Twenty-Six

When Claire set off the following morning for New York City, it was with only the smallest amount of hope that the day held anything positive in store for her. Over shared cups of coffee in the early morning, her mom and Alison had both reminded her that anything could happen that day. She hadn’t told them her fears about Bianca and Velvet Leaf Publishing, of course, unwilling to face the possibility of professional and financial failure, but since they already knew about Jack, it felt safe to direct her concerns towards him.

“It’s like one of your stories, Claire, isn’t it?” Alison asked, earning her an eyebrow raise in response.

“Why would you say that, Alison? You haven’t read one of them, have you?” The meeting at the Empire State Building, apart from being a classic scene in Sleepless in Seattle, had also figured heavily in Moonlit Melodies, but she didn’t expect her older sister to know that.

Alison rolled her eyes at Claire. “Of course I have. I’ve got the whole collection in my office, including all the special edition covers. Why wouldn’t I?”

If Claire had been surprised to learn that Jack’s sister was a fan of her work, that didn’t remotely compare to the shock she experienced upon learning her own sister was. “Really?” she asked, shaking her head. “But I’ve never—”

“Never seen my office? Never seen me reading one of your books?” Alison pursed her lips and shrugged. “Can’t all of these things be explained by us being bad sisters for the last, oh…ten years? But now that part is behind us, so catch up.”

Laura’s smile stretched wide as she wrapped her hands around her mug, warming them. “You two have no idea how happy it makes me to see the two of you talking and getting along like this. It’s what I’ve wished for for Christmas for a very long time.”

Claire leaned her head onto her mom’s shoulder as Alison patted her knee. “I’m sorry it took us this long, Mom.”

“You raised some stubborn kids,” Alison agreed, “but now that we’ve cleared the air, we can be stubborn about the right things. Not letting each other go. Things like that.”

“Alison is even being stubborn about making me keep the faith that Jack is going to show up today,” said Claire, immediately wanting to kick herself for bringing the topic back around to him. She was like a teenager with a crush, somehow able to make every topic relate back to the thing—person—she really wanted to talk about.

“He’ll be there,” said Alison with a confidence that made both Claire and Laura sit up and take notice.

“How do you know?” Claire asked, her voice quiet enough that she was surprised the other women heard it.

“I just do.” Alison was nodding. “Now go get ready and get out of here. You can’t be late.”

Claire had taken the PATH train into the city, not wanting to navigate traffic or parking on the day after Christmas. Thanks to Alison’s urging, she had left with plenty of time to enjoy the journey rather than wishing it would go by more quickly and working herself up into an anxious later.

There was a lingering festive mood in the nearly empty train car. Even though the anticipation of Christmas was gone, her fellow travelers hadn’t yet taken on the bland gray mood and attire of late January in the city, when the short days and endless cold has taken its toll on the collective psyche. She spied a festive sweater across the car and a pair of bauble earrings on a passenger near the door. They were holding on to the holiday spirit a little longer, extending it at least until the new year. 

It was one of the best weeks of the year, one of Claire’s favorites when she wasn’t carrying the burden of work stress and an uncertain future. Time stretched, expanding and contracting in the days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve in a way that made her lose all sense of time. Pajamas for days on end? The perfect attire. Leftover pie for breakfast and gravy on everything? Why not?

It was also one of the rare times in the winter that she was willing to leave the house when it was dark out, something that happened at a shockingly early hour. She would venture out after five o’clock for a holiday party or to meet friends in the city for drinks within view of Christmas lights, carols playing on the sound system. But ask her to a happy hour in January and you could just get ready for any one of Claire Davis’s patented excuses.

As Claire surveyed the expressions of her fellow passengers, noting an unusually high proportion of smiles for public transportation—had Santa Claus brought all of these people just what they had wanted, or what?—she let her mind wander to her impending meeting with Jack.

Because, for the first time since their farewell at the Newark airport, she was letting herself believe that he was going to be there. Sure, his lack of communication didn’t exactly bode well for what was about to happen. But Claire was willing to entertain the possibility—thanks to a stern reminder from Alison just as she slipped out the door—that not everything was about her. Jack may have been so busy helping his family with Christmas dinner and counseling his sister about her relationship troubles that, truly, all he had had time for was one tap on the screen of his phone.

Claire smiled to herself as the subway pulled into the 33rd Street station. She didn’t need to do the mental gymnastics of figuring out where Jack had been and what had been keeping him busy…she would hear it all from him soon enough.

She checked the time on her phone as she walked back up to street level, noting that she was early for her meeting with Jack. She took a deep breath as she stepped away from the stairs and let the energy of the city wash over her. The feel of being back after being away for an extended period of time always took her breath away. New York City was always alive with an energy that no other place she had visited had been able to match. 

As much as there was a part of Claire that wanted to retreat to the countryside and live in a gingerbread house—what was she, a witch from a children’s fairy tale?—she loved New York too much to imagine leaving. More even than the cozy living room of her parents’ house, this felt like home. She couldn’t wait to get back to her apartment, to settle in for her winter hibernation surrounded by the lights and sounds of a city that truly never slept.

Or rather, she could wait. Because there were a couple of very important meetings between her and unlocking the door of her apartment. She stopped at a Starbucks on the corner to grab a coffee to give her something to do and keep her hands warm while she waited for Jack, and then she made her way to the Empire State Building.

The line was short, and she was waiting for the next elevator well before she had expected to be. A family waiting in front of her brought a smile to her face, noting the tired eyes of the parents who were leaning on each other for support and the two young ones who were playing peekaboo around their parents’ legs. It was the holiday spirit encapsulated in one scene—the energy and newness of childhood and the sheer exhaustion of the adults who had worked to bring it all to life. Claire imagined the afternoon ahead of them, hoping it would contain a nap for all four of them.

When it was her turn to take the elevator up to the observation deck, she tucked herself into the back corner, continuing to observe the young family and the rest of her fellow travelers. It was still too early to be looking around for Jack, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy some quality people-watching with her caffeine. The joy and wonder surrounding her—she would guess the crowd visiting the Empire State Building over the holiday season had to be almost entirely tourists, very few locals opting to see the sights from 102 floors up the day after Christmas—were infectious and by the time she got out of the elevator she had a permanent smile fixed to her face.

Claire found a quiet spot with a nice view of Central Park to wait for Jack, just a short walk from the elevator. Should she text him and let him know where she was, or would that spoil the serendipity of it all? She leaned against the glass, sipped her drink, and continued to survey her surroundings. From this high up, she could almost imagine the city was quiet down below, had she not known the truth. But from her current vantage point, she was definitely experiencing the reality check of just how big her problems—or anything else happening at street level—really were. 

From the observation deck, people down below were smaller than ants, and as she watched a few of those ants cross streets and enter buildings, it was almost a spiritual experience to imagine seeing herself down there, too small and too far away to discern even one of her features. Her fears and the worries that creased her forehead and turned her stomach didn’t translate to the observation deck.

She wished Jack were there already, knowing he would be amused by the thoughts she was having and would surely have an interesting addition to make, or at least a joke that would make her chuckle.

Claire checked the time again as she found a trash can to deposit her empty cup into. Her stomach dropped with disappointment at the awareness that he was late. Sure, it was only two minutes, but the fact that she wasn’t a high enough priority for him to be on time threatened to tank her festive mood.

That was before she reminded herself that not everything was about her. Maybe Jack was in line for the elevator right now. Or maybe he was two blocks away, stuck in traffic. A glance out the window at the relatively empty streets told her that the second option was unlikely, but she forced her chin up, regardless. She would have her answer soon. She couldn’t wait long, after all, given that she had scheduled a meeting with Bianca just half an hour after she had been supposed to meet Jack.

Claire saw the young family from the lobby making their way back to the bank of elevators, and she felt resignation wash over her, a sort of sad acceptance. If she had been there long enough for the family to see all they wanted to see, she had been there long enough for Jack to make his appearance.

And he hadn’t.

It wasn’t the truth she wanted to accept, but it was the truth she was confronted by. Jack wasn’t here, and there was no indication that he was even on his way. The phone worked both ways after all, and as she checked the screen of hers again to confirm that it was time to leave to meet Bianca, she also confirmed that Jack hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t given so much as a sign of life.

He wasn’t coming, and she already knew she wouldn’t try again to arrange a meeting. She had made the effort this time, and considering how apathetic his response had been, she wouldn’t expose herself to that rejection again.

As Claire made one final circuit around the observation deck, taking in the view from all angles one last time, she felt an odd peace wash over her, mingling with her disappointment to create a bittersweet ache that couldn’t quite me named.

Her heart was hurting, but she was still proud of herself for opening it up.

A potential love had turned out to be less than she had hoped…and yet she knew these feelings would turn into art. She would alchemize this pain, this loss, maybe not right away—the last thing she felt like doing today was sitting down in front of her keyboard—but someday soon, she would pour them into her next book. 

She was richer for having known Jack, both as a woman who had opened herself up to believe in a man’s potential and as a writer of love stories who rarely let herself experience them away from the safety of her word processing software. And if she had learned anything from the countless stories she had written, it was that pain always catalyzed growth and ultimately made the main character stronger. Strength and vulnerability weren’t polarities that couldn’t coexist; one was essential for the other.

Claire pulled her coat tighter against the cold as she approached the bank of elevators, feeling like a main character. Like even if she was in pain now, this pain was going to have a purpose. Because in the end, it wasn’t about Jack at all. As much as it disappointed her, he had revealed today that he wasn’t a fellow main character whose job was to sweep her off her feet and into the next chapter of life. He had been a supporting character and nothing more, someone who reveals a truth the main character is missing, who helps her find her way ahead in the story but never reappears.

She had gotten him wrong, as it turned out. Seen main character energy in his smile, in the way he looked at her. But she wanted to believe, had to believe, that if Jack hadn’t been “the one,” then she couldn’t even begin to fathom how much more magnetic, more magical the actual one would have to be.

Claire sighed as she stepped into the elevator. She wanted so desperately to believe that nice adage she had heard so many times before, that if things didn’t work out, it was because something better was on its way. But two things could be true at the same time: she could be hopeful for her future happiness and yet disappointed right down to the core of her being that Jack hadn’t shown up today. That the two of them had clearly valued what had happened between them in Munich so differently.

She had thought they were on the same page, that the connection she felt to him was mutual and would survive the flight back to the US unscathed. Even with all the doubts she had experienced in the past days, she hadn’t let go of the hope that she was reading it all wrong. That just because he wasn’t communicating with her didn’t mean he wasn’t chomping at the bit to see her again.

With every floor lower that the elevator traveled, Claire felt herself coming back to earth. She was gathering strength, leaving behind the dreamer that had waited in the cold of the observation deck for her own sweet reunion, complete with a soaring soundtrack and slow motion running into an embrace. Disappointment was one of the unfortunate uncertainties of life, and she would get through it. Just because it hurt more than any other recent disappointment didn’t mean she couldn’t weather it.

As the elevator arrived in the lobby, Claire waited for the crowd—as the sun rose higher in the sky and melted off a little of the chill in the air, the building had become more popular—to clear. She stepped out the door, pulling her scarf a little higher on her neck and lifting her hand to hail a cab.

Before her hand was even high enough, a yellow taxi pulled over in front of the Empire State Building, screeching to a halt. Wow, she thought, are things already looking up or what? Did I just manifest a taxi?

The back door of the vehicle opened, and a very familiar man rushed out, almost bumping over her in his hurry to get to the building.

“Jack?” she called, one hand still on the door of the taxi while the other pulled her scarf down from her face. “You came?”