NIP 4

We bend at our knees to pick up our respective garment bags, briefcases and gym bags the exact same way at the exact same time. We have not yet walked down the aisle but anyone witnessing this scene would think we had been married for 35 years. In reality, we perfected our morning routine after our third date. It was in the stars.

“Starbucks.” As unnecessary announcement made in unison. Starbucks has been part of our routine since our first date. I reported on a statistic about 5 weeks ago saying couples who have sex on the first date are 77% more likely to fizzle within the first week of dating. I had a hard time being objective while interviewing the know-it-all psychologist because my experience has proved quite the opposite. And I have the ring to prove it. Mark locks our front door as I press the elevator ‘down’ button. This is symbolic of the day officially getting underway.

“You look beautiful.” Mark leans in for a kiss. I giggle and nuzzle my face between his neck and shoulder. I am certain my head was shaped special for this part of his body. We have 32 floors to the ground level and we take advantage of this journey by teasing and touching each other.

“Ahhhh, practicing to be newlyweds I see. It’s a good morning!” Smirks Doug, our doorman.

“Morning Doug.” I mumble with shifty eyes. “How could you not hear the elevator door open?!?” I nudge Mark with exaggerated embarrassment.

“Your moans drown out all noise.” He grins.

“Lovely.” I mutter sarcastically. I feel my cheeks heat up.

“Are you blushing??” He teases me with his adorable smile. I just shrug. We jaywalk across the street to Starbucks. The sun is barely peeping through the overcast sky.

“Hi Mark! Hi Sari! Good morning. The usual.” States - not asks - the barista, Ashley.

“Yes please. Thank you Ashley.” We stand face to face waiting with all other early morning caffeine needy citizens of Chicago. “Do you have a busy day honey?”

“Oh you know. Everyday is hectic defending the less fortunate.” Mark humbly rags. Mark has worked at the public defenders office since he graduated law school 5 years ago. His compassion and brilliance were an instant turn on when we met 3 years ago. Mark truly believes every person deserves a fair trial. He has been a mentor for Big Brother Little Brother for nearly 10 years. Mark’s legacy will surely be his self-imposed tagline ‘there are those people who find themselves in unfortunate situations and need a hand to hoist them up.’ He fights the fight for petty thieves and career criminals alike with dignity and grace. Mark sees a soul worth defending in every human being. “If all goes well we will finish up the sniper case jury selection today.”

“Jeez. Intense. I feel awful for waking you up in the middle of the night!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You needing me makes me stronger.”

“You truly are perfect.” I tip on my toes and kiss his nose.

“Okay lovebirds break it up. You, take your venti latte and go keep the peace. And you, take your grande soy latte and report about it. Bye!” As quick as Ashley appeared she is gone.

"Call me whenever you have a chance." I kiss my fiance good-bye.

"I promise I will. Knock'em dead today Sari Clarke live from..." Mark winks. "Live from...that cab!"

I climb into the cab Mark hailed for me. Out of the back window I watch as he heads down the lonely city street to the gym. Mark runs 3 miles on the treadmill every morning and has his entire adult life. The daily ritual clears his head, energizes his body and prepares him for the day ahead. He repeats these reasons in this order every time he is questioned about his running…I memorized it. Not to mention his exercise keeps his 6’2 frame nicely fit and trim. I would be hard pressed to ever lay eyes on a more attractive man.

“Good morning. The ABC building please. Thank…” My cell phone interrupts me. The cabbie nods in recognition and pulls away from the curb.

‘Glamorous…G.L.A.M.OROUS…Glamorous.’ Fergie’s singing tells me my sister is calling. Why in the world is Lizi calling me at 6:15a.m.? I am sure Lizi has not been up this early since Aunt Clara made her help the neighbor boy, Jake, with his paper route. 8 year old Lizi lasted one day and then I took over until Jake returned home from vacation. She is my youngest sister so, of course, I came to her rescue. Lizi is not a morning person…especially not now. At the ripe age of 25 she spends her nights bartending and her afternoons teaching fitness. All fitness…kickboxing, step, cycling, pilates and personal training. Lizi is the real life energizer bunny. It’s my prediction she will one day claim the Billy Blanks Tae-bo empire. In part, thanks to this energy, Lizi is one of those girls all the girls want to be like and all the guys want to get with. The other part, she is gorgeous. Lizi has long, silky straight, light brown sugar hair, a color rarely seen on someone who is not famous. And she is physical perfection at 5’6 weighing in at 115lbs. Our other sister, Ainslie, and I find it very hard not to hate her. But, as luck would have it, she has a huge personality and keeps us laughing all day long…it is impossible to hate her!

“Morning Lizi! Or is it good night?” I kid. Despite her motivation, the bar industry can be very alluring and keep its captives out until sunrise. I can attest. Though I only bartended one Cubs season eons ago.

“Try middle of the night.” Lizi groggily whines. “I must have hot milk…I need it. I’ve watched it soothe people in the movies.”

“Why Lizi, is something the matter? Are you sick? Do you not have any milk?” I will gladly bring Lizi milk this minute. My nervous heart begins to race. I’m the worst when it comes to worrying about my little sisters. Our parents were killed in a car accident when I was 4 years old and Lizi was only months old. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to explain my will to protect her and Ainslie, who was 2 at the time.

“No, no. I don’t know. It’s strange Sar. Right before closing last night I lost my…god this is hard to explain. I was dropping everything…I felt really scared. Weird, huh? It’s like I was having a mini-panic attack or something. I was totally spooked. This went on for over an hour! I came home, washed my face, crawled into bed but I just laid here all out of whack. My equilibrium was so completely off.” I can sense the strain in Lizi’s voice.

“Oh god, how awful. Are you feeling better now? Drink some water. Maybe you should call Dr. Stewart and schedule a check up. It could be your blood pressure…”

“No, no, it’s not anything like that my crazy hypochondriac sista. And stop talking so fast. You’ve had coffee. The Sari coffee curse has already kicked in and I am the maddened recipient. Oh joy.” Lizi must be feeling better if she is picking on me. “Anyway, this is not physical. It felt almost emotional. It’s strange. It’s nothing. I just needed to hear a friendly voice. So sweetie pie…I am going to phone Ainslie. She’ll nurse my psychosis.”

“Hey!” I feign annoyance. “Go for it. Call Ainslie. BUT you better have freshly made blueberry pancakes served on Leonardo Dicarpio naked ass at her door once she picks up that phone!” As I start chuckling I realize I have only amused myself. Typical.

More of the story unfolds Sunday night...