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else’s opinion of me was their problem, not
mine. But the moment my back was pushed against a wall, my inner teenager crept
up and said, “ Remember me? ”
    Every time I
felt insecure about anything, I reverted to that girl. I had empathy for her,
even if I wasn’t her any longer. Deep down, I was still reclusive and introverted
by nature; I just worked my ass off pretending that I wasn’t. And I was still
insecure; I just didn’t let it show anymore. I'd dreaded every day at school
because I feared what someone might say to me about my clothes, my hair, or my
overwhelming shyness. I was bullied unremittingly for five years, and while it
was over a decade ago, the pain hadn’t fully dissipated. I doubted that it ever
would, but I'd found a way to make peace with it and was convinced that the
experience had made me a more tolerant and accepting person. But my remnants of
self-doubt had historically led to poor decision-making from time to time.
             Thinking
of all this, I watched Jenna pay for her vintage cocktail ring, and I shelled
out two hundred dollars for a pair of J Brand jeans. We headed to Union for
mimosas. Union was our weekly brunch locale, specifically chosen so that that
Jenna could half-heartedly watch the basketball game among her favorite group,
the gay crowd. I’d never been a sports fan, but living in Columbus made it
impossible to completely avoid the Buckeyes. To compromise I included shopping
and girl time into game days. Union was only two blocks from the boutiques,
another reason we chose it week after week.
    It was another
frigid day outside, but I didn’t mind; I was one of the few people I knew who
liked the cold. My grandmother had always said that I should be happy no matter
the climate I found myself in. She said that who I was with was more important
than where I lived. In retrospect, she was probably attempting to prevent any
of her grandchildren from trying to move away to somewhere warmer. Her words
stayed with me, though, because when the leaves changed color and snow began to
fall, my energy was renewed. Christmas was the happiest time in my house when I
was growing up, and it meant two weeks away from the mean girls at school. Now
as an adult, I still loved the holidays and went right on enjoying the chilly
weather long after they ended.

 
    Nearly a week
after our shopping trip, I found myself chained to my desk for hours on end
clawing my way through a pile of e-mails. Maureen and I were buried from the
busy event schedule, but the paychecks helped soften the blow of being stuck at
the office. As I hit send on an e-mail confirming the entrées for an insurance
company’s dinner for twenty-five people, I heard my cell phone buzz in my desk
drawer. Robotically, I reached for it without looking away from my desktop.
    When I finally
glanced at the screen, I read, Elle, I’m
so sorry I didn’t call you that night. I misplaced your card. Instantly, my
mind went to Jay Conrad. I didn’t have any other clients that I’d given my cell
number to recently, or any who had so deliberately blown me off. It had to have
been him.
    Who is this? I typed back, trying to seem as if I hadn’t been waiting to hear from
him.
             It’s
Jay. We met a couple weeks ago ,
he wrote, confirming what I’d hoped was true.
             Oh, right. How was the rest of your trip?
             It was okay. Would have been better if I had
been able to have a drink with you, though.
             I
blushed in complete astonishment that he’d reached out to me at all, let alone
suggested that we should have had drinks together.
             Well, you live and you learn .
    That’s the truth. So, you ever make it out to New
York?
             I’ve been a few times before, but not
recently. I felt very uncool.
             Well, maybe we can change that. I should
have asked you out when we met. I guess I choked. I really feel bad about it. I
want to