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“It started out as a hot mess but it seems I’ve got my ducks back in a row now,” I reply with a smile as I set a tray of bones aside. “You know about my dating woes, so you understand my plight.”
“Yeah, it gets harder the older you get,” Margo says. She wears her black hair braided into a single tail, her high cheekbones and dark brown eyes giving her a certain grace and poise I’ve not seen in other women. Then again, the Saginaw Chippewa ladies are renowned for their beauty and wisdom, and Margo is no exception. She doesn’t show her years, either. I only hope to carry myself the way Margo does when I’m her age. “But you keep at it. Don’t chase. Let them come to you. Sure, give all the signals you want to give, but remember that the flower doesn’t chase after the bee.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you. I’ve got that part down, though. It’s the getting past the first date part that still eludes me.”
She smiles gently. “Give it time, honey. You’re still young and you’re beautiful. You’ll find someone who appreciates you the way you deserve.”
I sincerely thank her and turn back to my work. After a few moments, Margo offers a nod of appreciation. “You’re on the right track, here. Keep at it, and I might just consider taking you with me to Mount Pleasant later this year.”
My heart practically swells with joy and anticipation. That’s close to her reservation in Central Michigan. Margo has never invited anyone from the museum to go back home with her. This is truly an honor and a gigantic privilege, yet all I can do is bite the inside of my cheek, terrified I might squeal with joy if I so much as open my mouth. “You’re serious?” I manage.
“You’ve proven yourself,” Margo chuckles. “Relax. It’s no big deal. I just got off the phone with one of the elders and I might be able to bring in some pieces on loan for the autumn exhibit. But I’ll keep you posted. I haven’t had confirmation from everybody just yet.”
“Even so, thank you, Margo, I wholeheartedly appreciate it.”
“Let’s just hope it leads somewhere concrete. I have plans for our tribal heritage, but I need to get the elders to understand that this stuff belongs in the museum in order for us to raise any kind of awareness. We’ll keep working on this settler camp in the meantime. So, you’ve got a young male, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m just about to gather more pieces from the loose box,” I reply. “The femur should give me more information.”
She points to the binder we’ve got set up next to the work desk, where we jot down every finding and observation to later compile into a full and comprehensive report. “It’s all written in there, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ve taken macros, too.”
“Great. I’ll go through my emails and take on the female that was buried with your fella, there,” she says, holding back a smile. “As for your second date conundrum… think about it this way. Maybe there’s no second date because they’re simply not meant to be in your life.”
I can’t help but scoff. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Why not?” Margo says, her silver and turquoise bracelets jingling as she sits behind her computer. “It can’t be forced, whatever it is. If you have to work hard to get a guy to like you, to get him to stick around, then he’s not going to stay. Love should be effortless. Organic. Natural. You hang out, you want to get to know one another. It shouldn’t feel like a job interview.”
“Gosh, it’s precisely how my dates have felt thus far,” I sigh deeply.
“Then they just weren’t meant to be. You move on and you keep trying. The right guy usually shows up when you least expect him,” she says.
It sounds so simple and easy. Am I the one who overcomplicates everything? Am I chasing wild horses when I should just go about my business and let love find me? Maybe Alex is right in that sense. The gym could be a great place to start. I can work on myself while investing time and energy into my health and well-being and maybe even meet some new people there.
“I feel like I’ve been missing out on so much,” I tell Margo, occasionally glancing her way. She’s still sifting through emails, but I know I’ve got her full attention on the matter. We don’t always engage in personal issues, though we’ve come to know each other well over the years. I respect her experience and her opinions. Not once has she steered me wrong professionally, so why not learn to trust her a little bit more on the personal side of things, too? “The funny thing is… I’ve got dating coaches, now. Thanks to my neighbor, my brother’s hockey coach, and his teammate.”
Margo stills and gives me a curious look. “Three dating coaches?”
“Noah, my neighbor, remember him? I must’ve mentioned him before.”
“You most certainly have,” she replies with a knowing smile.
Her answer shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve been carrying that torch for ages. “He offered to help me spruce up my seduction game,” I say. “Then there’s Jack, my brother’s coach. He’s going to help me refine my style, some restaurant etiquette, that sort of thing.”
“Do you mean Jack Bogdanovich, head coach for the Lansing Devils?”
“Yep.”
Margo laughs lightly. “Holy hell, girl, you’re playing in the big leagues already and you don’t even know it. And who’s the third lucky bastard?”
“He’s on the team, actually…”
“That’s bold. What does your brother think about it?”
All I have is a shrug. “It’s my personal life, right? Shouldn’t it concern me and me alone?”
“Yes, but they’re men he knows.”
