Note to Michael

Alone in her home, maybe for the first time in years, she laid on her stomach in the dark, typing into her mini laptop. She created a person on an Internet match site who went by the name Susan. She was a smart, creative, thoughtful woman, who was in search of a "single male for friendship or dating." She didn't know what kind of friends she would encounter in this anonymous world of selfies and lyrical autobiographies. But with the exception of a few desperate-sounding, couldn't write their way out of a paper bag types, the possibilities seemed promising. She thought she had known loneliness when she was single. And then, a new, more wrenching loneliness as a mother of a baby girl, her husband desperately holed up in the farthest corner of their home reeling with regret. But this rainy cool spring evening as she sat in the dark, too anxious to turn on lights as the sky faded to black, a stark new sensation of loneliness washed over her. Her revisions were labored, she didn't want to appear lost, like this was a desperate plea for validation. Of course it was.

Earlier that week she had filed a petition for separation. She chose a lawyer by Googling "Divorce lawyer Rogers Park." Mr. Stone gladly obliged her request to represent her. She met him on her day off in a nearby suburb. His office was filthy. Subway wrappers littered his desk and floor. Instead of fleeing, she took it in stride. After all, she was doing a deed that unearthed so many unpleasant, even nauseating feelings, that sitting in a dank basement office discussing the exorbitant cost of divorce-it felt perfectly in line with her mood to be surrounded by garbage. He didn't shake her hand. "I got a thing..." he said. Germaphobe? Warts? She didn't inquire further. He was young, but his beard was very long. And he wore a sad, wrinkled white shirt with odd strings hanging from his belt. A few minutes into their conversation it became clear that he was one of the Orthodox Jews she had grown used to seeing in the nearby neighborhood, often walking to and from services on Saturdays. He was a real estate lawyer. This didn't sway her from seeking his counsel for her divorce. Turning back was not an option. She made it this far, she would just see it through, this unchartered journey she was about to embark upon.

Fighting through a stinging headache, she typed, reread, edited, added, subtracted, reworded, and selected photos of a younger, brighter self. It was exactly like applying for a job, and carried the same anticipation and weight of filling out an application for a job whose requirements were only vaguely known.

This person was easy to create. She had a great job, a family, a respectable history of being a city dweller with some street cred. She knew the bike trails, the cool bars, after living in Chicago for 12 years she knew the city like an old friend. She was a chameleon who could adapt to her surroundings. She's studied all sorts of environments and people. All she needed to do was get noticed.

And just hours later, you noticed.

You asked to meet her at a restaurant in her neighborhood. You were late. And that was acceptable. She knew you had kids at home. You were determined to meet her though. She was thrilled. She drove with the radio blasting the theme from Footloose. She ordered a shot of whiskey to calm her nerves. When you arrived you flashed her a warm, but reserved smile. You sat at a table that was uncomfortably high for both of you. You talked about work, college, sports (it was a sports bar). You didn't like the service. It seemed like you were in a hurry to get through this part. And then you paid the bill and said your goodbyes in the parking lot. You gave her an extra long, silent look. She smiled awkwardly. And that was it.

She went home alone and thought, well, that wasn't so hard. And thought about the possibility of meeting others. This guy was a CEO, after all. He probably had lots of opportunities to meet other women. She would chalk it up to experience and move on.

She couldn't have predicted that only 6 weeks later, she would exit a plane in New York City under a full moon, and walk into a hotel lobby to find the same man in an ill-fitting, and nonetheless, handsome, tweed blazer.

For 3 days they enjoyed one another's uninterrupted company. Long walks, lazy breakfasts, views that she knew only from TV and movies. Her 35th year, her most difficult and painful year, ended in a sweltering haze of soothing infatuation.