Dearest Rachel –
So this is it; a day that I’ve promised myself would come, in which I’m doing the whole ‘tourist in my home town’ bit. Oddly enough, I’m doing something that we’ve done before – which, considering how little time we ever spent in the city (apart from admiring the annual Christmas decorations at Marshall Field’s back in the day), makes it seem like a poor choice of activities. To be fair, the dynamic is different; last time I was on Chicago’s First Lady was over a decade ago, and part of a company outing. This time around, well…
…it’s nothing like that. As it happens, this is an actual date; not just a “hey, there’s a festival going on here, shall we meet up?” kind of deal, but a deliberate, “let’s take advantage of the day and go out together” date. Only, rather than it being with you, it’s with someone I’ve never met before. Apart from a couple of pictures (which, since I never actually paid money to subscribe to the service, I might not even be able to access at this point), I’ve no idea how I’ll recognize this woman. And here, we’re getting together and doing something that you and I might have considered elaborate for us to try.
It may be because neither of us saw any particular point to going into the city; there were enough things to do out here in the suburbs, and the extra trip didn’t feel like it was worth doing (to say nothing of the fact that we could easily amuse ourselves without even so much as having to leave the house). And you seemed to take pride in being a ‘cheap date,’ for some reason (probably your frugal upbringing). On the other hand, it’s easier to do things – any things – together when you live together already; I have a long way to go before I get to that point again, if I ever can. So, sometimes I have to indulge in the more elaborate outings like this from time to time.
Besides, after the dinner date plan fell through a couple of weeks ago, and she had to leave town, I contacted her when she returned and asked if she would like to try again, to which she agreed, but admitted to not being available until Saturday. Well, at that point, it seemed like a good idea to make more of a day out of it – one can meet for dinner any night of the week, to be honest – and suggested doing something a little more involved, without having any specifics in mind. Again, this was greeted with enthusiastic assent, leaving me to come up with possibilities.
Thankfully, I still have my folks, and particularly my dad, to come up with suggestions. Honestly, I think he would have been happy to research more than the three ideas he came up with right off the top of his head, but maybe it was best to start with a smaller pool of choices, so as to avoid overload (you, of all people, recall how hard it could be to decide on something when confronted with a plethora of options). She was happy to go on the architectural tour through the Chicago River.
So I’m working on my plans to get down there and meet her there, which include working out train timetable and walking maps. I think I’ve got the getting there part sorted out, so the return trip (which won’t have the constraints of needing me to be there by a certain time) will just be a matter of retracing my steps.
I’ve also got to figure out about conversation. Like I said, I’ve never met this woman – and yes, she’s a woman; I can’t refer to her as a ‘girl,’ even by my own definition. I have been reliably informed, of course – particularly by the current ruling Party – that age is but a number (although, for some strange reason, they seem to suddenly be changing their mind about this assertion), although the numbers they’re talking about are significantly higher than anything I’m dealing with. So what if she’s not an ingenue or a manic pixie dream girl? I probably couldn’t handle one of those, in any event – now, or quite possibly, ever.
I also have to concern myself about conversation; while you can tell from these letters that I can go on at some length about just about any subject, no matter how mundane or inconsequential, I need to both let her talk, too (and ask her questions about herself) and listen to what she has to say (and commit as much as I can to memory, if I’m at all interested in keeping this relationship going – and she’s already expressed interest in one or more of those other options I suggested earlier, so she’s certainly open to the idea). If I really care about her and “us,” I can’t just rabbit on about me.
This is where I probably could stop and ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, but I did manage to have a quick dream of you before I woke up this morning; and I have to admit, it seems germane to my situation. I was in the car, just about to leave… somewhere, but it clearly wasn’t the house. You were inside, talking to someone (or several someones, in fact), and just emerging from the building as I slowly drove past the entrance, at which point, our eyes met, and you all but literally leaped into action, running for the car, and sliding under it with an athleticism I didn’t know you possessed. I don’t even think I heard the door open and close, but the next thing I knew, you were sitting next to me, giving me a look like ‘you were going to leave me behind? Really?’
If you want to come with, honey, I suppose you’re welcome to; I honestly wish you hadn’t left in the first place, but that ship has sailed. Now, I’ve got to get downtown in time to board this one. Still, I’ll need all the luck you can wish me.
Letters to Rachel 