season off.

While I couldn't afford much, I was still proud of my place and the way I’d been able to spruce it up and make it homey over the last two weeks.

We turned down my street and Piper gasped as her eyes drifted over the pristine row houses with colorful autumn trees lining the sidewalks. The street really was breathtaking… It was just my apartment that wasn’t.

“Wow, this is fancy, Mer! Maybe I should give up the road to gold and tour instead,” she said.

“No.” I snorted. “Stay on the gold road, girl.”

I led her past the row houses, and she pouted and reached back like she wanted to grab one of them. They were pretty, but living in a place like that wasn’t ever my dream like it was hers. She was a city girl through and through.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said with a chuckle. “I think my blood is starting to freeze.”

We power-walked all the way to the end of the street to a skinny brick townhouse with broken window shutters, making it slightly resemble a haunted house.

Piper skidded to a stop beside me. “Oh.”

I laughed because she hadn’t even seen the worst of it yet.

As soon as I let us inside the little rod-iron front gate, I didn’t go up to the front door. Nope. I turned and walked down a set of cracked concrete steps.

Piper gasped. “You’re joking, Mer! You do not live here.”

“I do,” I laughed. “C’mon, only the entrance looks sketch.”

“Where the hell did you find this place?” she asked, her green eyes wide with worry. “This looks like a place where people get killed!”

“It’s fine.” I waved her off. “The woman who lives in the house up there is very kind.” I thought so anyways, I couldn’t catch everything she said with her super thick Scottish accent. “And she said her grandson would be by next week to fix…” I trailed off. I didn't want to tell her that the lock wasn’t working all that well.

“Mer…” She said my name like a warning. “To fix what?”

“Nothing, it’s fine,” I chided.

As soon as we were inside, Piper’s eyes drifted over my 450-square-foot apartment that was completely gray, from the hardwood floor to the kitchen table, to the walls. But I think I did a decent job with the little fall decor touches I purchased from Hobby Lobby.

While she was busy checking out the place, I lodged a metal rod against the door so no one would be able to get in.

“Oh my God.” She whirled around to face me and dropped her big designer purse on the ground with a thud. “I saw that.”

“It’s fine,” I squeaked out.

Her forehead creased. “The lock doesn't work?”

I shrugged. “The metal rod thingy does.”

It took a full minute for her shoulders to relax. “Good thing I’ve been taking jiu jitsu.”

My eyebrows popped up. “You have?”

“Yupp. Every Sunday. I hate Sundays,” she said with a sigh.

I knew the feeling. I hated weekends because I had nothing to do with way too much time. I’d been like that since I was a kid. I loved the grind of the week at school and then at the rink. But the weekends seemed to stretch on forever. Like clockwork, I’d end up thinking myself into an existential crisis every time. There were only a few years of reprieve from that feeling because of…

Nope.

Thinking about him while this intoxicated was a recipe for disaster.

Right then, my whole apartment shook rather violently. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling and a loud rumbling sound filled my ears. An empty picture frame of mine clattered to the uneven hardwood floor.

“Earthquake!” Piper screamed. She scrambled over to me and hugged me tight, wrapping her long limbs around me.

“No,” I laughed, “it’s not. I promise.” When the shaking and rumbling finally stopped, I patted her arm. “Glad to know you’d hug me through it though.”

“What was that?” she demanded.

“A train.”

“A… train?” she said slowly.

“The subway,” I supplied.

“The L?” she asked.

“Maybe? Is that what they call it in Chicago?”

“Oh my God.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. “You live almost right under the L. How much are you paying for this place?”

I didn’t even want to tell her because it was still a lot– well, what I considered a lot, at least.

“Move in with me,” she demanded.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “No.”

“C’mon, I’m a good roomie.” Her eyes practically begged me.

“Piper,” I held her shoulders, “this is fine. I’m in my independent woman era. This is good. I made it cute, right?”

Her eyes drifted over my place again. “Yeah,” she squeaked out in a high-pitched voice, telling me she was lying.

I rolled my eyes again.

“You’re sure this place is safe, Mer? I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you. You’re so… little.”

I choked out a laugh. “Sorry not all of us can be tall Amazonian queens, P, but I think I’m scrappier than you.”

She was still hesitating.

“I haven’t died yet, have I? C’mon. You wanted to stay over,” I pointed out, going over to my closet to pull out a blow-up mattress for her. I’d offer to have her share my bed, but I only had a twin size mattress. I wanted a queen, but that would have to wait until I had a bit more money coming in.

“Okay…” She took a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s… unique. But you need to get someone to fix that lock.”

“Will do.”

After setting her mattress up, we both changed for bed– Piper had totally planned to stay over because she had a bunch of overnight stuff in her big purse, including red silky pajamas.

When Piper’s eyes drifted over my chosen PJs– a ragged, old Bauer t-shirt that hit my thighs, she looked like she was about to say something, but I cut her off by muttering “not a word.”

Because I didn’t want to admit aloud that it was Colt’s. It long ago lost his scent, a tragedy, but it was still one of the comfiest shirts I owned. And secretly, this little piece of him made me feel not so crazy; it reminded me that I didn’t fabricate our love story. It did happen. What we had was real and I wasn’t stupid for letting it impact me in such a big way. At one point, I was in love with him. And on those nights that I doubted he ever cared about me at all, this shirt proved it to me in a small way.

But now… I guess it was a little weird to be wearing something of his considering he could have a wife. Then again… this was just a piece of a memory. A piece of the boy I once knew. It meant nothing to the man I saw earlier today.

“Okay, my mouth is zipped,” Piper said, “but let it be noted that I wanted to say something about it.”

“Noted.” I smirked.

When we shut the lights and we were both tucked in bed, Piper turned to face me in the dark, her blow-up mattress squeaking with every movement.

“Hey Mer,” she said in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“Tonight was fun, right?” she asked hesitantly. I could tell she was trying to pull out all the stops tonight to convince me to stay in Chicago. Maybe because she was sick of being alone, too.

I nodded. “I’m happy you’re here,” I said with a small smile, reaching out to hold her hand.

From the way her green eyes watered, I knew she needed to hear that. Sometimes you just needed one other person on this earth to tell you that you’re wanted.

“Yeah, me too.” She sniffled. “Jeez, the alcohol made me emotional.” She fanned her face with her free hand. “This’ll be good, okay?” She squeezed my hand before letting go.

A burning lump formed in my throat, and I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d cry, so I just nodded. I wanted things to work out here so badly. I was so tired of trying to find my place in life, and I was so sick of the suffocating loneliness.

“And if anyone threatens your happiness here, I’ll throat punch them,” Piper added. “I have zero cares about how much this city loves him for his stupid hockey,” she said fiercely. “This is our city now.”

A wet laugh bubbled out of me. “Hopefully we won't run into them again,” I said.

Piper went quiet.

Lucy wouldn’t be figure skating at the Coliseum anymore, and apparently the back rink where the Whalers practiced was off-limits to the public. We wouldn't run into each other again unless we purposely tried.

Based on the pissed-off look on Colt’s face earlier today, that would never be happening again.

Deep down, I hated how much that hurt.

I sighed as I flopped on my back and stared up at the ceiling.

Before we both drifted to sleep, Piper finally said, “If that’s what you really want.”

________

A couple hours later, pain exploded in my right knee, waking me from my sleep. Flashbacks bombarded my brain while my whole kneecap felt like it was splintering into a million pieces. I immediately hid my face in my pillow to squelch my whimpering because I didn’t want to wake Piper.

It’s just old nerve pain, I told myself. You’re fine. You’re healed. Breathe. But the pain persisted.

I tried massaging my knee for what felt like a full hour before I gave in and limped into my kitchen for some painkillers.

Slowly laying back down on my side, tears slid out of my eyes and hit my pillow. I couldn't help it anymore. This day just reminded me of everything I used to have and everything I still longed for. If I tried hard enough, I could still feel the ghost of him in bed behind me, moving my hair to place a kiss at the back of my shoulder, whispering that everything would be okay, wrapping his arm around me and holding my stomach, wedging his leg between mine to fall asleep tangled up together. His presence used to surround me, ground me, make me feel safe and loved.

I could just barely remember the feeling now.

One day I'd fully forget.

And I'd drown in this empty sadness without a memory to tug me back.

No, no, no.

God. Ugh. I sniffled up my tears and wiped my face with the back of my hand. This is why I never drank alcohol. And we drank 100 dollars worth. Piper made sure of it.

Stupid Colt and his stupid $100 bet and his stupid pissed-off face.

Things will be better in the morning, I tried to tell myself. They had to be. Because I had to keep going. I couldn’t let myself be strangled by the past. I was stronger than that. I saved myself once before, I could do it again.

Eventually I drifted back to sleep, rubbing my knee and dreaming about a time when Colt was pissed off at literally everyone else in this world except for me.