Distant Hearts
A Surprise
You're in Chicago and you have no clue what prompted you to come – apart from the new Mrs. Seth Cohen dropping subtle hints all over your answering machine. Summer had called five times since the two were on their month-long honeymoon, ending each message with an address. Her address.
The airport is crowded and you expect nothing less from O'Hare but it's even too crowded for you. Maybe it had something to do with the 4th of July being this weekend, you don't know nor do you care. It takes you back to the day after she first left – when your best friend, the one who you constantly tease and call Mr. Summer Roberts, actually discouraged you from flying right after her. At that moment in time, you hated his idea but agreed with him anyways because he was persistent, he was right and he was Seth. Now you realize that you should've stuck with his advice even now, despite his bride's not-so-subtle hints.
You look at people running left and right, trying to get the right luggage off the go around and you're thankful that Kirsten gave you the brightest bag of Seth's that she could find. You pick up the bright orange duffle bag and try to think of what Seth actually needed this for in the first place and then glance down at the address in your hand. You're nervous and scared all at the same time, still wondering why you had decided to take a vacation now and to Chicago of all places.
The next thing you know you're in a yellow taxi complete with an odor that you don't know what to know what it is and a less than happy driver. He's driving you back downtown, to your hotel which just happens to be not two blocks from her apartment. And you discover this moments after you walk into the lobby and the concierge is more than willing to help you with anything. You instantly think that this guy, with the fake Italian accent, needs another job but are informed minutes later by the bellhop that he's constantly like that and just really loves his job.
Once you're in your hotel room, the first thing that you do is ask yourself aloud what you're doing and consider checking yourself into a mental facility just to make sure you're not insane. You feel your eyes grow heavy and before you know it, you're asleep and the first person you see in your dreams is her. Ever since the wedding and the warning before from Summer, you haven't been able to do much of anything else but think of what might've been and the what-ifs that popped in your head. You're an architect for an international company and you can't finish that one job because of a girl…a beautiful girl who has your stomach filled with more butterflies and bats than you've had in a long time.
Your eyes open slowly as your stomach worsens, turning into more knots and you catch the red numbers of the clock staring back at you. You didn't actually sleep that long, yet you're still tired…but not from travel. More from emotions than anything else. Seven years….seven long years filled with some amazing and not so amazing adventures. And yet all you can think about is what if she had been a part of them and then your mind drifts to the ultimate question of the day – what the hell is she going to think when you show up at her door? That was the whole point of the trip, wasn't it?
You sit up, not sure if you should eat, shower of just up and go to her, but you decide on a shower first. The warm water will wake you up and make you smell better when you see her again. It runs down your back and it finally hits you – what are you actually going to say? You're not a spur of the moment type of guy – okay, you are, but this is completely different. This is her and you and Chicago. Yeah, you think in your mind as you step out of the shower, this is completely different.
But that doesn't stop you, does it? Now you're out of your suite, pushing your way through the revolving door and gazing out onto the streets of Chicago. While she was in Newport, you, among the others, heard the stories of the city and warned about her neighbors who were new parents and not getting any better at it the second time around. You remember laughing at them and listening to her, watching her lips curve into a smile everytime she mentioned a small girl named Sara, even with Summer adding tiny tidbits in every now and then.
You're in her building, thanks to an older man who was kind enough to let you slide after you explained a fake story about a surprise visit to your sister and her family. It was a lie but you don't care. It got you in and that's what you were going for. Apartment #835 is etched in your brain now…at least the number was and you were now standing right in front of it.
You clear your throat, thinking to yourself that this should be the easy part. You were always good at this part – but again, this was different. She was different. She wasn't like the others you had dated. Given, it had been a while since you'd been out there dating on a regular basis, but still. This is the easy part, Ryan, you say to yourself aloud, unaware that the previously mentioned neighbor had just poked his head out of his own apartment door.
You nod your head as he goes back in and take a deep breath, letting your clenched fist lean up against her door, trying to get back into that old character you once had. The one that approached girls with ease and asking them silly questions and taking them out and wooing them was easy. You finally knock softly, hoping for just a moment that she doesn't answer and that when Summer asks you what you did while they were on their honeymoon, you can lie and tell her that you finished that big job that your boss is on your case for and that'd be that. But you'd still be hoping that she would've answered her door and you'd be singing a different tune.
She answers, much to your delight and stands silent when her amber eyes catch your own. Suddenly, that speech that you had written in your head on the way over her, isn't enough and the words get lost in the zillion thoughts that are running through your mind now. She's beautiful, you think, even with her hair up in a messy ponytail, three pencils in it, a SHeDaisy tee-shirt and jeans that look like they've been worn one too many times – she's beautiful and you want to tell her, but don't want to scare her so that she slams the door back in your face.
Hey, you say, knowing how dumb that must've sounded to both you and her. I was going to go with I was in the neighborhood line, but you'd see right through that. The charm is slowly coming back and you know it's because she smiled at you. You'd be right, she answers and then lets you all the way into her home. And it's at this moment in time that you realize you were never really over her – especially if, seven years after you first spilled the scolding coffee on her in the high school lounge, you're still thinking about that moment and wanting to relive it over someway, somehow, but without the spilling of the scolding liquid all over her. It's at this moment in time, you realize that you like Chicago.
