The Do-Over(14)

The treadmill next to Jill Presley was open and I parked my water bottle, phone, headphones and a towel in the compartments on the machine’s console.

“Did you have fun at the social last week?” she spoke with full control of her breath and had barely broken a sweat as she maintained a steady pace.

“Ugh, no.” I began my warm-up. “Had a weird experience. I hope it’s not a foreshadowing of my dating future. I looked for you a little bit later on in the evening, but you were already gone.”

“Yeah, I’m on the social committee, so I just stayed a little while to make sure everything was in place.” Increasing her speed, Jill’s easy strides remained steady. “How long have you been divorced?”

“About a year and a half,” I choked out, already out of breath.

“Five years for me.” Jill’s smile was the tell-all. She did look happy. And healthier than when she’d been Scarlett’s teacher. She now had a great, short pixie cut, which only women with gorgeous bone structure can pull off, her weight was down by at least twenty-five pounds and she was wearing the cutest pink tie-dye sports bra with matching Capri leggings. Suddenly my RISD Nads tee-shirt and Nike running shorts seemed like a poor choice, sort of like showing up for a dinner in jeans to find all the other women in cocktail dresses.

“That’s such a cute outfit,” I couldn’t help but comment.

“Thanks. It’s C-Kicker. This brand is a Godsend. I can’t even tell you how much I love it.”

I wondered if it was a Godsend because it wicked away moisture or looked cute and gave her a great ass. Describing clothes as a Godsend seemed a little odd.

The look on my face must’ve betrayed my thoughts.

“C-Kicker is a line of sports clothing for women who have had breast cancer. They’ve designed it for post-surgery comfort and for women who have prosthetics. They’ve really thought through all the details with this line. I know they’ve worked with actual breast cancer patients to design it,” she explained.

Losing my stride, I stumbled for a moment, fighting to stay upright and get my feet planted correctly back on the running deck. Jill’s news made my stomach muscles cramp, as I literally felt sick for her.

“I just celebrated three-years cancer free,” she delivered the news with a smile.

“Oh my God, Jill, I had no idea, but I’m so glad you are doing well now. Did this all happen after your divorce?”

“No, the initial diagnosis, lumpectomy, and first round of radiation and chemo happened prior to the divorce.”

I was floored. Did this douche actually leave his wife when she was in the throes of dealing with breast cancer? And I thought Frank had been a dick. He was a prince compared to this creep.

“Yeah, but we’d been disintegrating for a long time before my diagnosis,” she explained. “He was around through the first round, but his demeanor and negativity were just not what I needed when I was fighting for my life.”

As her words sunk in, I realized just how fortunate I was. Perspective. Get some, Tara.

“Divorcing Lee and freeing myself from a situation that was making me miserable ended up being an incredible turning point for me. Just a few months after the divorce was finalized, I met the most wonderful man. His name is Ben and we were only together for few months when I had a recurrence and went through my mastectomy.” She slowed the speed on her machine to begin her cool down.

“Oh Jill, I am so sorry.”

“It was a rough time. But Ben was my rock through it and has been ever since. The man is my biggest cheerleader.”

And then, as if reading my thoughts, she smeared the icing on the cake.

“There are still some good ones out there, Tara, and I think we make better choices the second time around. We’re smarter now. We know what to look for and what we want.”

“And we know when to run,” I piped in.

“Exactly. So, even if the social we had here didn’t work for you, just get yourself out there. Get online, join clubs, download the dating apps, put yourself in places where you can meet men with similar interests. I’m living proof that there are still great guys to be found.” Jill took a swig from her water bottle. “This is just the beginning for you, Tara.”

I didn’t realize I really needed to hear those words.





Chapter 7


I’d only agreed to meet him for coffee. My last three dates had some special kind of language processing disorder where the words, “Let me take you to dinner,” actually meant, “You owe me sex.” I figured a cup of coffee wouldn’t even be worth a blow job. Especially since I’d only ordered a small drip. No caramel, no whipped cream, no nothing. Just a small cup of drip with a splash of half and half. No callouses on my knees for a simple cup of coffee, right?

An IT guy for a large law firm in the city, this guy was genuinely handsome. Really, really handsome, in a clean-cut Preppie kind of way. Unfortunately, his hot quotient was the converse and that was directly tied into his personality, or lack thereof. I was fighting for topics where we could get past two exchanges before the dead air moved back in and claimed the moment. And he didn’t get my jokes. Not a good thing. Not a good thing at all.

I had spent hours filling out the PerfectDate.com questionnaire with both Laynie and Scarlett looking over my shoulders.