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“What do you mean, Cassie? This is one of my favorite cafés in New Orleans. Do you have a second to chat?”
“I only have a second,” I said, lying, dropping a menu on the table. “It’s been so busy. We’ve been down a waitress, and I’ve been working like a dog.”
Truthfully, I was avoiding this conversation with Matilda because I was worried I’d broken the rules by talking to last night’s man for too long and asking too many personal questions. I looked around the nearly empty restaurant. The breakfast crowd wouldn’t hit for another half hour. Will was probably still at Tracina’s, knowing I was scheduled for the breakfast shift. I slid into the chair, feeling guilty, but for what I didn’t know.
“Did you have fun last night? With Jesse?” she asked.
“Jesse? That’s his name?” Butterflies roused in my stomach.
“Yes. Jesse. First of all, I’m sorry if you were at all taken aback by his late arrival.”
“It all worked out. Really well, actually,” I said, looking down. “I … liked him.”
“That’s the other thing I’m here for. I think you’ve left an impression on him too, Cassie.”
My heart leapt a little at the idea, and yet it was also flooded with the strange improbability of it all.
“Listen, it happens sometimes. People make a connection. Something clicks, and people want to know a little bit more about each other. So. What I can tell you is this: I can facilitate a meeting between you and Jesse. But if that’s your choice, you’d be done. Your journey would end at Step Three. You’d be out of S.E.C.R.E.T. So would he.”
I gulped.
“Truthfully,” she added. “I didn’t think Jesse is your type. I mean, he’s sexy, but he’s …”
“Married?”
“Divorced. But I can’t say anything more than that, Cassie. You think about it. I’ll give you a week.”
“Is he … Does he … want to see more of me?”
“Yes. He does,” she said, a little sadly. “He’s made that clear. Listen, Cassie. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say this: you’re thriving. I can see it. I’d hate to see you stop this momentum for a man you know nothing about, so soon into your journey, based on one great night.”
“Does it happen a lot?”
“Many women do end self-exploration prematurely. Most regret it. Not just in S.E.C.R.E.T. but in life.”
Matilda placed her hand over mine, just as Will made his hurried way from the kitchen through the dining area, past us to where Tracina was attempting to parallel-park his truck in a small spot on the street in front of the restaurant. Even from where I was sitting, I could see it was a bad idea.
“Jesus! Stop! I told you to wait for me!” he yelled out the door.
I couldn’t make out what Tracina said in reply, but it was loud and animated; the truck was askew and blocking traffic out front.
This is what it’s like to have a boyfriend, I thought, and this is what it’s like to be someone’s girlfriend. You spend your days careening between bliss and disappointment, love and a bit of loathing, your every action weighed against the approval and disapproval of someone else. You don’t own them and they don’t own you, yet you’re responsible for their every want and desire, some you can satisfy, some you never, ever will. Did I want that right now? Did I want to be some man’s girlfriend? Did I even know anything about this man Jesse? A tattooed pastry chef who lives God-knows-where and has a kid? Sure, we had chemistry. But still. I hardly knew him!
Just as I was going over all of these things in my mind, outside the window I saw Tracina get out of the awkwardly parked truck and slam the door. I watched her as she dangled the keys in front of Will’s face and then threw them at his feet.
Will picked up the keys and stood still for a few seconds, staring straight ahead.
“You know what?” I said, turning to Matilda once more. “I don’t need any more time to think this through. I know what I want to do. I want more. I want S.E.C.R.E.T.”
Matilda smiled. She gently placed my Step Three charm in my hand and patted it shut. “Jesse forgot to give this to you. But I think I’m the right person to offer it.”
I looked at the word on the charm: Trust. Yes. But did I trust that I had made the right choice?
Three weeks after my near resignation, my Step Four card arrived the old-fashioned way, by mail. I took the stairs back up to my apartment two at a time, feeling as excited to see those envelopes as I did contemplating the fantasies. It was like getting an invitation to an amazing party every month. Thoughts of Jesse would creep in now and again, mostly leaving me marveling that S.E.C.R.E.T. had picked him, a tattooed pastry chef, as my “type.” But they were right. It made me realize that I’d chosen men, crushes, dates from such a narrow field. But I didn’t regret my decision to stay in S.E.C.R.E.T. I was discovering too much about myself to stop now. Still, sometimes a memory of his arms, his wicked smile, would flash cross my mind and send a shiver through my whole body.
I ripped open the manila envelope. The smaller, more ornate one slipped out. My Step Four card. The word Generosity was elegantly printed on the back. Inside was an invitation for a home-cooked meal at the Mansion on the second Friday of the month. The Mansion. A home-cooked meal. Generosity indeed! The dress code, however, seemed weirdly specific: Please wear black yoga pants, a plain white T-shirt, hair in a ponytail, sneakers, very little makeup. A part of me was a little disappointed that I’d be going to the Mansion but wouldn’t be allowed to wear something ultra-sexy or sophisticated. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t have to go shopping beforehand. And at least I would finally
be going to the Mansion, this mythical place that had seized my imagination in both good and slightly scary ways.
