The Night I Got Lucky
her eyebrows at that last one.
    “Not that I’d do anything with Evan,” I said. “It would just be nice if he had a thing for me.”
    “I see,” Blinda said. “Bil y, what have you actual y done to get these things you desire for yourself ?”
    “Everything!”
    She raised her eyebrows again.
    “It’s true! I’ve been campaigning for the VP job forever. I’ve asked Chris to go to therapy with me, but he won’t. I’m talking to you about my mom and dad. I mean, I feel like I’ve been trying.”
    “At the risk of repeating myself, I’l tel you to look inside for your happiness.” She put her hands together in a prayer position and put them against her T-shirt clad chest. On it was written something in French.
    I stopped short of rol ing my eyes. “I have.”
    Blinda studied me. “If you get those things you want, would you be happy then?”
    “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes. As I said, I don’t think I’m asking for that much.”
    She crossed her legs and rearranged her colorful, flowy skirt. “Bil y, I’m going out of town for a while.”
    I opened and closed my mouth, surprised at the shift in topic and the concept of Blinda leaving. “Where are you going?”
    “Africa. I’m going to visit the vil age where I lived when I was in the Peace Corps.” She smiled beatifical y, and I got an image of blond Blinda surrounded by native vil agers doing tribal dances, praying for water. Immediately, I felt chagrined at my list of “needs.”
    “I’d like to give you something,” Blinda continued. She stood up and crossed the room to an old wood hutch with glass doors. Opening one of them, she reached inside. When she turned around, she held a smal green object in her hand. “Here you go.”
    The object was made of a glittery, jadelike material, and it was shaped like a frog on a lily pad. The frog’s hind legs were rounded little haunches, his eyes tiny jade spheres. His mouth was a long slash that ran under the eyes.
    “Wel , uh…thank you.” What was I supposed to do with it?
    “In ancient Chinese culture, this icon was thought to bring good fortune to the owner.”
    “Right. Great.” But what I was thinking was, Of all the New Age crap….
    “I’l let you know when I’m back in the city, but in the meantime, keep this. I hope it brings what you wish for.”
    “Thanks, Blinda.” I glanced at the ivory clock on the coffee table. My hour was up. I’d now have to cut her a check for a hundred dol ars, and al I had to show for it was a crappy piece of green rock.

    “What’s that?” Chris said. He was in bed already with a little light reading—a book cal ed The Second Carthaginian War.
    “A frog.” I put in on my nightstand next to my clock and set the clock for seven-fifteen. “Blinda gave it to me.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not entirely sure.”

    Chris laughed. “Sounds like a top-of-the-line therapist.”
    I put a hand on my hip and gave him a look.
    “Sorry,” he said, stil laughing.
    I looked at the frog again. It seemed so little and Asian and out of place on my contemporary maple nightstand, next to my sleek black clock that played ocean and rainforest sounds in addition to the radio. And then I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
    “Come to bed,” Chris said with a smile, and I wondered if tonight was going to be one of those few nights we spent in each other’s arms. There used to be many of them.
    I remembered the evening I’d met him at a northside pizza place. We’d been set up by Tess, my high school girlfriend, and her husband, Tim, who worked with Chris. Chris was adorable that night in his navy suit and tie, his brown leather loafers shiny and uncreased as if he’d just bought them. He was eager to meet me, unlike Evan, who never seemed to notice me, and unlike the other guys I met, who had to be oh-so-cool al the damn time. We bonded at first over two smal , strange things—our birthdays were only one day apart
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