Avery and Jack’s Domestic Bliss… Take Three

The first apartment that Billy took Jack and I to view was in a modern hi-rise situated right in the heart of the Loop. It had two bedrooms—we’d decided that Jack needed a home office—one and a half baths and a balcony. Jack loved it. Then again, Jack would love anything. Melrose Park… Irving Park… shoebox in the City with Avery.

“We’re do we go for late night munchies?” I asked. Although the Loop is the heart of downtown Chicago, the blocks surrounding this building were dead after business hours. Next.

Billy took Jack and I to see more apartments: River North, Gold Cost, South Loop, New East Side, but I was displeased with any of them: too small, an awkwardly shaped room, ugly bathroom tile, shag carpeting left over from an era before my time. Each was lacking something—that va-va-voom—I was searching for.

After the seventh showing, Jack became frustrated. “Just pick,” he would yell at me. He couldn’t understand that I didn’t want to settle. This apartment was more than a cot and a squat. This apartment represented the next step in our lives together. It would be the foundation to our future. One day, when we were old and gray, we’d tell our grandkids with great pride all about the first home we’d built together.

 A few days after seeing the last apartment, I received a call from Billy. “Come immediately,” he said excitedly. “I’ve found the perfect place for you and Jack.”

The doorman, who introduced himself as Sims, smiled as he led us to the elevator. Billy educated us on the buildings history as we rode up to the 14^th floor. This was a condominium unit owned by a man who’d moved to St. Louis for work. He’d wanted to sell it, but, as a result of his need to relocate immediately, was open to a rent to own situation.

Our jaws dropped when we entered the apartments. The space was so large and open, and the kitchen and bathrooms were newly remodeled. Nothing but miles and miles of blue Lake Michigan could be seen through the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows that lined each room. It felt as though we were sitting on top of the world. We were home.

These memories raced through my mind as I waited for our landlord to answer the telephone. I prayed with each ring that he wouldn’t answer. Although I’d (barely) accepted that Jack and I were over, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this place.

With that thought, I hung up the telephone. Jack gave me a strange look. Did the landlord not answer? It wouldn’t have mattered had the landlord answered. In that split second, I’d decided that I was not leaving the apartment. 

Avery and Jack’s Domestic Bliss… Take Two

Jack and I had no clue as to how to begin our apartment search. He, the quintessential suburbanite, has no preference or concept as to which neighborhood would be appropriate for us. Although saddened at the prospect of losing my once perfect bachelor pad, I was eagerly looking forward to accomplishing a goal I’d set for myself as a little kid growing up in Oak Brook. I wanted to move downtown.

“But, Avery,” you’re all saying to yourself, “You lived in the West Loop. That’s downtown.”

You are correct. The West Loop is downtown, but the West Loop wasn’t the downtown I envisioned long ago. I wanted to be surrounded by the city’s tallest buildings. I wanted to step right outside my door and have no delay when hailing a taxi. I wanted to be walking distance to Michigan Avenue, Lake Michigan and all those other points of interest that we native Chicagoans make fun of tourists for loving.

“Sure. Whatever,” said Jack.

After all of my work with Dr. Drexel Carrington, I now have to wonder if Jack cared at all. As I said before, I believe his true motivation for “shaking up” with me was so he did not have to move in with his mother in Melrose Park or his dads in Irving Park. At the time, I gave this no thought. I was moving on up!

Through a friend’s referral, we connected with an amazingly friendly—and dreamy—real estate agent named Billy. Billy stood about six feet tall, had ocean blue eyes and spoke in a soothing baritone. His red hair sat messily on top of his head in a way that can only be achieved with the help of a $300 stylist and lots of product. Don’t cha just love a ginger?

“If it’s downtown you want,” Billy said, “then its downtown you’re going to get.”

With those words, we set out to find new diggs for Jack and me. We set out to find an apartment that met both of our needs. We set out to find a building that offered every amenity we desired—central air, a dishwasher and a doorman. We set out to build a home that would be overflowing with the most important amenity:

Love.

Avery and Jack’s Domestic Bliss Part I

Memories flooded back as I dialed our landlord. Jack and I had once been so happy in this apartment. We knew that we’d discovered our own piece of heaven the moment we’d first entered it.

Shortly after Jack graduated from college, he moved into my West Loop loft. It was bliss in one and a half rooms. He’d received and accepted a job offer from a company located in Schaumburg which allowed him to work from home two days a week. This worked out perfectly for us.

My shift at the hospital began promptly at 11:00PM. Jack and I would have dinner together each evening, either preparing a delicious meal at home or going out to one of the many establishments on Restaurant Row. Wishbone was always favorite. During dinner, Jack would tell me about his day, filling me in on all of his work gossip and—on days that he telecommuted—any good television I’d missed that afternoon. Afterward, I’d head off to work and he to bed.

I return home the following morning as Jack was preparing for his day at the office. We’d have breakfast together each day. Over eggs and coffee—champagne for me (7:00AM is my happy hour!), I would tell him about my night, filling him in on all of my work gossip and any breaking news that’d happened as he slept. Afterward, he’d head off to work and I to bed.

The newness of this arrangement, however, wore off rather quickly. Although our schedules complimented each other perfectly, the loft didn’t. The living and sleeping spaces were separated only by a half wall. While this setup worked perfectly as a bachelor pad, it was hardly ideal for coupledom.

On days that he worked from the apartment, I couldn’t get any sleep. I’d hear him typing and faxing and teleconferencing and whatever else-ing cubicle-dwellers do. Jack suffered just the same hardship. On my nights off, he’d hear my phone call and television shows and my using the blender when making margaritas for Jasper’s and my bi-weekly tele-cocktail party.

After two months of sleep deprivation, we’d both became irritable and unpleasant to be around. Enough was enough. For the good of our relationship and respective careers, we had to find a home that was more appropriate for our lifestyle. And what a search that was.

Avery Recites a Mantra… or Two

Jack and I stood face-to-face in front of the refrigerator. I froze. When I was young, my uncle in Milwaukee would take me and my cousins on camping trips. Before we ventured out into the wild, he would always remind us how to behave should we encounter a large predator.

“Remember,” Uncle Heinrich (the women—and 10% of the men—in my family are really into German guys. More about that later) would say. “Stand completely still. Sudden movements could lead to an unfortunate situation.”

Although we never had to put that lesson into practice, I’ve never forgotten it. Perhaps I was channeling it that morning. Perhaps if I stood completely still, Jack wouldn’t notice me. He’d graze right past me, through the kitchen and into the abyss (or suburbs) from whence he came.

No such luck.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said to me. I figured the safest thing to do was to answer his question with another question.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I spent last night at a friend’s, and  took the day off so we could continue our conversation. Figured you’d have cooled off by know.”

I stifled the string of expletives that languished on my tongue. Now was not the time to begin another fight. What was that saying that Whitley Gilbert on “A Different World”, used to repeat? “Relax, relate, release.”

“I’ve spoken with my father,” Jack continued. “I’m moving in with him and Stan.”

I haven’t told you this, but, by this point, Jack’s father Rodney and his domestic partner Stan has long moved from Irving Park to a quaint little bungalow in—are you ready for this—Berwyn. Jack was leaving me, the cats and our fabulous condominium with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Navy Pier to live with two middle-aged wannabe Village People in BERWYN? I needed a drink.

He continued his telling me his plans as I headed for the bar. He’d been thinking a lot about the fact that we’d signed a contract on the apartment (Good to know!). He’d decided that we should speak to our landlord. Maybe he’d let us out of the contract if we could find another buyer (Get real!). If not, Jack’s okay with buy the place and living as—you’ll need to sit down for this—roommates.

Relax, relate, release.

“I’ll take care of it, Jack.” Those five words had become my mantra. You might even say it was the slogan of our relationship. I’ve taken care of everything since the beginning, so there’s no reason I should stop now that were almost at the finish line. No one likes a quitter.

I reached for the telephone and began dialing the landlord. How would I possibly explain this predicament to him?