Chapter 2 — Chicago
The heater is broken. Hazel woke up multiple times in the night to grab her down jacket that slid down to the side of the bed back on top of her. It was -7 degrees outside, tiny snowflakes hitting on the window forming crystal-like scratches. This is her third day in Chicago, even though it is only November the cold is starting to get unbearable. For the previous days, she just wandered around the city without any particular purpose. She walked back and forth Michigan Ave, Christmas carols are booming out of every store. Now that she thinks about it, Chicago at this time of the year is probably not the best place for people dragging on an ending relationship to get away from their minds. The city is lighting the Christmas tree tonight, and she just feels like staying in bed the whole day. She keeps reminding herself that Christmas in its essence is a religious holiday, and she as an outsider has absolutely no obligation to celebrate it with someone. Fuck it, she knows deep inside she is too culturally indoctrinated to overlook this.
It is still early in the morning, and her other roommates have all gone out to work. On her phone screen lies Conor’s message: I threw up at the party yesterday… It was from 2 hours ago. She tapped on the message, their conversation popped up on the screen. Before this message, it was a photo of a deep dish pizza Hazel sent last night. First time? Congrats hahaha! She hits send, turns off the screen, and sighed. The room is still in a frantic temperature, she ponders how to get herself ready while staying warm.
The whole decision of Hazel to visit the US suddenly became unbased when she and Conor agreed on ending their relationship. She booked the tickets months ago, without noticing that their world was going to turn 180 in the following weeks. The conversations were difficult indeed, and neither she nor Conor had the most determined personality. At a point, it didn’t seem to make sense for them to meet again. But on the other hand, even though they understood it would be too hard to carry on to be partners in the future, that didn’t seem to become contradictory to them meeting each other. It’s been a while since they talked face to face, and to Hazel that soley was enough to justify her trip.
She and Conor interned at the same company. They became friends through multiple talks over lunchtime, when they found out they share the same taste of movies, listen to the same podcast, and share the same passion andcuriosity towards the world. Although she always avoided admitting it, after Conor starts coming into the office, Hazel would look forward to their conversations every day at work. Sometimes after work, she would linger a bit longer around the office building, imagining herself running into Conor again so that they could talk a bit more. One day when she was smoking under the lamp around the block, she saw Conor walk past, eyes fixed on his phone, and stopped in front of her. Something in her heart definitely lit up that very moment, seeing him standing there, under the same lamppost with her on a gloomy December evening. Hazel almost tripped on her scarf when she skipped to him, hesitant about how he would treat the fact that she was holding a vape. Hey. She tried to sound as casual as possible. Hey, is that a vape? That’s so cool. Good, he likes it (or at least he doesn’t hate it). Yeah, you wanna try? She passed it over and he took a drag. From his moves, Hazel could tell that Conor is not even remotely a smoker. He let out some coughs and handed the vape back to Hazel. Well, how was it? She felt like a high schooler trying to impress top-grader girls by being mischievous and playing it cool. So dumb. Conor is still catching his breathe. Hmmm, it smells good, I guess? He smiled shyly, not knowing what other to comment. Hazel’s heart skipped another beat. You’ll get use to it, just come to me whenever you need a boost. Why do you make yourself sound so dumb? Hazel thought to herself. Dumb, dumb, dumb. It was until a few months after they were together Conor told her that he deliberately walked in her direction that night, in hope of running into her. Alright, I guess you’re my drug dealer then. Conor said, under the faint light of the post lamp Hazel couldn’t really see his expression. She returned a smile, praying silently that it looks as cool and calm as she imagined. Deal, I’ll see you tomorrow.
Hazel is now walking on the overpass connecting Millennium park to the art institution. It is approaching evening, the snow has stopped and the sky is still grey. She did consider going to the side of Michigan lake, but this thought quickly surrendered to the ceaseless biting wind of the city. This afternoon she stayed in the art gallery, to her pleasure the heater is toasty and consistent. She sat on the bench in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, staring into the warm summer afternoon in the painting. It wasn’t too busy as it was a weekday afternoon, and Hazel found herself dozing off a few times. The fatigue of traveling and adjusting to contrasting weather had finally kicked in after she came to Chicago. The night is slowly taking over the city, the crowd is gathering to see the lighting ceremony.
When she told Conor she was going to Chicago for a few days, he didn’t ask any questions. He had a few gatherings that week and probably was relieved that they wouldn’t have to confront the dilemma of whether to introduce her to his friends. She felt a sink in her chest when she thought about the fact, that she had become the excluded part of the new life of his. She tapped on the phone. Conor is asking what time would she be back tomorrow. Do people change? Or is it just time that would bring out people’s true essence, which others find frustrating to make attempts to alter? All Hazel wants to do now is to jump on the next train, which will take her one timezone forward to Michigan, and back to Conor’s tonight. She would tell him that all this is a terrible mistake, and everything between them could go back to where they were. Instead, she slides the phone back into her pocket and pulls the hood to her jacket even tighter. The shadow of the city skyline grows bigger in the dark, the light of the Christmas tree must be lit, there are distant cheering on the street.
