Many Million Dreams Ago • Ch. 7 of 10
The Chapter’s Song:
I arrived in Chicago during summer. My friend and I drove all of my furniture across state lines with a rental and a good array of songs blasting from the truck speakers.
“Let’s go through the Loop—,” I said once we got into downtown. Driving on Michigan Avenue during the warmer months was like having front-row tickets to the latest fashion shows. Colors popped and blended together on skirts, shirts, and dress-suits alike. Men and women flaunted their good looks and better fashion senses all while enjoying their favorite lattes from the multitude of coffee shops lining the Magnificent Mile. Everyone was on the move. Nobody stood still for longer than a few seconds at a time—, either to take pictures or hail a taxicab. There were too many places to go and get lost in. So many shops and sights and side-streets—, one didn’t know where they should go first.
Further north through the Gold Coast we went and couldn’t help but people-watch as they walked by in groups of two or three. All wore glittering jewelry and were draped in expensive clothes to match. The townhomes were nestled behind rows of lush trees and greenery, elaborate gates guarded the front doors, and the unmistakeable scent of old money made its way through the atmosphere above.
After I’d gotten comfortable with the new streets and had lived in my neighborhood for a while—, I began seeing things with a different set of eyes. The people all had the same look splashed across their faces; excitement. A deep feeling that everything happening was fate making its mark on everyone’s lives took hold. Whether or not I still held out hope for a bright future before I’d arrived was nullified once I’d become accustomed to my new surroundings. I noticed what heels the blonde across the street was wearing, what blazer the brunette crossing paths with me had on, what everyone wore with pride—, to see and be seen. Maybe it was competition or just for plain attention—, regardless of the reasons, everyone looked wonderful in their own personal ways.
The city was alive. It was a type of liveliness I hadn’t experienced back in my old home for quite a while. Everywhere I’d look, I’d see it; the same sort of energy bursting through the people crowding the streets. Through the windows of restaurants and cafés—, there were first dates happening, business meetings being held, and solo diners that were on quick lunch breaks before heading back off to work. Through the windows of moving L-trains rushing by—, there were parents trying to maintain order over their families, a million single people who were searching for their next great love, and homeless sleepers taking up two or more seats at a time. Through the windows of tall high-rises from above—, there were young professionals trying to keep up with the stress of success, mature adults who were retiring and just wanted to live out their golden years in peace, and first-time city dwellers, like myself, trying to find themselves in the constant bustle of everyday life. Everything and everyone intermingled with each other. It was a thing of beauty and personal bliss as I walked by different stores, shops, and buildings of all types.
I started paying more attention to my movements, my way of speaking, and my mannerisms overall. I began dressing better, looking people in the eyes when I spoke, holding my head up high as I walked. This was finally my chance at ultimate reinvention. To recreate what the past near-decade had taken away from me; more amazing memories, more meaningful moments, and a higher sense of self-esteem that seemed to all but burst through the ceiling.
Picking up a job at a local shoe store right up the street—, I began meeting more people than ever before in my life. Crowds bustled in and out of the show-room which I’d stand in for hours and wait on different kinds of customers. There were the preppy yuppies, the above-it-all hipsters, and the old school businessmen who just wanted a new pair of wingtip slip-ons. Coming into contact with so many different types of personalities within a given week made me confront some of my own characteristics. Why was it that it took moving into a new city to finally break out of my self-loathsome shell of so many years? Why did I have to wait so long to leave behind all of the bad habits and broken dreams of yesterday? For the first time in quite a while—, I actually liked who I was becoming and I couldn’t help but wonder why it’d taken such a drastic move to make it happen.
I’d lived in the city for nearly half a year when I first saw her looking through the windows of a small seafood restaurant close by my building. She must’ve noticed me walking down the street towards her because as she looked up, I saw the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. I nodded out of sheer reflex.
“Hi—!,” she said with absolute enthusiasm. It was like we’d already known each other for ages. I couldn’t resist.
“Hi—,” I said back in my own way. I passed her by and couldn’t get her smile out of my head for the rest of the night. Not two days later, I was coming back home from work and was waiting on the elevator to take me up to my floor. As the doors slowly opened, I entered and she quickly walked in after me, the smile as wide as I’d remembered it. No way she lives in the same building, I immediately thought. She didn’t recognize me but I knew I had to say something now or else I’d regret it for good. I noticed her yellow patent leather purse and figured that’d work.
“Cute purse.”
“Oh yeah?—, thanks!,” she happily replied. “Cute scarf!”
“Thank you—,” I said before taking my shot. “Can I just tell you—, you have the most beautiful smile.” Her eyes grew. The elevator reached the fourth floor and off I went on my way, excited that I’d made some type of move towards getting to know her better. She’d tell me months afterwards how she called her mom later on that night and was promptly told;
“You should date him.” She’d eventually go on to take her mother’s advice.
I’d bought a brand new orange sunburst acoustic guitar from a local music shop a couple of weeks back with money I’d saved up from my job. I played it everyday and was just getting used to the fretboard and developing new callouses on my fingertips when she first called up. We chatted about this and that, but all the while, I knew I had to make the most of what time I was allotted.
“Let’s have dinner this weekend,” I suddenly suggested.
“Sounds great,” she said. I knew I didn’t have enough money to take her out to the type of place a first date with such a stunning woman required—, so back to the music shop I went to return my new guitar.
A couple of days passed by before our date came around. I began getting ready for the evening—, a long shower, groomed hair, and my Sinatra playlist on repeat. I was letting my mind wander off into all the different possibilities the night may have in store for us. What should I wear? What am I going to talk about? Hair spiked or flat? This date was actually making me nervous for the first time in a long while—, and I enjoyed it. I put on a freshly dry-cleaned burgundy shirt with deep grey dress pants and blue suede ankle-boots. Looking into the full-length mirror in my hallway, I was admiring my selection of clothes when suddenly—, a knock at the door. I opened it up and there she stood—, radiant in her long dress with black wedges on.
“Can you help me with something?,” she immediately asked. She turned around with her back to me and there was her dress—, undone and almost ready to fall off her shoulders. “Could you zip me up?,” she said coyly while holding her hair.
“Of course,” I replied, using one hand to hold the top in place while carefully zipping her up with the other. She spun back around to face me with her splendid smile—, like I’d just passed my very first boyfriend-test.
“Thanks—,” she said, and with that, we were ready to leave and let fate take over.
We walked into the elevator and pushed the button to the ground floor. Right before the door opened back up, she slid her arm in-between mine and my body, clutching it like we’d already been dating for some time. We slowly walked through the lobby and let all the strangers see us in our magnificent state—, cleaned up and ready for all the city had to offer.
We’d planned on having dinner at an upscale place specializing in fondue dishes. After the short cab ride over, we entered the dimly-lit atmosphere of the restaurant and the hostess took us to our seats—, right by a window facing the winter wonderland outside. Snow and frost covered the glass while we sat inside by a single candle dancing atop the table. We looked around the room while trying to sneak stares at each other but we’d catch them every so often and make quick eye-contact. She finally broke the silence.
“So tell me about yourself,” she said. I looked down and tried my best to hide the personal disappointment I felt with its air of regret still following me around so many years later.
“I don't know—, I don’t want it to change the way you look at me,” I earnestly said, deeply staring into her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “my past isn’t perfect either.” We went on to compare broken dreams, broken hearts, and heavy situations we’d both gone through at different stages of our lives.
“I almost wanted to end it all a long time ago—,” I opened up.
“Me too,” she replied. I suddenly felt a strange new admiration towards her—, like we’d both tackled the same shadows on our roads to finding one another and now the two kindred spirits were finally united over dinner in a busy corner of a bustling city.
“What made you change your mind?,” I asked, knowing I was getting into something much more personal than simply small-talk.
“A Frappuccino.” I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, unable to hide the fact that I wanted to know more about the story. “It’s true...,” she continued, “I was at the lowest point of my life and just before everything was to happen, I found myself in a bookstore coffeeshop. The barista behind the counter could see the desperation on my face—, so he gave me a Frappuccino for free and said it was to cheer me up.”
“And it did—,” I interjected.
“And it did—,” she agreed. How much weight can a small gesture have that reinstates someone’s hope in humanity? My date was a prime example of just that—, and my heart went out to her so much more for it. “How about you?,” she followed-up.
“Oh—, it just wasn’t meant to be,” I said. “The Universe wouldn’t allow it I guess.” For the first time in eight years, I’d spoken those words aloud and I’d never been more grateful that my story as well as her own had ended up the way they did. We’d crossed paths not by accident, but perhaps to nurture our broken hearts back together again, knowing exactly what types of places we’d both come from.
We stayed a little while longer—, people-watching and letting our minds wander off into different places. There were so many separate dates happening all around us at the same time. I wondered if they too, talked about the deeper things which my own date and I had just gotten into. If they’d dug into the softest, most vulnerable places of another person’s being and still come out the other end infatuated and in love. It didn’t make sense to wear such thickened masks on a first outing—, sooner or later, they’d too come off and reveal a much more beautiful face waiting underneath.
Finally exiting the restaurant, snow had begun falling from the sky in large, puffy flakes. We stayed underneath a lamppost, waiting for the next taxicab to drive by. We were encircled by tiny, white shapes that glistened from the street light above us. What a gorgeous night to be in the city with such a beauty by my side, I thought to myself.
Eventually, we arrived back to my place and as soon as we got in through the door, we were completely lip-locked. From spot to spot, we stayed in step with one another until reaching the bed. She began unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my clothes. Slowly, she made her way downward towards the floor—, and slowly, I brought her back up.
“Well this is different,” she said with a surprised look.
“Let’s—, not rush,” I sincerely said. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to those places with her, it’s that I wanted it to be memorable. I liked her—, a lot. I could tell things would be getting to that stage sooner or later anyway, so I wanted to relish the moments we’d still have together, finding out more about each other and taking our time to build up to that level. We kept kissing but that was about it. Finally, we laid down next to one another on my bed’s blanket and continued to bask in each other’s warmth for a while afterwards. She was running her hand through my hair when she focused in on my eyes from the side and gave me a long, loving look.
“So what are we anyway?,” she finally let herself ask. I didn’t say anything for a minute. I just let my mind wander off, find, and grab hold of that word for a third time on its own; Lover—, I’ve been waiting for you.