Tightrope

3

NOW

BECCA

Coffee, milk, eggs, bread, a couple of steaks, fish, and pasta. Some bottles of wine, cheese, and chips. Veggies (not lettuce), and fruit (not strawberries). 

That was all I needed from the supermarket to survive for a couple of weeks, and I had managed to find it all within the first fifteen minutes spent in the grocery store. I was heading to pay when a supermarket cart hit me from behind.

"Shit! I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?" I heard before turning around to find a very worried-looking blonde woman who looked about my age.

I laughed it off, "Don't worry about it, I'm okay." 

"Are you sure? Do you need to get checked out? I've heard back injuries are the worst." The woman continued rambling, scanning me meticulously. 

"Well, maybe I would need to get checked out if you had hit me in the back, but since you just got my ass..." I trailed off. "I'm okay, really," I assured her. 

She still didn't look convinced.

"Are you?" I asked, frowning slightly. She seemed more affected by the incident than me. 

"I'm okay, just mortified," She said, putting her face in her hands. "Okay, let's start over."

She offered her hand to me. "I'm Julie, I'm sorry for hitting your ass with my cart. It's nice to meet you." 

I shook Julie's hand. "I'm Becca, it's nice to meet you too, Julie. Sorry that my ass was on the way." I smiled. 

"So, can I at least get you a drink or coffee to make it up to you?" Julie asked. 

"You know what, sure. I just moved here so it can't hurt knowing someone, right?" I agreed. 

"You just moved here? Oh my god! That's so exciting. Let's get drinks tonight, do you drink?" She said, excited. 

"I do drink, and that sounds great. What time?" 

"Harry's downtown at seven?" 

"Sounds good!" 

❈

Every single "going out" outfit of mine was in a suitcase or box somewhere in the apartment. 

I had decided not to unpack until I was confident I would be able to stay in the city, and in order to decide that I would need to go to work first. There were so many things that could make my coming back to Chicago a mess. Too many things. 

I found the box labeled "fancy," and pulled out the first top I saw, which was a low-cut top with black sequins. I paired it with black jeans and black heel boots, as my coat was black as well, and looking monochromatic in black never failed to be a look. 

Harry's was a bar that had been around ever since I was a child. It was a fancy place downtown, which was usually quite busy and crowded, but according to my mom, they made the best Manhattan she had ever had. It was my drink of choice, and since I had only been a child when I moved to California, I had never actually been to Harry's, so I would have to trust her judgment. 

I wondered what was I thinking, agreeing to go get a drink with a random woman I had met one time for less than five minutes, whose supermarket cart driving skills were questionable at best. 

Maybe it was the loneliness that came with living away from everything you've ever known for the very first time, away from your parents, friends, and everyday life. Maybe it was the fact that I knew that I had moved back to Chicago because I was chasing the opportunity to have my dream job, which I still didn't even know if it would end up being as good as I had pictured it in my mind for so long.