Chicago wasn’t DC but it felt like she was everywhere from the new dorm life routine, to walking the streets, to getting coffee in the neighborhood. In college, we never got to know one another. The more I thought while trying to settle in, the more I missed her and yearned to hear her voice.

  Hey. I hope you’re well. Give me a call when you get a chance.

  I had been sending her apology emails throughout the spring, hoping she would come around. My divorce was being processed, but it would take months before I was legally available. There was still so much to work through. I had to lay all my cards on the table if I expected us to have a future together.

  When my phone vibrated, my body tensed with anxious anticipation. False alarm.

  Some of the school leaders from across the country were heading down to Pride and I had been added to the chat to coordinate our departure. It was our first weekend in the city and we were looking to have a good time. I plugged the phone in the bathroom and dropped it in a cup to amplify the music.

  Attending the celebration in a new city would be a good distraction from all of the uncertainty happening in my life. I laid out my Pride outfit and hopped in the shower.

  My rap karaoke was interrupted when Outkast cut off mid-verse. Peeping through the clear curtain, I could see it was Erin. Still dripping wet, I dried my hands and answered on speaker.

  “Yeah?” I said, ignoring the fact I told her to call.

  “Is that how you answer the phone?” Keeping the phone in the cup, I could finish bathing and still hear her.

  “My bad. I’m in the shower. How are you?” She called, so maybe she was ready to move forward.

  “I’m okay. Better. You asked me to call. I’m sure it wasn’t just to ask me how I’m doing.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone. I was making meaningless conversation, a tactic she normally hated.

  I turned off the water and grabbed my towel. “Nope. It is good to hear you’re doing well, though.” I was dragging out the conversation. I missed her voice. I missed her.

  “I’m in Chicago for the summer for training. You’ve never been, right?”

  “No.”

  “You should come!” I stood in my towel, admiring myself in the mirror. I had been working out and it showed.

  Asking her to visit seemed like a reasonable request, even if it was only for a weekend. “The Taste of Chicago is in a few weeks. That’d be a perfect time for you to come.” I said in an upbeat tone.

  “No,” she said simply.

  “No?” I cocked my head to the side and looked at the screen. “No?”

  “No!”

  “We could hang out like we did in Atlanta and knowing how much you love food, the Taste would be perfect. It’s over the holiday weekend, so you wouldn’t have to work.” I began pacing from the door to the window, next to the twin beds lining the wall. I had my own room, so only one of the beds was properly made. My suitcase rested on the other one.

  “You’re married. Why would I come to Chicago to sneak around like some sidepiece? I’m better than that!”

  I stopped walking. I tried to find the lie in what she said. Everything we had done together had been through deception. Her ignorance was my bliss. Was I that delusional to think she would just hop on an opportunity to come and see me?

  “But I’m getting a divorce. I’ve already filed the paperwork. I’m just waiting.” I sat on the bed and took her off of speaker phone. I didn’t want to lose her for good.

  “Peyton, getting divorced and being divorced are two different things. You’re still married and I’m not going to knowingly engage with you as long as you are. You know how I feel about marriage.”

  “I do.”

  We had had the conversation too many times before. Erin believed once you commit yourself to someone, it is forever. It was meant to be a fairytale. We had dreams of growing old together. Twice, I had tarnished that vision.

  Once upon a time before I fell in love with her, I looked at marriage as the ultimate sacrifice when you loved someone. When Terri passed, marriage became nothing more than a piece of paper to be recognized. I still believed in the fairy tale, but for people like us, it was really just a means to validate our relationship before others.

  “I know where we stand until it’s finalized. Thanks for calling me back.”

  She wasn’t coming. Deep down, I knew it was a longshot, but when had that stopped me from trying. There was still hope for us after the divorce was finalized.

  I tossed the phone to the side and finished getting dressed. The least I could do was enjoy the day and the rest of my time in Chicago in relationship limbo.

  *

  Chicago Pride was much different from New York, DC, and Atlanta. There was a major event every weekend in the month of June. We missed the parade, but the day party was in full swing when we got off the train at Addison, heading to Halsted. As suspected, the streets were filled with mostly White men. That didn’t deter our group from diving right in, dancing in the street, day drinking, and collecting free swag from pop-up shops.

  After a few hours bar hopping and partying in the blazing heat, I spotted a woman I had seen several times around campus. As we headed back to the train, we made eye contact but continued moving in opposite directions.

  I tapped Whitney’s arm, another Resident in the program, before I doubled back toward the young lady I had just passed and yelled out. “Hey, excuse me!”

  A guy she was walking with heard me and they stopped. She turned around and walked back in my direction. Her companions waited. I looked back to see mine had done the same.

  “I feel like you’re stalking me.” I said as I got closer. “I think I keep seeing you. You go to University of Chicago?”

  She smiled the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen. “I’ve seen you around. I’m on the team supporting the group you’re with.”

  “So I’m not tripping. Looks like you’ve done your research.”

  She gave me a slow head shake and bit her lip. Whitney called out we had to go so we could catch the train.

  “My bad. I’m Peyton. Can I get your number and maybe we can catch up later?”

  We exchanged phones. “Don’t act like you don’t know me when I call.”

  “Who’s to say I won’t call you first?” she flirted as she stuck my phone in my front pants pocket.

  I smiled and ran to catch up with everyone else, who had resumed walking toward the platform. Whitney chuckled shaking her head. “Weren’t you just saying how much you loved Erin?”

  After we met at orientation in Houston that spring, I ran into Whitney at a Pride party in DC over Memorial Day. When we hooked up for lunch, I told her all about Erin. We bonded over our shared experience loving women.

  “I still love her. I’m just having a little fun.” I grinned. In the short time we’d known each other, Whitney determined I had “the juice” when it came to charming people.

  I continued pleading my case. “I keep seeing her on campus and she just looks at me and smiles. I couldn’t let her pass by again and not know if she’s following me.”

  Whitney laughed hysterically.

  “I’m serious. I had an experience like that in college and it didn’t turn out well.”

  The train approached and crowds of people spilled out onto the platform. We took a seat facing one another.

  “Are you going to talk to her?” She gave me a friendly side eye.

  “I gave her my number. Erin isn’t feeling me right now, so…” I threw my hands up and shrugged. “We’ll see if she calls.”

  I wasn’t interested in anything serious with anyone other than Erin. For the first time in a long time, I was single. Sort of. It was clear no one could compete with how I felt for Erin. I would wait her out. Anyone I met in the interim would be a casualty in my pursuit to happily ever after with her.

  Two stops after we boarded the train, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out.

  “Is that her?” Whitney asked leaning forward across the aisle. I opened the message to see there were multiple texts.

  Hey.

  It’s Laila.

  Save my number. I’ll hit you when I get back on campus.

  I smiled and held the screen up. “A call. A text. Same thing.”

  *

  Laila and I made plans to meet for lunch at a little cafe near campus. We had only spoken on the phone once since we met and it resulted in a lunch date.

  “Hey!” she said, leaning in for a hug as she approached me on narrow sidewalk. I hesitated initially, not recognizing the makeover. Her once-straight hair was now curly and she had on makeup. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up on some paperwork.”

  “No worries,” I said, suppressing my amusement with her unexpected changes. Maybe this was a real date and I missed the memo.

  We made our way upstairs to the outdoor patio on the roof, an unassuming space from street level. I immediately launched into the “get to know you” interview all dates include.

  “How long have you dated women?” I asked, getting straight to the point. I made it my mission not to experiment with straight women. They may have been entertaining, but women who identified as straight were more emotional after sex and had a tendency to become obsessed. I wasn’t about that life.

  “Since birth. I wouldn’t consider myself gay, though.”

  “So bisexual?”

  I was obsessed with a label. Laila needed to fit into a category in my mind. Erin had been steadfast in not being labeled and look at where that had gotten me. Boxes made things less messy.

  “I like who I like. And right now, I’m feeling you.” She cast a flirtatious smile and leaned back in her chair.

  I nervously took a sip of water. I felt like she had just run game on me, and I liked it. We played “get to know you” for as long as we could before I noticed it was almost time for my next class.

  “I may grab a drink later if you’re free after work.” I reached for the receipt to pay, but she snatched it up before I could.

  “I asked you to lunch, so I’ll take care of this.” She waved the receipt in her hand.

  I gave a nod of concession. There was a synergy between us that felt familiar and exciting. This must be what rebounding feels like.

  We descended the staircase to the exit quickly. Looking down at my watch, it was ten minutes to one and I couldn’t be late. The streets were less crowded than before so running in my Cole Hans wouldn’t be a difficult task.

  “Are you going to take me up on my offer for later?” I gripped my backpack straps tightly as I back peddled away from her in the opposite direction.

  “Call me when you’re done and we’ll go from there,” she said, pivoting away and blending into the small crowd. I turned around and hauled ass down the street.

  *

  Laila was young and fun. Her nonchalant attitude was rejuvenating given all of the bullshit I had going on. Neither of us were looking for love in each other, but we had an undeniable vibe.

  After drinks, I walked her back to her studio a few blocks away from campus. There were few cars on our route which made the commute all the more enjoyable. The gothic architecture on campus was lit up, adding a scenic backdrop to our stroll.

  The conversation continued inside as the night grew later and later. The next day was Saturday, but I had plans for an early morning workout with Whitney. Around two thirty, I excused myself to the restroom in preparation to head out. When I returned, she was standing in front of her closet.

  “Can you help me with my necklace?” Laila asked, scooping her hair to the side and making way for me to access the clasp. She turned slowly as the necklace fell into her hand. Sin was starting to become my friend. There was Kelley. And Erin. And now this.

  As I turned to leave and thank her for the night, she pulled me into an embrace and we kissed. There was a sweet taste of whiskey on her mouth as she pulled my shirt over my head. Her dress plunged from her shoulders to the floor as we made our way to the bed. I had never been overtaken like that before. It was both thrilling and alarming. As a masculine woman, I wasn’t sure this was supposed to be happening, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop it.

  *

  “Good morning!” Laila was sitting across the room on the couch typing. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  My head was pounding. The sun shone through the openings of the blinds next to the bed. I noticed my shirt was on backward and I had on underwear I know wasn’t there last night.

  “Nah. I hope my snoring didn’t bother you too much.” I found my pants and pulled them on. I had never engaged in a one night stand. I wasn’t sure of the protocol, but I knew I needed to get out of there. This was not what I had in mind for enjoying my time in Chicago.

  I grabbed my phone from the coffee table where Laila sat. It was seven thirty. I needed coffee, water, and Advil.

  “It’s cool. I needed to get up for work anyway.” She continued typing, never looking up.

  Her hair was pulled up into a clip. From what I could see she only had on a long t-shirt, which was draped over her folded legs. Finally, she looked up from her computer.

  “You leaving already?”

  “Yeah. I need to head out.” A shyness I’d never experienced came over me. “Thank you for last night. I enjoyed myself.” I fumbled with my phone as she stood to walk me to the door.

  “I had fun, too. I hope to see more of you while you’re here.” She bit her lip as I stood in the doorway.

  “I’m sure you will.”

  The walk back to campus was eerily quiet for a Saturday morning. I replayed the night in my mind. How did that escalate so quickly? Not only had I slept with a complete stranger, I had done so after an argument with Erin about the sanctity of marriage.

  Maybe that was exactly what I needed. I was constantly going from woman to woman, flailing in love to meet a need only Erin seemed to master. I wasn’t looking for that with Laila. Hell, I wasn’t looking for anything last night other than drinks and I walked away with a renewed sense of self.

  *

  Throughout the remaining weeks in Chicago, Laila would be my release. The time we spent together reminded me of my summer of love with Erin, without the love.

  I learned more about myself with her than I had learned in my short lifetime about love, sex, and what it meant to live fully in the present. My summer with her was the unplanned step I needed to get back on track in my pursuit of forever.

  twenty-one.

  Somehow, I knew posting a picture of Laila and me on social media would later bite me in the ass. She and I remained in touch after I left Chicago. We had gone to a Cubs game after a Saturday class with some of the people in my cohort. Wrigley Field was a site to behold. The old iron clad stadium sat in the middle of the city but felt miles away from where we had spent the summer learning.

  I commemorated the trip to one of the country’s oldest baseball stadiums the same way I had the entire summer: by posting a series of pictures on Instagram. I had no idea Erin would be checking up on me after our last conversation.

  Once the program ended in late July and I was back in my new home in Memphis, I did my best to keep myself busy. Although opening a new school was a lot of work, this was the first time I didn’t have someone to share in the experience with at the end of each day. Kelley had nothing to say to me. Laila was in Chicago. Erin was in DC. And I was lonely. So I did what I do best when I felt empty: I grabbed my phone.

  I’m home. Since you wouldn’t come to Chicago, maybe you’ll come see me here.

  After two days, Erin still had not responded to my message. I called, but there was no answer. At the time I didn’t know if she was giving me the cold shoulder or if something had happened to her. I had never met any of her family and I didn’t want to reach out to Shan, like I had years before, for fear Erin would never speak to me again. I was at an impasse. The school year was starting in the next week and traveling to DC was not in my best interest just to check on her given our history. I sent an email and a text then went for a run to occupy my mind.

  Later that evening while working on last minute details for the first day of school, I returned to my phone. There was finally another message.

  Leave me alone. You have more than enough women to occupy your time.

  I belted out a chuckle which echoed through my empty apartment. That was a low blow and not something I would have ever expected her to say. It took a while before I was able to figure out where she would concoct such an outrageous allegation before I settled on social media. While her assumption was accurate, in part, if I wanted anyone else, I wouldn’t have reached out to her in the first place.

  We need to talk. Let me know when you’re available.

  I pulled an “Erin” on her. She was always sending me cryptic messages when she wanted to have a serious talk and needed my undivided attention. We would tell one another “Don’t multi-task me” when either of us was trying to do something important and the other one was talking.

  Although Erin hadn’t come to visit me while I was at training, I thought we would return to our regularly coordinated trips. Now Kelley and I weren’t sharing a household, I wanted Erin to come and see me for once. My schedule would be busy, but if she was willing to make it work, I would do whatever it took. Despite all we had put one another through, I still felt as smitten as I was the first time we met. She was my soulmate, and though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, or anyone else for that matter, I was hers.

  *

  On the forty-minute commute home from work the next day, Beyonce’s Lemonade was interrupted by Erin’s name appearing on my car display.