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Even on rainy days like today, there was a unique joy in the sweet scent of rain, cleansing the city and washing away the remnants of the cold, harsh winter. I felt it was a metaphor for my own life, returning from my travels had cleansed me of the pain I’d felt when I’d left DC nine months prior.
I’d been back in the city for a week now, readjusting to life in one place. Natalie, my roommate, and steadfast friend, had graciously held onto my room while I traversed continents. Now, as I settled into a more stable routine, she was excited to have a going-out buddy and roommate again.
“Everything is set for your first class on Monday, honey,” my mom’s voice came through the phone. “Organizational Behavior at 8 o’clock in lecture hall 8C. They’re looking forward to having you start in-person classes.”
Transitioning back to the States, I found a temporary sense of purpose teaching human resources classes at Capitol City Community College. It was a foothold as I navigated my way through life, still unsure about my long-term plans in HR.
Though working in corporate HR was no longer for me, I'd found that I did enjoy teaching students to prepare them for the rigors they would face some day in the corporate grind, and I was looking forward to moving to in person classes.
As I spent my Sunday catching up on laundry and cleaning my old room, my mind involuntarily wandered to Ethan. The urge to text him had only heightened once I landed on US soil, his phone number a constant reminder etched on my foot that could no longer be hidden now that warmer weather had arrived. However, something held me back.
It felt like I’d lived a different life when I was traveling. The people I’d met and the things I’d experienced could be compartmentalized, as “The Adventurous Sasha” versus “The Authentic Sasha”.
The problem was, Ethan didn’t fit in with Adventurous Sasha. I’d opened up to him in ways I hadn’t with any of the other connections I’d made while traveling and those in my personal life. Ethan felt like he belonged with the Authentic Sasha that lived in DC, four hundred miles away from him. And that was the problem.
That night, I sat in the living room sipping a glass of chamomile tea and catching up with Natalie on my travels.
“So, tell me again why you won’t text the hot American you met in Ireland?” she asked exasperatingly as she flopped on the couch next to me.
Natalie and I had lived together for the past three years, having met post grad at my first HR job where we spent most of our time gossiping and complaining about our boss who made inappropriate comments to the women who worked for him. We would hit the town after work among the suits of the city, drinking out our frustration over the corporate bullshit we had to put up with each day. One year into our friendship, her roommate bailed on her after an argument over not paying rent. She offered her spare room to me and we’d lived together ever since.
Natalie now worked as a licensed mental health professional for a small therapy office in the city, providing mental health services to the thousands of young adults working in corporate and consulting gigs in the city. It inspired me to see how she'd effortlessly made the shift in professions and was doing something so meaningful.
“He lives in Detroit.” I explained. “What’s the point in texting him?”
“You know, people do enjoy traveling and flights are cheap. Plus, DC in the spring is magical.” She cooed as she batted her eyes at me.
“Though I agree with the sentiment, it was just a casual fling.” I stated firmly, though I knew in my heart it didn’t exactly feel that way even close to two weeks after the fact. Thankfully, Natalie agreed to drop it for now.
That night as I turned to settle into bed, I heard a notification on my phone go off. Swiping it open I saw a number I recognized all too well.
Unknown: So, were you ever going to text me, or are you just going to look at my number on your foot every day?
My heart raced reading the message. I texted back, knowing full well it was Ethan.
Sasha: Who is this?
Unknown: I know you’ve memorized my number by now. The question is, why haven’t you texted me? Tattoo removal takes longer than two weeks to go in effect.
Sasha: I’m more interested in how you got my number. And how did you know that I was back in the States?
Ethan: Ella told Ryan you landed a week ago…and I had a feeling you were never going to get the courage to text me, so I texted myself from your phone the day I put my number in it. Been sitting on it hoping you’d text me first, but I decided, I can’t wait for the beautiful American for forever.
I laughed out loud in my quiet room. I couldn’t help the big grin that had spread across my face since seeing his message. I had no idea Ethan had texted himself from my phone and the thought caused a flutter in my stomach of excitement. It scared me that I was so eager to hear from him but knowing he was all the way in Detroit gave me some peace. Nothing more could come of this than a flirty encounter, right?
Before I could respond, the dots jumped around again.
Ethan: Go out with me?
I hesitated, was he planning on flying to DC to see me? Obviously if he’d had my number, he would have known where I lived by seeing the ‘202’ area code.
Sasha: See that’s the thing about living four hundred miles apart…unless you have a private jet?
I watched as my message went to read and the dots jumped around as Ethan slowly typed back. After five painful minutes he responded
Ethan: Look, I wasn’t trying to be creepy, but I looked up your area code. You’re in Washington, DC, right?
Sasha: Yes…
