ã€ŠEVERYTHING WE WERE - BOOK Iã€‹


 CHAPTER 1 ~ ONENESS

    In July 2012, scientists discovered the Higgs¨CBoson particle, an elusive atom always believed to exist. They coined it the ¡°God¡± particle, theorizing it not only held the universe together, but also contained the power to destroy it. Each day, the universe evolves with routine regularity as galaxies are put on course only to collide with each other. If we dared to imagine the sheer energy and force generated when planets and stars collide, how could it not be the most incomprehensible thought of all possible comprehensions? An ominous silence followed by the most horrific intensity of sound no human ear could ever unhear. A cosmic tsunami with each impact carrying out an exact purpose¡ªnot one of complete annihilation, but one of immaculate execution, bringing one galaxy¡¯s end into another¡¯s beginning. A survival of the galactic fittest¡ªconstruction by destruction; the way of the universe mirroring the way of life on Earth.

    Ultimately, this construction by destruction is not just another tree falling in the forest, but rather an accumulation of force and energy so great that when the ¡°God¡± particle does succumb to its own expansion, it will be indisputable. That on the day this morbid interstellar paradox takes place, when the entire universe collapses upon itself at such a high velocity, it will spare us both pain and recognition¡ªa reflection of God¡¯s love for us all. Only after it all fades to black, caught within the rock, fire, and wind of this relentless and unstoppable cosmic force, will the greatest scientific fact known will be answered by the Universe: that energy can neither be created nor destroyed.

    We carry a Higgs-Boson particle inside each one of us. We can never see it. We can never even touch it, yet something well beyond our awareness and even our own subconscious binds us together as we expand our lives through failure and triumph, pain and joy, and even heartache and love. During our lifetime, without consciousness and through consequence, through even our simplest decisions and actions, we naturally destroy some aspect of our lives only to construct ourselves into who we were always meant to be. We are oblivious to the entire process, each of us connected to the universe by design. A oneness with the reality of a truly unreal existence.

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    Construction by destruction¡ªthe way of our universe, and so it is within us all.

    It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this for me, at least what I dreamt it to be, but nothing in my life has ever been the way I imagined it. I lie conscious in the freezing cold, yet I feel nothing but warmth. There are frantic voices high above and even next to me, yet I fail to make out a single sound. There are shapes around me, yet I can¡¯t distinguish them enough to know who they are and what they mean. The only thing I can clearly feel, hear, or see are my thoughts, and they are more real to me than anything I¡¯ve ever known before. All I can do is drift in them without any idea where they are headed and wait for them to cease into darkness forever. I could¡¯ve never prepared myself for the reflections I have at this moment¡ªwell beyond my temerity to imagine, and although I¡¯m swept away by the deepest of regrets, this fear and sorrow have also strangely led me to the greatest peace I¡¯ve ever known.

    There seems to be more stars above and they are closer than ever. Or maybe I¡¯ve just never cared enough to notice? Could it be that I¡¯m actually moving towards them? Or are they coming towards me, longing to be touched? Or was this just an hallucination from the drugs I used to give me the courage to be here? Although no unsure of what is real anymore, one thing is perfectly clear¡ªI¡¯ve arrived at the ultimate truth and it¡¯s more real than life itself as all I ever struggled to understand, now has full meaning.

    To reflect upon things so real is painful, but it¡¯s a positive acceptance¡ªone I¡¯ve always longed for because it resides within truth and devoid of fantasy.

    The truth about my existence.

    The truth about love.

    The truth about life itself.

    I always felt that I had a purpose here, but never realized it until now.

    The timing alone beckons forth the irony of it all.

 CHAPTER 2 ~ AS IT ALL FADES

    As I ascend into a pillar of dust, pulsating colors form around me¡ªthe brightest pink, the lightest blue, the warmest orange, and the coolest purple. I reach out with a belief that there is meaning behind each, but they elude my touch and only pass through me; their beacon. These colors then blend to create even more vibrant ones, as uncertain shapes and figures begin to appear as if created by the subtle strokes of an invisible brush. Forms that eluded my initial understanding until I realized a familiarity exists with each. I first sense, then begin to know, that these spontaneous shapes and colors are in some way tied to my emotions.

    Each shape elicits a great emotion in me, and as their colors grow more vibrant, I feel a deeper connection to them. In what appears in a lively plume of smoke, a radiance of pink dances around and through me as I feel a familiar bond to this particular form. I reach out to embrace this rich silhouette, but it escapes my sense of touch. Just as sorrow consumes me, however, it suddenly produces a soft and joyful voice, its cadence in the most beautiful melody; one I recognize yet cannot name.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You act as if I¡¯ve been gone.¡±

    Before I can identify its significance, this mysterious shape vanishes, and another silhouette forms under a shroud of light powder-blue. At the moment I reach out for it, this newborn form embraces and moves through me, its color burning brighter and more intensely as I yet again feel a sense of familiarity and comfort with it. I then hear a voice; a soft, saddened one, but another I fail to name. As my emotions swell inside me, I realize this voice is from someone I saw myself in; someone I felt greatly for, like one would feel for its soul mate.

    ¡°I miss you more than ever. Haven¡¯t stopped thinking about you. This is a difficult time for me. I struggle because we¡¯re not together, and I miss you so much. I don¡¯t know what to do. This is by far the hardest thing I¡¯ve ever been through.¡±

    Suddenly surrounded by a dark blue, similar to the oceans seen on Earth from space, I watch the shape disappear only to be greeted by another larger and robust figure, with a much deeper pitch. And although I¡¯m unable to recognize the source of the voice yet again, my heightened emotions tell me I know the reason behind its color change.

    ¡°We¡¯re sorry to inform you that you¡¯re no longer a fit for us .¡±

    I suddenly feel as if I am falling and fading away, fully aware that there is nothing under me but an endless dark hole. I then see an even larger shape form from a light green-colored cloud, but it quickly changes into the darkest green, like a dense forest of trees, and splits into two. As my emotions sense their impatience and judgmental nature, they barrel towards me to surround and hover above me menacingly, with the sole intent to accelerate my descent into the void below. Nothing seems to change, as once again I¡¯m unable to recognize the callous and scratchy tenors that bellows from them, but the strong emotions they illicit suggests I knew the reason for their contempt.

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    ¡°I need your plea.¡± Demanded the one in front of me. ¡°The city prosecutor is going to ask the judge to put you in custody.¡±

    ¡°Look at these letters. I see ten of them here; all nothing more than a voluminous   collection of nonsensical ramblings!¡± Roared the second silhouette from behind. ¡°Then there¡¯s these ¡®All I Know¡¯ texts you sent that can only be defined as the anthem of a stalker. These texts alone are not only considered an act of violence, but also a criminal act! You are completely psychotic! Do you understand the victim wants nothing to do with you? Do you understand the victim does not love you? That she doesn¡¯t want to hear from you ever again? I¡¯ve had jury trials for murderers and read their guilty verdicts as they sat in the same exact seat you¡¯re sitting in today, but never, never have I in all my years behind the bench, have I sentenced a convicted murderer whose mind was as out of touch with reality as yours!¡±

    I begin to fall faster, like a meteor into the atmosphere as my breaths disappear and my greatest fears run amok. My descent then suddenly slows, like a bug caught in tree sap, and stalls completely. In this state of suspension, I¡¯m now greeted by yet another shape¡ªthe reason behind my idle position. This one is entirely different than the others; one I can only feel but cannot see. Without a visual to guide me, my only knowledge of this shape is to know it¡¯s there, in the guise of the darkest black as it all fades into darkness. Now, completely unaware of my surroundings, it feels like I¡¯m caught in quicksand as I¡¯m slowly pulled down by this shape into the black hole below. Unlike the voices before it though, I recognize the deep, sinister voice from the void beneath with the greatest of certainty.

    ¡°Let me tell you something right now. You may know me, but you have no idea who I am. I am a powerful person in this world, and will do everything within that power to destroy you. I will take from you anything you¡¯ve ever owned and everything you¡¯ve ever loved. I can destroy whatever I desire, and whoever I desire. You can count on one thing: the life you now know will be coming to an end. I¡¯m going to put you in a deep hole that you¡¯ll never be able to get out of. This is only the beginning. I own you today, tomorrow, and forever. She lied to you about everything. I know who you are¡ªI¡¯ve known for years. I know what you do. You¡¯re a fool--a complete psycho. Your life belongs to me!¡±

    As I fade away from the hot breath and an awareness of a character appearing to be evil in its purest form, I continue my descent. Falling with celerity, I reach out for a hand no longer there and into a more familiar realm¡ªthe greatest sadness imaginable.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 3 ~ RECKONING

    It wasn¡¯t the first time its ubiquitous eyes have appeared before me. Each time my pupils fell behind its innate shade, they¡¯ve been there stalking, lionlike¡ªsettling for nothing less than the kill. It¡¯s no surprise they hover above me now during this moment¡ªthe one they¡¯ve all been waiting for. What holds these fanatical spheres is unknown to me, but I imagine scaly skin, rows of vitriolic teeth or fangs, razor sharp talons to sink into my flesh. Whatever this creature is, I¡¯m defenseless against it now. Accepting of what is sure to come while waiting to be gorged then devoured.

    The eyes edge a little closer, but strategically enough to conceal its true form. This monster is a psychological one¡ªdeeply probing with yet an inveterate pique. With only vindictive intentions, this monster abhors me. Its movements are ostensibly subtle, but in me it sees a heresy beyond reproach. There¡¯s no banality about the beast¡¯s purpose¡ªit¡¯s playing with its meal. I dare not look away from its prodigious stare refusing to give it the satisfaction of my fear, wanting it to know this isn¡¯t the first time we¡¯ve met. I¡¯ve seen you before. Years before this moment. Always knowing you were there lurking. I refuse to be afraid of you. Telling him through my thoughts, hoping they seep through. And they do, as his black snout comes into view.

    Its unexpected move fills me with fear, as my lifetime appears to be a moment away from its end. After trying for so long, my reward finally arrived yet the finality of it is too real for me to bear. I tried to hold on to the chimerical possibility before me, but there¡¯s nothing imaginary here unlike love was on earth for me. Like thousands of planets crashing upon each other, he bellows a resounding roar worthy of the most venerable of contingents. Its teeth, hanging over and above the outside of its elongated mouth, as long as skyscrapers and razor sharp to the touch. As its strident cacophony continues, its eyes roll into its head, as a scorpion¡¯s tail makes its way above me. Arching its back, rows of crimson tipped plates rise from it reminding me of its link to the dinosaurs¡ªa fossil yet to be discovered buried too deep within the earth.

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    The beast¡¯s histrionics appear impulsive upon seeing me¡ªreveling in a moment it worked so hard and waited so long for. Far from idyllic, this milieu of the darkest dread brought with it a concomitant understanding¡ªto simply dispose of my soul would be an act of mercy. Even Dante couldn¡¯t have seen the circle of hell the beast had in store for me. It blamed me for every wrong I¡¯ve done, as its putrid thoughts infiltrated my senses. I told you a price would be paid for your insolence. For your twisted sense of self-righteous morality. You betrayed yourself and others believing in love. Love is the dance of the sinner, and no one has danced better than you. I want you to suffer and relive the turmoil you¡¯ve caused. Every act on earth that brought you to me, I want you to relive it again before I finish what I promised you. It¡¯s not enough for you to experience hell on earth only one time. Hell is a place to be experienced many times over.

    At that moment, I heard my name, a woman¡¯s voice¡ªPaige. Within seconds her voice was replaced with another roar¡ªa fiery chuckle. She had come for me, but evil had overtaken her¡ªthe results of my misgivings on Earth. As the entity¡¯s gaze bore deeper into my soul, there was no choice but to relive all that brought me to the truth about all that surrounds us¡ªthe truth about love.

 CHAPTER 4 ~ THE NOISOME SOUL

    A man flounders about on his knees, his hand reaching under beige cabinets for a capsule shaped object on a dirt laden tile floor. On his knees, he feels it in his palm then pinches between his fingers and bringing it to his face. What used to be a pure white color pill appears extraneously from its origins; covered in an abandoned spider¡¯s web and accumulated dirt from the kitchen¡¯s floor. The man knows what he holds in his hands is far from salubrious and abjuring in caution would be best. I, for one, would most certainly refuse to contemplate such a possibility¡ªthrowing away food even if a fly was even in its vicinity. He pops the pills in his mouth, unfazed, without a single wipe and without even water. After throwing the Vicodin pill down, he turns around and leans his back against the kitchen cabinets. Drips of sweat rolls down the side of his face and along his neck as he waits for the pill to placate his lassitude. He then buries the side of his face into his left palm, rubbing it into his forehead while breathing a defeated sigh of relief contemplating what brought him to this point. Could death be kinder?

    The scene shifts to this same man sitting outside a coffee shop, at its outside seating. Reaching into his pocket, he produces a folded piece of yellow stationary. After unfolding it, his hazel eyes scan a copy of the wrinkled letter he mailed her.

    ¡°I need to know about the heart pendant. I need to know what it meant. I¡¯m confused. I only asked you to return the necklace I bought for you, so I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re trying to tell me. Are you telling me your heart is with me? Are you telling me you still love me? If so, meet me at the Good Morning Caf¨¦, our old hangout, at 1:30 p.m. on Saturday and let¡¯s talk.¡±

    After he reads the letter again, he stuffs it back inside his pocket then checking a watch that shows the time is now 3 p.m. He looks up into the hot spring sun with a reddened countenance, winces his eyes, and then bows his head, his eyes on the ground searching for a lost effervescent hope.

    The scene shifts yet again, like moving through a portal in my mind, to this man once more.

    Shifting to another moment, I see this same man, again. I¡¯m unsure why I¡¯m seeing him but this time he¡¯s seated in his car. He takes a deep breath, his baggy eyes to the air as a Blackberry sits on his lap. For some reason, every second that passes seems to be torturous on his mind, even on his soul. His legs fidget below him, as the air from the high blowing air conditioning hits him square in the face, yet beads of sweat appear on his forehead as he reaches for something in his pocket. There is a sense of dread on his face¡ªa finality of some kind likened to death. He stares down at the Blackberry unable to face its contents¡ªlike a bad ending to an engrossing story. Suddenly, the communication device vibrates and starts to blink red. He immediately puts the phone to his face and reads its incoming message¡ªhopeful.

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    ¡°Are we ok?¡± he reads.

    He wants to respond ¡°we¡¯re fine¡± but something stops him, something very powerful¡ªthe truth about his feelings. He begins to respond then stops himself¡ªhe doesn¡¯t want to hurt her with how he feels. How what she has done has turned him into someone completely different from the man he had known for almost forty years. He can¡¯t deny the other awful truth about his feelings¡ªthat he loves her deeply.

    ¡°We¡¯re fine.¡± He responds then send his text message to her.

    A few seconds later a response appears.

    ¡°Are u sure?¡± reads the electronic message.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He responds quickly knowing any delay may reveal how he truly feels bringing pain to her.

    He then starts to scroll through his messages, to the one she sent at five in the morning. The one he anticipated from her for the last week before she made her two-week trip known to him.

    <u>5:00 a.m.</u>

    ¡°Hi! Don¡¯t know if this message will ever get to you. Anyway, hope you are doing well. On a Canary Island, Tenerife. Miss you.¡±

    Upon reading the message, he shakes his head then buries it into his hands¡ªostensibly hopeless.

    I''m once again transported, but this time to a courtroom¡ªto witness the same man sitting there alone. There is no judge present¡ªno jury, no attorneys, no defendant or plaintiff, no bailiff or stenographer. The man looks defeated, even comatose. Then, without warning, even with no one in the room, accusations are heard from a female.

    ¡°We were in a brief relationship.¡±

    ¡°My husband has never cheated on me.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been harassing me for years!¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t move on!¡±

    ¡°He forced me into being with him!¡±

    ¡°He threatened to tell my kids about us.¡±

    ¡°He threatened to kidnap me and my children!¡±

    ¡°Why is he trying to destroy my family?¡±

    The man tries to get out of his chair, but he is shocked to find he is handcuffed to it, unable to escape the rain of judgments pouring down upon him. The final one¡ªseemed to be the worst of all, causing him to bring his head to the desk.

    ¡°I don¡¯t love him.¡±

 CHAPTER 5 ~ A FILTHY HEART

    The beast, its eyes deep within mine, snarled. Whatever it allowed me to bear witness to was meant to break me into the dark human being I truly am. I couldn¡¯t believe it, my past coming back to not only haunt me, but to obliterate me into nothingness. Staring back at the beast was too much to handle while reliving all that brought me here. Learning no mercy was available to me, and all I could do was take in only what it allowed me to see. He was in control now, his wish a reality.

    I try to turn away from its glare but a figure appears in my line of sight. A shape muscular in stature¡ªsure and strong slowly moving towards me. Its two legs are bent back like those of a deer. His hooves dig into the crimson coal covered ground along with the sifting sound of a heavy axe being dragged behind him. Perfidiously raucous piglike grunts increase as he draws closer. When this incubus reaches me, I notice the familiar pale face¡ªthe same one I saw in court. A layer of twisted horns surrounds the top of its head like a crown as blood red eyes peer down into its snout and into mine. The creature flashes its fangs to elucidate its pleasure as it brings the three bladed axe around ostentatiously. A thorn tipped tail whips frenetically up and down behind it.

    With my imminent annihilation upon me, it¡¯s clear my life was consumed by darkness and the price for my carelessness was now being paid. I guess I hadn¡¯t suffered enough in their eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve waited so long to show you how vile you are. How deeply rich in treachery your soul is¡ªthe filthiness of your heart. You are the truly treacherous one, worthy of eternal damnation. You fell into the trap I set for you and the bait is under my talons to be lost forever. She belongs to the Prince, Culver now. He will destroy all that ever existed between you. Her true destiny.¡±

    At this point, I realized this creature, Culver, had always been there, lurking¡ªI just never realized his presence. He meshed in with the rest of the crowd but was always there in my most trying moments, feasting on my insidiousness¡ªmaking sure I felt every disregard I ever had for my life. This prince was the advent to my arrival in hell and Paige was his princess. The blades of his axe, all three, were not meant for me, but rather for the one under his master¡¯s talons. The one who dared to protect me, who tried to bring me to reason, but earth denied me it¡ªlike it denies us all. The man the beast allowed me to see, but not recognize until my despicability had reached its apex. The beast¡¯s deception, his adroitness in mixing lies with the truth, leaves me to feel defeated. I am grossly despicable and filthy hearted. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve become and always destined to be.

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    I¡¯m now jettisoned again to another scene, but this time, the creature allows me to recognize the man is me from the beginning. I¡¯m sitting in front of a laptop computer, isolated inside the den of my parent¡¯s home. I consume a beige rounded pill, a forty milligram OxyContin, with a tall glass of water. I start to type, but I stand abruptly and begin to pace the room unable to breathe. As each second passes, thoughts of mortality fill my head. Is this really it? How my story ends? I had taken too much, a pill off the streets, not a pharmacy¡ªa hot dose. I try not to panic and concentrate on my breathing but my heart wants to jump out from my chest. I resign to eventual unconsciousness, falling down on a couch then turning on a black fan sitting on a glass coffee table. I regain consciousness as the fan¡¯s breeze upon my face, but awaken to a woman with dark hair in a black dress perched where the fan should be. Unable to see her face through a rush of blurriness, I blink to clear my vision but she is gone¡ªjust the black fan blowing recycled air upon my face.

    The monster and its prince bask in my situation¡ªdelighted to make me aware I led love to the depths of hell. Gleefully showing me how I¡¯ve wronged others by trying to cope with earthly dilemmas and how love only led to my eternal damnation. Paige did all she could, but in the end, I betrayed her and destroyed all she fought for. My mere entry into this realm also brings a universal understanding¡ªthey can¡¯t deny the other parts of a life that led someone here. Bound to a spiritual law that called for a full review¡ªnot just excerpts. An edict the monstrous one, despite its attempted delineations, was fully aware of but it snatched a head start until Paige arrived. Before it could finish painting my turpitude, she served it a reminder I didn¡¯t belong yet¡ªmy soul on trial.

    Culver glared down upon me, smoke propagating from his snout and flashing his rotted yellow fanged teeth¡ªhis pale face a satiety of deep wrinkles. There was no denying he was after me¡ªalways had been. He worked through different monsters on earth, but his portal to me was through Paige. I instinctively knew his intentions, the bastard of all bastards, was to kill love forever by slaying Paige into oblivion. By killing her, he¡¯d end me too.

    I saw the fear in Paige¡¯s eyes under the beast as Culver made his way to her. Growing cognizant she tried to save me before my descent from earth, but unable to it make in time to save me from this trial under duress. All I could do was hope the beast wasn¡¯t the only judge as Paige¡¯s thoughts filled my head with one last commandment.

    ¡°You must tell your story.¡±

 CHAPTER 6 ~ STRUCTURAL DAMAGE

    Where do I begin to reveal the details of my soul that counter the monster I¡¯ve become? With no time to vacillate with eternity on the line? Opprobrium for those who wronged me and even the scorn I had for myself cannot be quieted. If God was asking for forgiveness from me, I couldn¡¯t oblige him¡ªtoo much unforgettable rage left over from earth. How could I be grateful for the one simple thing in life denied to me? Paige was the reason I had to try. I couldn¡¯t let Culver have her, but I also couldn¡¯t deny my soul¡ªthe most real part of me. How all I¡¯ve taken here couldn¡¯t save anyone.

    Our lives are ultimately defined by the choices we made, and just like most decisions rendered through sheer emotions, my mother¡¯s pregnancy was a mistake that had a domino effect on other lives. On Groundhog Day in the year 1971, I, Landyn Lastman, son of Paul and Suzanne Lastman of Harbor City, California, arrived into this world unplanned and unwanted. Although my birth fulfilled my mother¡¯s hopes and dreams, it wrecked my fathers¡¯. I never felt unloved or that he never loved or cared for my mother, I just felt he took his unhappiness out on me whenever the opportunity arose. He would never admit to any wrongdoing, but it was too late for that anyway because my mind had already absorbed his indifference towards me during my formative years.

    The deck was stacked against my father from the very beginning of his life, and when I came on the scene, it only disintegrated his hopes for a better one. He grew up in an old fashioned third-generation Italian household where discipline was dealt with physicality rather than time-outs¡ªwhere respect was never earned but always given. He was the third child, born in between two brothers and three sisters at the same hour allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, June sixth, 1944. He grew up in such a poor environment that all three boys shared a single twin bed and many nights were spent on a more comfortable option¡ªthe floor. I never knew the details, but how he ever got a decent nights¡¯ sleep in those conditions was beyond me as the constant fatigue had to affect his performance in school. This kind of life was extremely difficult on him; a reason why he found it equally difficult to build a bridge with me, a kid who lived in a relative ¡®lap of luxury¡¯ in his eyes.

    When he learned my mother was pregnant, he proposed to her. Most would say he did the right thing when he chose to wed my mother, but it only produced animosity in the eyes of the ones that were supposed to love and support him¡ªhis family. In 1961, my grandfather, a legendary fisherman in town, hurt his back on the job when he slipped and fell onto the second deck of his boat. Unable to provide for his family a year later, he decided to undergo a routine, but risky back procedure. The surgeon botched his back surgery so badly, he could never fish nor earn the same money again. A dark depression ensued as he dealt with his lost profession, one he loved and did for forty years, along with a mountain of debt with six growing kids in tow. This led him to find comfort in alcohol, bringing some joy in the pit of his darkness.

    Since they were born, my grandfather punished his boys with feet and fists instead of kisses and hugs. He grew up in a poor part of town in Genoa, Italy, and his father issued the same form of discipline since it kept him out of trouble. He found his father¡¯s form of discipline effective, so he played it forward to use on his own sons, as it was easy for boys to turn to drugs and crime in the rough town of Harbor City where they lived. The fear of a beating from their father, <em style="box-sizing: border-box">if he found out, always put a quick end to any temptation and kept them out of trouble. When his depression deepened from drinking, especially those times when a lack of funds for even a single beer led to mood altering withdrawal symptoms, he morphed into a more brutal disciplinarian¡ªa change that didn¡¯t sit well with his wife. He then became more prone to fits of rage, and would even kick his kids from underneath the table at dinner when they wanted more than they received to eat. Some nights, the kids were left with empty stomachs because he spent too much money on his battle with depression; an enemy no one could see or feel but him.

    His behavior forced his wife into the decision to divorce him as she turned each of her kids against their own father in court. She even encouraged her daughters to commit perjury as their fifth child, Frances, testified their father had hit her. In the end, the Judge ruled in favor of my grandmother, and she took everything he had. Since his older brothers were married and moved out before the divorce, she won custody of my dad and his three younger sisters. As a result, at the age of eighteen, his first year out of high school, my father became the sole provider of the family. When he got my mother pregnant at the age of twenty-seven, nine years after the divorce ruling, my father remained the breadwinner. As he put his life on hold, unable to be with his girlfriend of eight years who waited for him, his mother and three sisters took advantage of his hard-earned money, even when they could work themselves. For nine years, nearly every dollar my father earned went directly to his mother so she could take care of <em style="box-sizing: border-box">her kids, while his sisters waited for someone to marry them so they didn¡¯t have to work. When he broke the news of his plans to marry his girlfriend, it infuriated my grandmother and his sisters. And after accepting this responsibility as a parent, my grandmother then made the decision to never speak to him again. Up until the day his mother died, and although we were just a ten-minute drive away, my father and grandmother never spoke to each other again. Needless to say, I never got to meet her.

    It didn¡¯t take a genius to imagine how many times the word ¡°abortion¡± came up in those arguments. Rather than depend on herself for income, my father¡¯s sister Frances chose to harass my mother during her pregnancy instead. She would call my mother a ¡®whore¡¯ and a ¡®slut¡¯ on a daily basis around town. When my mother sent her an invitation to the wedding, out of respect and with hope for a reconciliation, Frances opted against selecting the ¡°respectfully decline¡± box. She instead sent the invitation back with written messages such as ¡°What color is your dress? There¡¯s no way it could be white¡± and ¡°I hope you have a miscarriage.¡± Feeling responsible for the family strife, she asked my father to raise the baby on her own, but he rebuffed all her attempts to do so. She had waited long enough for him and didn¡¯t deserve to wait any longer he would tell her. If his own mother couldn¡¯t find joy in his happiness or support him, then how could he ever depend on her to? After nine years of loyalty beyond what any of his other family members gave, he was ostracized from her life, all for the crime of beginning his own.

    My father always felt his mother unnecessarily pulled the trigger on her marriage and then unfairly relied on him to support her without any help from other members of his family. My grandmother felt my father had sinned against God when he impregnated my mother before they were married. My father was a man of principle and felt this situation was a sign from God rather than a sin against Him. Although he never told her, my father found his mother to have sinned when she gave up on his father¡ªa man she made vows, before God and family, to love ¡°for better or for worse¡±. My father felt the lack of support during her husband¡¯s greatest time of need, was what drove him to believe in the bottle more than in the vows she made to him. He reasoned she had six kids with the man and wouldn¡¯t have done so if she believed her husband was a horrible human being incapable of redemption. Regardless, she never made an effort to find a way to earn money to help with the family crisis, instead relying on a man who experienced nothing less than a tragic stroke of bad luck to carry them.

    Until now, I haven¡¯t thought about my father¡¯s family fallout¡ªit was never any of my business. My father¡¯s side of the family were all good to me regardless of the history. My uncles were always so much fun to be around and even my aunts were sweet and kind when I got to meet them at my grandmother¡¯s funeral. My father¡¯s foundation though best explained my misfortune¡ªwhy I felt cursed at times and why love mattered to me so damn much. My mother tolerated quite a bit, and my father gave up quite a bit to have me, yet here I was in hell¡ªa far cry from the man they raised. I¡¯ve spent my entire life absolutely convinced if I had never been born, everyone¡¯s lives would¡¯ve been much better off. A miscarriage, or even an abortion, would have been best for everyone.

    Suddenly, I¡¯m transported to a moment from my young childhood in 1975. That year, my father had been away in the army for the summer months, and had to work most days to make ends meet. At such a young age, I was unaware of the stress and fatigue he faced on a daily basis, and the pained history with his family. I¡¯m running around the house, wearing a pair of blue under all pajamas, a broad smile upon my face and carrying a birthday card in the shape of the number four.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take your picture, son.¡± My father tells me. ¡°Stand over by the shelves.¡±

    The living room in my old house had three shelves built into one of its walls. My mother used it for displaying Hallmark cards, framed pictures and assorted flowers. To this three-foot-tall four-year-old, my father was a giant of a man standing twice my height. While scratching his dark moustache, twitching his bushy eyebrows, and flexing his furry arms he positioned me in front of these shelves with no sense of joy. I stood there proudly though with my card in a death grip while he pointed the Polaroid Instant Camera at me. With a wide crooked smile, I couldn¡¯t wait for my picture to be added to the shelf of great moments behind me. We didn¡¯t have to wait a week for the photo to be developed, instantly added to the shelf within a flash. After positioning me in the way he envisioned, I triumphantly yelled ¡°cheese,¡± and he snapped the picture. After he said ¡°good job,¡± Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I did a little jig on the dark carpet. While he waved the pic back and forth trying to dry it, a glorious thought dawned on me¡ªthere was one day out of the year my parents found me worthy of some kind of celebration. With this in mind, a huge smile broke upon my face with pure joy as I shuffled my feet over to see the picture my father took. Ripping it in two, he then barked at me to ¡°go back¡± to my spot so he could take a ¡°better one¡±. As I stood there in anticipation of the word ¡°cheese,¡± he suddenly turned into Polaroid¡¯s Michelangelo.

    ¡°Son, bend your left leg and lift it up.¡± He instructed.

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    ¡°Okay, Dad!¡± I acknowledged eager to please but without knowing my left from my right.

    ¡°No, the other leg!¡± He clarified with vigor. ¡°Don¡¯t you know your right from your left?¡±

    ¡°This is my left.¡± Whispering to myself as I bent the leg he wanted me to.

    ¡°Landyn! What are you doing? Don¡¯t unbend your leg!¡± He yelled. ¡°Stand there and <em style="box-sizing: border-box">keep it bent.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­like this.¡± I replied still uncertain of what he wanted.

    ¡°Now, what are you doing?¡± He shouted. ¡°Keep it bent, I said! The left one! Not the right one! The right one is the wrong one!¡±

    ¡°Hey, Dad?¡± Asking in confusion.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How could my right leg be the wrong leg too?¡±

    ¡°What kind of question is that? That <em style="box-sizing: border-box">is your right leg, not the wrong one.¡± He said pointing to my right leg. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as a <em style="box-sizing: border-box">wrong leg.¡±

    ¡°But Dad, you just told me I was using the wrong leg, not the right one.¡± I countered. ¡°But I was using the right one.¡±

    ¡°Can you just bend your <em style="box-sizing: border-box">left leg and keep it <em style="box-sizing: border-box">bent for the picture?!¡± He retorted. ¡°No! Why would you bend the wrong leg again? The other leg is your left leg. Now lift <em style="box-sizing: border-box">that leg off the ground. Now bend it. Keep your right leg straight! Can¡¯t you extend your leg out a little more? You can¡¯t bend it any more than that?¡±

    Since it seemed I now required the flexibility of Plastic Man, I became too rattled to continue and started tearing up.

    ¡°Ah¡­forget it. Say ¡®cheese¡¯.¡± He said in frustration, snapping the picture. ¡°Happy birthday.¡±

    What he envisioned for the picture was for me to bend my left leg in front of my straight right leg to form the number four. What he received was a red-eyed Polaroid of me holding up the number four shaped birthday card with my legs in the shape of a distorted ¡°X¡± instead. A picture that never made it to the shelf of great moments with the others.

    My fourth birthday ostensibly set the stage for our disconnect. Over time, not only would he make me feel I failed him, but also that he didn¡¯t seem to believe in me. Opinions I spent most of my life trying to change. The beast seemed to revel in this revelation produced by this flashback. It knew the sort of anger born from it¡ªthe kind that puts one on the path to hell. My fear from its delight pushes me to another day when I was six¡ªto another episode of his discontent. The day I decided to run away from home. Since we lived across the street from a canyon, making an executive decision to live there was easy, feeling I¡¯d have more luck coexisting with opossums, racoons, and skunks than I did with my father. Since the move was only sixty yards away, this shouldn¡¯t have been too hard on my mother. She knew where I¡¯d be me if she ever wanted to visit. Still, she tried to discourage my move by telling me a giant crocodile with a taste for little boys lived in the canyon. But it only made me want to live there even more hoping to catch it and make it my pet. When that didn¡¯t work, she droned on about the horrors of the canyon at night while I packed three large carboard boxes with all the toys I had, and another smaller box with clothes. Since I didn¡¯t have a wagon for transporting, I walked each box to the park. Working in a methodical fashion, I picked up a box and moved it five yards. I¡¯d then pick up the second box and move it ahead of the first box. Then grabbing the third and placing it ahead of the second. Lastly, I¡¯d snatch the fourth and place it above the third. Repeating the process until reaching my mecca. By the time I reached the canyon, the moon ruled the sky. Leaving my boxes there, I decided to return home to ask my father for one last favor.

    ¡°Hey, Dad. Can I spend the night?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ll be out first thing in the morning.¡±

    ¡°All right, but you know you¡¯re gonna have to start your move all over again, don¡¯t you?¡± He replied. ¡°You don¡¯t want anyone stealin¡¯ your toys, do you?¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­no.¡± I replied never considering that possibility. While making a mad dash back to the canyon, unaware the entire time, my father was right behind¡ªto help me bring my boxes back home. The next morning, he extended an olive branch by offering to hit me some fly balls at the park where the canyon resided before I started my move again. I guess I made some pretty good catches that day¡ªhe allowed me to stay for another twenty years.

    My father gave me tough love, a form of love I struggled to find trust in. At such a young age, my formative years, my mind absorbed the trauma brought on by it. As I grew older, with each stumble in life and the grief he gave me over it, I could only cling to those times when my father doubted me. He never saw the positive in any risk by playing devil¡¯s advocate whenever I found the courage enough to dream. Exuding constant negativity energy his love felt more like attacks causing my mind to rail against his judgments and opinions¡ªundoubtedly brought on by his own lost hopes and dreams. Although he taught me humility, it was merely a biproduct of his tough love, attacking my confidence to the point it left me with none. Instilling in me a fear of failure so great, it only reeled me inward. Leaving me to take a back seat to others, even when my abilities were of greater value. In a highly competitive world, where people with a high sense of worth succeeded, it was the last thing I needed. I relied on sports, mostly baseball, basketball, and football, and the friendships I made through them to gain any sense of belonging, while feeling like a burden at home more than a blessing.

    My father had no intent to promote a low sense of self-worth in me, it was just a natural response after his own life experiences. He never had to paint a false sun either, just one that didn¡¯t always leave me scalded. By the age of sixteen, I was made aware of the history with his family. Allowing me to consider all he gave up, how he felt bitter, and why it affected me. There¡¯s a saying that goes, ¡°people will never forget the way you made them feel¡±. A saying that held true value because of what I absorbed from him. I never hated my father, he taught me how to catch, throw and hit a baseball. He put clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and even spent thousands on braces to fix my teeth when I was younger. I will always be grateful, but he made me feel he did those things for a stranger, not for his son. I just could never find trust in his love due to the family upheaval my birth caused. When I learned about it all, it clarified beyond all uncertainty that he would¡¯ve been much happier if I was never born.

 CHAPTER 7 ~ WHEN STARS COLLIDE

    I¡¯ve known a few thousand people on this planet, and each one had the power to cause me pain if they chose to. And although she spent more time with me than anyone else, my mother never hurt me once. Not that I believe the world was out to hurt me, but that¡¯s a difficult feat to pull off in this day and age, especially for imperfect people such as parents. She gave me a love I could trust in and without it, I wouldn¡¯t have made it this far. I couldn¡¯t blame my father for his bad moods. His hard times, before he married, never afforded him the complacency to turn down a job¡ªhe needed to maximize every opportunity to make ends meet. He had a hectic work schedule, working in the Port of Los Angeles as a tugboat deckhand. Then, worked an even more stressful job when he was promoted to operator. I recall being awakened many times by the sound of a ringing phone at two in the morning. This was always followed by the slam of a door as another ten-hour shift awaited him. With my father always at work (or away in the army before he landed work as a deckhand) forming a strong bond with my mother naturally occurred. A connection that led me to view women in the highest regard.

    With my father being the choppy seas of discipline, my mother became my safe harbor. When my father showed me darkness; my mother gave me light¡ªthe luminescence I needed to see my way through things. She had reasons of her own to be bitter and angry about life too. At fourteen, she lost her best friend in a tragic car accident. A year later, she had to quit school, an eighth-grader already behind a grade, to care for her father who fell gravely ill so her mother could work to support the family. In the year that followed, she lost him to cancer¡ªanother grandparent I never got to meet. At the age of twenty-eight, and because she grew up in such a poor household making regular trips to the dentist a luxury item, she lost her top six front teeth¡ªwearing a set of fake ones from that point forward. Then, right before her forty-second birthday during a routine physical, doctors discovered a small lump in her breast. After a biopsy was performed, she learned she had breast cancer.

    Through all these valleys that usually buried people under the rocks of self-pity and resentment, not once did I notice a change in her demeanor. Instead, she relied on an unyielding faith in God to get her through the rough patches. Rather than shout His name in vain, breast cancer only strengthened her love for Him¡ªinstilled early in her life by her mother, a devout Catholic. As a result, I was baptized, communionized, and confirmed to ensure the Lord Jesus Christ was a part of my life as well. One Easter, when I was nine years old, my grandmother gifted me a graphic version with comic-like illustrations of the entire Bible. At times, I even chose it over reading my ¡°Choose Your Own Adventure¡± series books. I skipped most of the Old Testament though to get to the story of Jesus. Not because of the message within, but because the illustrations were more graphic. I was too young to appreciate, or even comprehend, the meaning behind his betrayal and execution¡ªthe reason for his life and death. Even being disappointed he never sought redemption like a superhero would and just merely returning as a spirit.

    Bearing witness to my mother¡¯s struggles and then my own, I found no goodness in God¡ªa merciless, cruelly unfair deity who preyed on the blind faith of those who feared death. After taking an elementary logic class during my freshman year in college, I became officially sold on my convictions. After becoming more familiar with science and logical thought, the stories of the Bible appeared to be on par with those found in the National Enquirer. How on Earth could anyone create it¡­in just six days? If man evolved from apes, how could Adam and Eve exist at the same time monkeys were created? Why could the Bible omit those large reptiles called dinosaurs? How did Adam and Eve last long enough to be tempted by an apple, if they lived at the same time as the dinosaurs? Although I was no Paleontologist, I did see ¡°Jurassic Park¡± a few times and was well-versed on the behaviors of dinosaurs out of containment. When I was old enough to figure some of these things out, I made my mother aware of it.

    ¡°God has a master plan for us all, Landy,¡± she would say. ¡°With God, anything is possible! Everything happens for a reason!¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. The Bible is just a collection of fables written to scare people into being good.¡± I would tell her. ¡°The Ten Commandments are good to follow, but it¡¯s just a book of made-up stories so when people are on their death beds, they can be at peace.¡±

    ¡°If that was true and they believed in God and the Bible, wouldn¡¯t they be more afraid to die if they lived a bad life?¡± she would counter. ¡°Did you consider that?¡±

    ¡°Not really¡­buuut if they were still bad people after they knew the Bible, something tells me they didn¡¯t find enough value in it to truly believe anyway.¡± I¡¯d say. ¡°There¡¯s just no way God could exist other than in a really creative mind.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± She¡¯d fight back. ¡°How do you think I¡¯m still here after breast cancer?¡±

    ¡°By the grace of science and the wonders of modern medicine.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ ¡®the wonders of science and grace of modern medicine¡¯ may have helped me with my pain.¡± She would concede, then pointing a finger to the sky, ¡°but He gave me more time.¡±

    Although she was a bit dyslexic and had short-term memory issues, I feared overstepping my bounds when it came to her disease¡ªnever wanting to take anything away that gave her strength. She may have stood only five-foot two and weighed a petite one hundred and ten pounds, but she was a lot stronger than I was. At sixty she looked ten years younger, with a fair complexion, a healthy glow to her skin, and no wrinkles even when she smiled. She took great pride in how her nails looked and had her long bountiful dark hair done frequently, even as she battled cancer. She hid her fight and sadness so well, I wondered if she even had it¡ªinstead choosing to lie about it to make me feel guilty whenever I partied with my friends. And while I remained unconvinced of God¡¯s existence, there was one thing beyond true¡ªif I had cancer, or even half the things she endured in life, I would¡¯ve given up a long time ago.

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    Our discussions usually evened themselves out as she teased me about what she perceived to be my shortcomings. She may have even been right about her criticisms at times, but I always held my ground.

    ¡°Landy! You have no common sense!¡± She would shout.

    ¡°What? You believe in God, angels, and all the crazy Bible stories, and I¡¯m the one who has no common sense?¡± I¡¯d counter.

    ¡°Get out of my room!¡± She would then yell, slamming her bedroom door after pushing me out, even locking it for good measure.

    I¡¯d then grab the key she kept in the cabinet drawer right outside her room, and let myself back in; just so she knew I had enough ¡°common sense¡± to get back inside. Our spats though, usually and always ended up in a truce.

    ¡°Two tacos?¡± She would ask me. ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Two Tacos.¡± I¡¯d cave. ¡°I¡¯ll go right now.¡±

    In particular, tacos from Taco Bell were her kryptonite, and signaled the end to our disagreements. During my years in college, I called her ¡°Two Tacos¡± more than I did ¡°Mom¡±. Her simple taste for tacos, a vice she enjoyed infrequently, left me even more perplexed with God. She didn¡¯t drink and she didn¡¯t smoke. She never ate fatty and sugary foods, yet she had cancer? If God was any good, why would he punish one of his most ardent defenders? The only cause I could pinpoint to was how she always found some reason beyond reason to worry. If there was nothing to worry about¡ªshe would find a way to worry about it. Never allowing herself to enjoy life, instead sabotaging her happiness by drowning in a constant state of worry and stress. Not only was it easy to believe I was the reason for my father¡¯s unhappiness, but I also carried the burden of my mother¡¯s cancer¡ªnothing worried her more in life than me.

    Growing up in a traditional household, my mother took care of the house while my father was the sole breadwinner. When she started to work part-time as a cafeteria clerk at my elementary school, it flashed me back to the time I overheard a conversation between them.

    ¡°I got my first paycheck today.¡± My mother enthusiastically reported to my father as he returned home from work.

    ¡°Oh yeah? What you do with the money?¡± He deadpanned, while throwing his keys on top of the kitchen counter.

    ¡°I bought Landyn a new pair of shoes. He¡¯s worn his old ones out.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s had them for three years, Paul.¡± She retorted, shaking her head. ¡°Not only that, but he¡¯s grown out of them¡ªthey were hurtin¡¯ his feet.¡±

    ¡°What kind of shoes you buy him?¡± He inquired, folding his arms.

    ¡°Pro Wings.¡± She lied, placing her hands on her hips. ¡°I took him to Payless this morning.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? What you do with the rest of your money, Susie?¡±

    ¡°That was the rest of it.¡±

    Thankfully, my father didn¡¯t know the difference between Pro Wings and New Balance shoes¡ªshe didn¡¯t want me to wear shoes the kids at school would tease me about. Even though she didn¡¯t make much, my father still felt slighted. Why was she able to keep the money she earned, but my father had to surrender all his money to pay the bills? These small inequities in their marriage usually led to blown out of proportion arguments anytime a single cent of her money went to me. The more they argued, the more they bickered about other things that annoyed them. Even as these disagreements became routine, I refused to resign to the belief marriages were unrealistic. Instead, they made me aware of what seemed to be their greatest divide¡ªa lack of common interests. She loved to watch movies; he hated them. She loved to read the entertainment section of the newspaper; he preferred the front page. He loved to travel; she never wanted to leave the house. He loved to go out to eat: she preferred to cook. He wanted to move to a larger home: she wanted to stay put. He loved the show ¡°The Honeymooners¡±; she hated it. Their only real connection with each other seemed to be me.

    My father was only four years older than my mother, but he seemed impious towards her simply because he was older¡ªalways talking down to her. He respected her right to air, he just believed the air he inhaled and exhaled carried more value than hers. Since they never made concessions to each other, and my father held himself as the superior being, I saw how their partnership lacked an essential quality every marriage needed¡ªmutual respect. The manifestation of this impiety only showed me how much they weren¡¯t meant for each other. That my birth was the only reason they got married in the first place. I¡¯m not saying they didn¡¯t love each other, but if they shared common interests, their arguments had a chance to cross a bridge of compromise. In the aftermath of their arguments, I often found my mother inside her room, broken and defeated. The sound of her sobs brought me to side with her, even as I tried unsuccessfully to tune out their arguments. Without mutual respect, it led me to wonder two things. Did they just tolerate each other? And did this represent most marriages?

    After bearing witness to this iniquity for years, I vowed to never marry someone I viewed as less than my equal. I didn¡¯t have all the answers and wanted to meet someone who I respected and could learn from too. To enter into any partnership in life with someone who you thought you were better than, would only rob the other person of their right to happiness. Didn¡¯t we all want to feel valued and appreciated in life? When most of our hard work was done in the shadows and taken for granted and unappreciated? Happiness helps us survive those days when life is unjust to us. There was only one way to reach the zenith of contentment from the deepest valleys in a marriage¡ªthrough true love. A love that had all three of the essential elements¡ªmutual love, respect, and trust. A love that gave a marriage bridges and paths. That made life right for all those around it. These three essential elements were not mutually exclusive; they had to all be there before saying ¡°I do¡±. They needed to be in place for a marriage to survive the test of time. Without one of them, a marriage could survive but ran the risk of broken vows leading to dishonor the ones they promised to love.

    Although an idealist, I knew it was impossible to be happy all the time, even with true love, but if we were mostly unhappy, how could we ever serve our real purpose in life? With true love in our hearts, we had a fighting chance to cross the bridge of understanding and live a life full of value, meaning, and purpose. It¡¯s what I took away from my parent¡¯s combative union. This didn¡¯t mean they never got along¡ªI just couldn¡¯t take the chance of being unhappy because I would never serve my life¡¯s purpose. I also didn¡¯t want to unleash my displeasure with life on those around me because I thought I was in love. I vowed if I couldn¡¯t have true love, I would have some semblance of all three of its essential qualities before I promised the rest of my life to someone who blessed me enough to accept.

    I don¡¯t know what brought me to these thoughts while enveloped in purgatory¡ªit¡¯s clear at this point I was on auto pilot. It made me realize Culver had a history as much as I did. That even his history was intertwined with mine. Seeing the pain in Paige¡¯s eyes, as Culver¡¯s blade dug into the black ground beside her head, I still had much to learn about true love.

 CHAPTER 8 ~ BEYOND THE FLAME

    Even on the cusp of hell, Paige¡¯s dark eyes were reflected into mine, an unextinguishable fire. Her imperturbable gaze was more than about us, but the story of the man behind the blade. Culver exhibited the mien of a demon, but like a second star in the sky, a bigger story about the details of his life loomed. All three of us were intertwined in the deepest and darkest of ways. Paige had to be the only dark eyed angel in heaven¡ªthe beauty of her feathered dark hair flowing against all that was holy. I blamed myself for her presence. Although she couldn¡¯t save me from my fate, she flew down anyway, battling demons to get here. There was acknowledgement in her stare, an understanding how much my childhood told the story of my true self. One I had forgotten over the years. The story of my anguish but the nascent of my belief in love. My story, though insignificant to the world now above, meant eternity or not for three souls.

    Anger filled my heart up until the time I left earth and it¡¯s no different here. I¡¯m livid having eternity on my mind¡ªhaving to relive all that fucking burns me. How would I go about uncovering the germane between Culver and Paige? This anger inside can¡¯t save me. This story only fuels my urge to curse at the world I left behind. With so much hatred, with so much wrong, how could she think there¡¯s hope here? How could she be so damn capricious? What the fuck did she see in me to come down here? Now I¡¯m responsible for her? That falling made her collapse like a dying star upon itself? She had to know I was beyond hope! Fuck! She knew¡­she knew. She knew better to come here. Did I have to know about Culver? What they had? Should I have expected anything less than further torment? Please don¡¯t look at me like that!

    ¡°You¡¯re a loser! A total failure! Look at you¡ªwhat have you done with your life? You¡¯ve amounted to nothing! You are nothing!¡±

    Suddenly I¡¯m thrusted back to another version of hell¡ªto my father¡¯s destructive criticisms of me. They followed me from my teens into my mid-twenties, leaving me vulnerable to a much dangerous foe than my father¡ªmy own mind. Although I carried a low sense of self-worth, I held onto hope I¡¯d find true love one day. Have children born out of it and raise them to believe in it. Sure, it seemed contradictive I didn¡¯t believe in God, yet believed in love, but I¡¯ve seen true love in my lifetime through others. I had never seen the existence of God. I thought having more faith in the existence of true love than God that maybe I¡¯d find God through true love? No matter how many times reality showed me how farfetched my dream was, I couldn¡¯t afford to end up as unhappy as my father. The last thing I wanted to do was burden a wife and kids with my unhappiness, leaving them to feel as worthless as I felt. They didn¡¯t need my bitterness intruding on their lives.

    Out of the billions of galaxies in the universe, it¡¯s hard to believe Earth is the only planet with life out there. Like the scientists who searched for Earth-like planets, out of the billions of women who lived on this one, my true love had to be out there somewhere¡ªI just had to believe that kind of love existed. The kind of love that never made you want to hit the snooze button because you were too anxious to start the day. The kind of love that never succumbed to a fear of being alone because it was the kind of love we all should be brave enough to wait for. The kind of love that made you want to schedule date night months in advance and inspired creativity with each one you had. The kind of love that made you want to see the world because you got to experience it with the one that stirred you to jump on a plane to do so. The kind of love that gave you the temerity to pick up an instrument and write a song to touch the one you loved without physically doing so. The kind of love that made you want to write vows of your own so the one you gave forever to never doubted it. In my search for that kind of love, I refused to be discouraged nor deterred¡ªI would continue to dream until I found her. Any hardship would be viewed as another day closer to the discovery of that kind of love¡ªthe kind that carried the power to destroy the low self-worth my father instilled in me.

    I recall my quest to find true love starting in the sixth grade¡ªat a time I was far from interested in girls. No responsibilities, sheer ignorance, and the sun were the only three things I needed when I was eleven. While playing baseball, collecting baseball cards, and Star Wars took up most of the space in my head. Together, they created an immaculate environment to hope, wish, and dream in. I could be anything in the world I wanted to be¡ªa major league ballplayer, a Paleontologist, an artist, an actor, even a film director! Nothing stopped me from being any one of those things, but they all took a back seat when I met the new girl in school during my sixth-grade year; Tricia Holland. This magical, slim, tanned, hazel-eyed vixen with long, straight, and dark brown hair gave the word ¡°school¡± a brand-new identity in my eyes¡ªa place I considered hell on Earth the prior six years before her arrival. For the first time, I couldn¡¯t wait for school the next day, and it wasn¡¯t because of a pizza party or it being a Friday.

    When I started to look forward to school on Mondays, and weekends seemed too long, I knew I felt something special for the first time¡ªand it terrified me. I knew my friends would tease me if they found out¡ªI had to keep what I felt a secret. Each day on the playground, I alternated between the basketball court with my friends and the handball court where she was. I always found it easy to say ¡°hi¡± to her, but a word beyond that scared me to death. My teacher must have noticed my plight during recess and paired me on a project with her. I was so nervous being around her; all I could do was crack jokes. They surprisingly made her laugh though, and when we got the highest score in class on our project, our teacher continued to pair us together on other class activities. I soon became more comfortable around her, and even started to play basketball and handball together at recess. One day, I asked her where she lived. Surprisingly she lived only two blocks down the street from me. I knew nothing about fate or destiny when she shared this information, but it sure seemed someone had listened to my prayers.

    Before I could feel ecstatic about my good fortune, a curve ball was hurled at me¡ªmy two best friends, Vance Ryan and Greg Goodson, revealed they had crushes on Tricia. Being in a different class that year, they didn¡¯t know her until she played basketball with us one morning during recess. Although their crushes on her validated my feelings, I had competition now. Greg was so proud of his feelings, he loudly announced them to the entire sixth grade class. My own mother, who was a cafeteria clerk at the school, knew about Greg¡¯s crush¡ªhe even told her! Vance was quiet about his crush on Tricia for the same reasons I was. At least until Greg spoke brazenly of his feelings for her.

    Greg didn¡¯t waste any time to back up his words with action. Each day he tried to put his arm around her, and each time he did, Tricia laughed then pushed it off. Although she didn¡¯t appear to be interested in him, like a hungry crocodile he remained undeterred. With absolutely no clue how to, I had to find a way to tell her how I felt. Fortunately, Tricia gave me something she denied my competition¡ªher home address. One day, while being paired up on another project, she had a large plastic orange and black object hanging for dear life at the end of her pencil.

    ¡°Is that a cat?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s Garfield!¡± She emphatically exclaimed. ¡°You know who Garfield is!¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡± I retorted, scrambling to think of another famous cat. ¡°Uh¡­I¡¯ve only heard of Felix the Cat!¡±

    ¡°Felix the Cat? Never heard of him. Is that a cartoon?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡±

    ¡°Garfield has his own comic books. They have them at B. Dalton.¡± She informed me with widened eyes. ¡°He¡¯s sooo funny! His comic strip is in the News-Pilot every day, too.¡±

    ¡°No kidding? I¡¯ll have to check that out when I get home!¡± I replied, smiling back with genuine intent.

    Armed with this new intelligence, right after school I walked a half mile to the B. Dalton bookstore near my house. Since the bookstore was my home away from home¡ªmy head could usually be found in the latest baseball card price guide or Mad magazine there¡ªI knew exactly where to go to find the Garfield books. Upon noticing they had all three of those brightly colored comic strip books, I grabbed the one titled ¡°Garfield at Large¡±. While chewing on a piece of gum, I flipped through the pages like a mad scientist to see if I could find the same humor in them Tricia did. With every page, I laughed heartedly finding it to be one of the funniest things I ever read. Inside the much less customer friendly bookstores of 1982, they didn¡¯t have chairs to sit in. As my feet ached halfway through the book, I glanced at my watch to notice a half hour already flew by. Before I could put my nose back in the book, a couple, seemingly in their late thirties, were sneering at me. Upon realizing my laughs were on the boisterous side, I quickly put the book away in the same spot I found it. After apologizing to the ¡°old people¡±, I fled the scene. Although my time at the bookstore was cut short, it turned out to be well spent. I not only learned Tricia had a great sense of humor, I also understood my heart faced an even greater risk¡ªmy feelings for her had grown.

    That night I went home, and two months before the arrival of Halloween, asked my mother if I could have the ¡°Garfield at Large¡± book for Christmas. On Christmas Day, I not only got the book I asked for, but all three of the Garfield comic books available at the time. When I returned to school after the two-week break, I couldn¡¯t wait to talk to Tricia.

    ¡°You have all three?¡± She asked, her eyes alive with disbelief.

    ¡°All three! I couldn¡¯t believe it! They¡¯re hysterical!¡± I replied, meeting her eyes with the same liveliness.

    ¡°You¡¯re so lucky, Landyn! I only have the first one.¡±

    Upon my news, she put her head on my shoulder and kept it there for a few seconds before lifting it and smiling at me. That entire day I was on cloud nine, but also felt bad for her. Before class started, our teachers read off a list of students who had birthdays in January, and Tricia was part of the group. I had been saving up for a Colecovision video game system, but decided to use the money on something else¡ªthe two Garfield books Tricia didn¡¯t have. The only problem was that her birthday party would be an ¡°all-girls¡± affair, and I wanted to make sure she had them on her birthday. A bigger problem though? I was a big chicken; extremely shy and feared rejection. I really liked Tricia and I ached for her to feel the same way I did. At eleven, I already felt rejected by my own father so it felt natural to dread her judgment but also the verdicts of classmates who were certain to find humor in it. But I had to let her know I liked her more than a friend¡ªit ate me up too much not to. Garfield was the bridge to her heart.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    I wanted to thank her for the happiness she gave me, but the act of getting this gift to her took on a life all its own. I played baseball every day with Vance and Greg, and we spent most of the day talking about Tricia. We often talked about ¡°going around¡± with her, who we thought she liked and who she could care less for. We were decent looking guys; Vance was the tallest with a slim build, thin wavy dark brown hair, a long pale face, and green eyes. Greg was my height but weighed the most out of the three of us. He had thick short black hair, a rounded face, brown eyes, and a stout build. In our sixth-grade class, Greg was the funniest, Vance was the smartest, and I was elected its President. It also didn¡¯t hurt we were the best athletes at our school and were usually picked first or second on teams most of the time. We were all well-liked, and that gave us each an equal chance to win Tricia over. One day out on the baseball field, we got caught up in a conversation about her upcoming birthday party.

    ¡°Hey guys, do you know how old Tricia¡¯s gonna be?¡± Greg asked us as Vance and I retrieved our mitts to take our turn in the field.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Eleven?¡± Vance said as he made his way to the mound. ¡°Do you know, Land?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s turning twelve.¡± I replied without hesitation.

    ¡°Ooh la la! I hooked me an older woman!¡± Declared Greg as he moved his hips in a circular motion while swirling the bat above his head before he entered the batter¡¯s box. ¡°I¡¯m gonna ask Tricia if I can go to her party.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an ¡®all-girls¡¯ party, Greggy.¡± I informed him before putting the catcher¡¯s mask on then squatting behind the plate.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Greg said, shaking his head. ¡°She¡¯s gonna be my girlfriend soon anyway.¡±

    I had to stand up to catch Vance¡¯s high fastball as he threw Greg a little chin music after what he said.

    ¡°We can tell how much she likes you every time she pushes your arm off of her!¡± Vance yelled as I threw him back the ball.

    ¡°Did ya get her somethin¡¯?¡± I asked as Greg stood outside of the batter¡¯s box.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hit me, Vance!¡± Greg shouted, pointing the bat at Vance before stepping back in the box. ¡°No. Did you?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I unwittingly replied then quickly reversing course. ¡°I mean¡­no. Why would I buy her a gift? I wasn¡¯t even invited to her party.¡±

    Vance suddenly slammed his glove to the ground.

    ¡°Oh, come on! Did Landyn say he got her a gift?¡± Vance asked.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± roared Greg. ¡°He did!¡±

    ¡°No dammit! I didn¡¯t!¡± I bellowed, throwing off my mask to make sure Vance heard me. ¡°He¡¯s lying! I didn¡¯t get her anythin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Yeah right! I know you got her a gift!¡± Greg retorted.

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    ¡°Your mom told me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I shot, knowing that moment I was dead to rights. ¡°She did?¡±

    ¡°Mrs. Lastman told you Land got her a gift?¡± Vance yelled as he stood on the mound hands on hips.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Greg laughed.

    ¡°Oh, come on Landyn!¡± Vance yelled throwing his hands in the air before picking up his glove back up.

    ¡°Landyn¡¯s in wuuuuuuuuuv!¡± Teased Greg.

    ¡°What? I¡¯m too young to be in love. Can we just play baseball?¡± I informed them before squatting then putting the catcher¡¯s mask back on.

    Failing to recognize that even among the best of friends, all was fair in love and war, I had to conjure up a plan on how to give Tricia my gift to her. An hour before the start of her party, I planned to simply drop the gift off on her front porch then take off unseen. Someone would have to eventually see it when they arrived at the party and bring it inside.

    An hour before her party began, at eleven in the morning, I reached her house ready to execute my plan. At the moment I arrived though, someone was a step ahead of me¡ªVance Ryan. All we could do was stare at each other without a word. Our brightly colored wrapped gifts in our hands¡ªboth dressed in black in the light of day.

    ¡°What are you doin¡¯ here?¡± Whispered Vance angrily as we both stooped down to hide behind a car parked directly across the street from Tricia¡¯s house.

    ¡°What am I doing here? I¡¯m the one who got her a gift.¡± I reminded him.

    ¡°Yeah, well I got her one too. Thanks a lot, by the way!¡± He revealed. ¡°How do ya wanna to do this? Do you want me to go to her door first or should we just go together?¡±

    ¡°I was just gonna drop it off on her front porch and leave.¡±

    ¡°What? That¡¯s insane! Why would ya do that? Don¡¯t ya wanna see her?¡±

    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t invited and thought that would be a lame way to kind of invite myself¡ªyou know¡ªjust showin¡¯ up with a gift. It might make her feel bad she didn¡¯t invite me.¡± I explained, my eyes fixated on her home. ¡°I didn¡¯t wanna be a pity invite.¡±

    ¡°Good point.¡± Vance whispered. ¡°Okay. How do ya wanna do this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± I told him.

    As the reality of the moment became too real for me, I got cold feet just before we executed my plan. The fear of rejection hit me out of nowhere as my birthday gift surprise didn¡¯t seem like much of one anymore.

    ¡°You know what¡­I can¡¯t do it, Vance. I¡¯ll just walk up to Park Plaza later on today and get a refund.¡± I conceded. ¡°I¡¯m cravin¡¯ one of those banana splits from Newberry¡¯s anyway.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s crazy talk.¡± Vance shot back as he snatched the gift from my hands. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    With two gifts, both about the same size tucked under his right arm, he slowly snuck across the street and to the front porch of her house. I nearly blew our cover though, struggling to hold back my laughter when I saw him tip-toe in broad daylight on a quiet street¡ªas if Tricia, or anyone else, could hear his footsteps. When he reached the front porch, he dipped his tall lanky frame to the ground in fear of being seen through their porch window. After laying the gifts down, he dropped to his stomach and crawled off her brick porch as if he took on enemy fire. When he cleared the porch, he jumped to his feet and made a break for it¡ªa full on sprint back to our foxhole behind the parked car.

    ¡°What so funny?¡± Vance asked when he reappeared.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but that was one of the funniest things I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± I whispered, unable to stop smiling. ¡°Thanks for doin¡¯ that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I could provide ya with some comedy relief.¡± He whispered back. ¡°Do you think anyone saw me?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°Good! Let¡¯s get outta here!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I said but as I rose, Vance shoved me back down.

    ¡°Dude.¡± he groaned, pointing straight ahead through the parked car¡¯s window. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna believe who just showed up.¡±

    ¡°Aw, man. Did ya tell him?¡± I groaned upon seeing Greg on the opposite side of the street with a wrapped gift under his arm.

    ¡°No way.¡± He replied, chuckling. ¡°Look Land, he¡¯s actually goin¡¯ to the front door.¡±

    ¡°He is?¡±

    When Greg appeared a minute after Vance dropped off our gifts, we hid from his view and waited to see what he would do. Without any hesitation, he went straight for her front door. After ringing the doorbell, just ten seconds passed before Tricia¡¯s mother greeted him. Like a meteor streaking across the sky, we watched with our mouths agape as Greg strolled past our gifts and right inside her house. In disbelief and disappointment, we stood up from behind the parked car but quickly dropped to the ground when Mrs. Holland suddenly reappeared. We watched her spot our gifts then look around. She then shook her head, picked them up and went back inside. When we heard the door slam, our feelings were bittersweet. We were relieved our gifts infiltrated the Holland compound, but stunned that Greg was now with our girl.

    ¡°You still goin¡¯ to Newberry¡¯s for a banana split?¡± Vance asked.

    ¡°I was gonna go to B. Dalton too. Wanna go?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll join ya.¡± He replied as we both dealt with the dramatic turn of events. ¡°I think I need to read those Garfield books now.¡±

    Not even a banana split could help shorten the longest weekend of my eleven years of life. All I could do was hope my gift meant the most to her when Monday arrived. My hands were so sweaty, my lunch box nearly slipped out of them before I made it to school that morning. As I stood outside just before class, a light tap graced my shoulder. When I turned around, Tricia stood before me.

    ¡°Thank you sooo much for the books! I read both of them this weekend! I couldn¡¯t put them down!¡± She exclaimed, handing me a small card. ¡°I wanted to call you to say thanks, but I don¡¯t have your number so I got you a ¡®thank you¡¯ card.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so happy you liked them! I just had to get them for you. You didn¡¯t have to get me a card, but thank you and you¡¯re welcome.¡± I said with a nervous smile, holding onto the card tightly. ¡°Happy Birthday, Tri¡ª¡±

    Before I could finish my sentence, she wrapped her arms around me and put her lips to my cheek. Standing in absolute shock, I quickly embraced her too. This wasn¡¯t something she did outside before school in front of just the sixth-grade class, but the entire school. I refused to be the first to let go, but when the school bell rang five seconds later, she did just that¡ªtaking a part of me with her. Although it was for only a brief moment, my heart beat became irregular. Seeing how many times she shoved Greg¡¯s arm off of her, her hug and kiss had to mean something. As the morning hours progressed at a snail pace, I couldn¡¯t concentrate on the day¡¯s lesson. All I could do was daydream about having a girlfriend and the fun we had in store together. It was all planned out in my head too¡ªhand in hand, walking to B. Dalton together from her house. Tricia riding her bike up to my house so we could spend the day together on forbidden jaunts outside of our neighborhood. Watching me play baseball at the park with Vance and Greg. I even dreamt of her in the stands at my park¡¯s recreational league baseball games. I¡¯m sure I¡¯d hit a few home runs and have a higher batting average knowing she was watching. I was also willing to be there for anything she did too, and to be her biggest fan. Her card never left my hand that morning as I imagined it was her hand in mine.

    When the bell rang for lunch, I couldn¡¯t wait to ask Tricia if she wanted to do something after school. While grabbing my lunch tray though, it seemed she was already dining with someone else¡ªGreg. Considering Tricia¡¯s show of affection for me, she likely only hung out with him to let him down easy¡ªand maybe to ask him questions about me. I then opted to sit with Vance and another group of boys and girls instead. Vance filled me in that Tricia gave him a thank you card too, but one that came without a hug or a kiss. At the table, I overheard a girl say that ¡°Greg loves Tricia¡± and I began to feel bad for him. He was the most vocal about the way he felt about her and was brave enough to put himself out there. In fact, I wished to have been more like Greg, but my mind wouldn¡¯t allow me to. If I were to interrupt his lunch to tell him that ¡°Tricia and I are now going around.¡±, nothing could be more arrogant of me. Part of the fun of ¡°going around¡± with Tricia was being able to hang out with Vance and Greg with her. As they sat together at lunch, I only hoped she was letting my good friend down softly.

    After finishing lunch and putting my tray away, I headed towards them. Upon reaching them, she didn¡¯t even notice me. It was then she tacitly informed me whose gift meant the most to her¡ªher hand falling inside his. As they walked off in the opposite direction, I did the same. I remember looking down, my eyes following the weed-ridden cracked asphalt below trying hard not to cry. That afternoon in class, the longest of my life, it was the news of the day¡ªGreg and Tricia were now ¡°going around¡±. More official than that particular public service announcement, was that at eleven years old, I experienced my first heartbreak.

    When the bell rang for the final time that day, Greg and his prize walked towards Vance and me with a wide smile, giving us both the thumbs up sign as he walked by. While Vance gave him the finger, I instead returned his thumbs up with a smile and then one of my own. After school, I just went to my room, came out when my mom had dinner ready, finished my homework, and then fell asleep. For a while school was pretty tough to get through, but after a few weeks passed, I started to feel better. A few months later, Greg and Tricia broke up because she liked some other boy from another school. I never rooted for things not to work out between them. Greg was one of my best friends, and Tricia clearly had good taste. After she chose him over me though, I lost all I ever felt for her. My friendship with Tricia fell apart after she broke up with Greg, signaling the end of my first emotional experience with the opposite sex. Although losing a part of my innocence, I learned how great it felt to have feelings for someone¡ªbetter than I ever imagined. There were too many planets out there to remain sad about the loss of one. At least, that¡¯s what I believed.

 CHAPTER 9 ~ WHO WE ARE

    I had a few more crushes during my junior high and high school days, but was never popular enough to make them more than unrequited feelings. In the eighth grade, while playing basketball, I tripped on a fast break and my right knee struck the side of my left leg. For most kids, this wouldn¡¯t have been a big deal, but for a kid who had the same genetic condition my mother had, Osteochondroma, it was. I limped around for a couple of days and all seemed normal. Then one morning I woke up in fear¡ªthe small bone on the inside of my left knee had ballooned to the size of a tennis ball. Since my father was paying for my braces and the growth was non-cancerous, we had to put off my surgery until the tenth grade. As I battled issues of self-worthlessness, I wore my socks past my knees to hide the defect from the very same people who already called me ¡°Brace Face¡±. Every crush I had in junior high I just kept to myself to avoid the inevitable.

    When I had surgery in the tenth grade, and my braces were removed, I felt like a new person. There were several girls I was interested in dating at my high school and I couldn¡¯t wait to throw my hat in the ring again. On the street to happiness though, I ran into an unforeseen road block¡ªI didn¡¯t have a car. It also seemed every girl I liked was drawn to the coolest guys in school¡ªthe boys who had one. What made matters even worse was that my high school was also near a prestigious private school. Not only did I have to compete with guys from my school, but also the dudes from the private school who drove around in their parent¡¯s Mercedes and BMWs. As I watched the girls I liked, one by one, riding shotgun in someone else¡¯s dream, I put mine on hold until I could offer the same.

    I had many friends who were girls throughout my high school years, but never one I could call my ¡°girlfriend¡±. It was especially hard to hear the ones I liked were dating someone else, and even tougher to witness them holding hands on their way to class or kissing in the hall. It seemed they all had big plans each weekend while I felt frozen in time. I was in touch with everything that happened around me, but at the same time completely out of touch as well. I was never bullied in school and for the most part I was well-liked, but not having a car rendered my road to popularity impassable. I then got caught up with everything around me. I watched other guys, unburdened by timing, not only get the girls they desired, but live the lives they wanted too. It seemed everyone my age had an island they went to every day, but I missed the boat and had to swim to catch up with them. Although I felt like an outcast, I never pierced my ears, got a tattoo, or even grew my hair long to carve out my own identity. I felt removed from life, and the more I felt that way, the more my grades tumbled¡ªso considerably that I ruined any chance I had to get into a decent college.

    To add insult to my feelings of inadequacy, during an event in the school¡¯s auditorium, I won a free tuxedo from a local tux shop for the high school prom. My good friends applauded me as I made the long nervous walk to the front stage to retrieve the gift certificate, but I also heard the laughter from those who knew I had no one to go with. I gave the prize to one of my friends who actually had a date, but I couldn¡¯t deny how much it weighed on me¡ªthat even at the age of eighteen, I still never had a girlfriend. Although I believed in true love, I couldn¡¯t have prepared myself for the truth that now faced me¡ªthat I couldn¡¯t even ask a girl out on a date because I had nothing to offer them. I grew up with a low sense of self, and the years spent from elementary to high school only built upon my feelings of worthlessness. Although it left me greatly discouraged, I saw the love around me and kept faith in my dream¡ªthe only outlet I had to escape my cold existence.

    On the day of my high school graduation, my graduating class partied into the night, but without a ride to these festivities, I felt forgotten¡ªleft at home with my parents and a dream gone unrealized. As I sat in my room alone and thought of the fun my friends were having without me, I feared a possible outcome I never considered before¡ªthat when I died, I could be buried next to no one. On the lowest night of my life, a night I always envisioned I¡¯d spend joyously in a celebratory environment with my girlfriend and our friends, I vowed to make good on my dream. I would prove to those women I liked, who saw no value in me, that their perception of me was pure deception¡ªthat there was more to me than just what their eyes told them. I realized I made a huge mistake during my twelfth-grade year¡ªI had given no real thought about college or what I planned to do with my life. I believed in love so much and that I¡¯d have it by this time, I thought it would naturally carry me to where I needed to go. The problem was I got so caught up in my disappointment when it didn¡¯t happen, I never considered the consequences the day my future arrived.

    I also lived in a port city where a six-figure salary awaited high school graduates in the form of longshoring jobs. Its high pay made college an afterthought for most of the kids at my high school, and the only college promotion the school did was for its magnet program students. Longshoring was a great gig for some people, if not for most people who lived in Harbor City. They had a strong union, great benefits, and paid extremely well, but there was a reason for that¡ªthe job came with great physical risk. The workers with their boots on the ground at times clocked in high on drugs, and if they supervised a job you were on, your life would be put in their reckless hands. There were many instances of longshoremen losing their limbs and their lives¡ªcrushed by ten-ton cans because their supervisor was too high to keep them out of harm¡¯s way, or they were too high to stay out of it. Even though my father pushed me to be a longshoreman after high school and the harbor was just a couple of miles away, I never saw it in my dreams. If I got into longshoring only for the money, then I would be better off owning the company that shipped the goods to be unloaded off the ships and trucks, and not be its at-risk labor. If you took the money away, the job was not only dangerous but also uninspiring. You also had to work a ton of hours just to make the six-figure salary. I preferred to work in a career where there was no real limit to your income potential but also didn¡¯t require an eighty-hour work week. I just needed to find something I enjoyed doing. Once I found that, the money would naturally follow. If I wanted the love I always believed in as well, I had to find a career that not only brought me enough money to take care of someone, but also gave me the time to be happy so I could be a provider of both.

    Settling on the right career path was no easy task. I had no time to be wishy-washy because my father wanted me out of the house after I graduated high school. In his eyes, I overstayed my welcome so I felt pressured to go with what I felt most comfortable with, regardless of its practicality. I had always found math to be boring and cumbersome so I steered myself away from any careers that required college level math courses. My strength though was English¡ªI always did well in reading comprehension and writing. I got an ¡®A¡¯ on nearly every paper I wrote simply because I loved to read. Being transported to a different place appealed to my dreaming and critical nature. In my senior year, I was assigned to read a book called ¡°The French Lieutenant¡¯s Woman¡± by John Fowles. When I saw parts of myself through the novel¡¯s main character, Sarah Woodruff, it blew me away that a writer could get a male reader to relate to its female character. After I recalled enjoying this novel in high school, I took my passion for reading a step further¡ªI wanted to be a novelist one day. I thought it was a unique way to carve out a name for myself and to prove people wrong about me. I didn¡¯t know anyone in town who aspired to be a writer or considered it as a career choice¡ªthe reason for its allure. A few months after I graduated high school, my father wondered what I planned to do with my life, and I gave him my answer¡ªI wanted to be a best-selling author. When I shared this very unique and ambitious dream of mine, he did what any supportive parent would do¡ªhe laughed at me. Since I needed to be knocked down another peg after all the confidence he instilled in me over the years, he then grabbed a tiny piece of chalk and wrote his prediction for my future on the small black chalkboard in the kitchen.

    LANDYN DOES NOT MAKE COLLEGE

    Even after all the times he called me a ¡°failure¡± and how I¡¯d never amount to anything, because I was nothing, it was still a revelation for me. Not only did my father believe I couldn¡¯t graduate from college¡ªhe didn¡¯t believe I could get in. Even after I sported a three-point-two grade point average from first to twelfth grade, I still wasn¡¯t smart enough to get into college, let alone be a novelist. He never planned to pay for my college education, nor did he ever offer to¡ªI would have to work and go to school full-time with no guarantees. Even when I was willing to put in that much work, I still failed to garner his support. It seemed a part of him wanted to see me struggle like he did¡ªthe only way to earn his respect. No one in our family ever graduated from college, but it was why our family always struggled in life¡ªwhy he could never see me as an investment and only as a burden.

    I was not a lazy person and always tried my best at everything I was asked to do, but my father thought I was both lazy and unmotivated. He gathered this view of me because whenever he did yardwork, I always had other things to do. He then assumed I didn¡¯t like yardwork because I was lazy and not because I would have to pull weeds for two to three hours in ninety-degree heat. Not to mention, since my father loved working in the yard, he didn¡¯t pay for a gardener like all the other neighbors did. In his eyes though, I was lazy for not having a passion for gardening. When I laid out a goal for myself, I was far from lazy and extremely diligent and disciplined¡ªa few things about me I do owe to my father. Upon revealing my desire to get an English degree, he thought I was ¡°dumb¡± for not taking the six-figure salary on the docks as a longshoreman. I could make all the money in the world, but if I didn¡¯t enjoy what I did and my well-being wasn¡¯t intact, how could my life ever be? While it sounded ¡°dumb¡± to him because I wouldn¡¯t have to spend money on a degree, I could make a lot more money over the long run if I devoted the time to my dream instead. My father didn¡¯t give me a bad life, but I didn¡¯t want to start a family from the same hole he did. If I had a wife with a baby on the way, I could understand it being a ¡°dumb¡± decision to turn away the longshoring income. Unlike my father though, I had a clean slate to work from and one other thing¡ªI had a chance to go for my dream.

    However, my father¡¯s methods of motivation threatened to destroy my rediscovered drive and ambition. All I ever heard growing up was all the things I could never do, and never the things I could. He wouldn¡¯t allow me to even mow the lawn when he worked in the yard¡ªhe only let me pull the weeds and hold the dustpan for him. With little faith and confidence in my capabilities, he eventually chipped away at my ability to believe in myself. I even feared the minute I went for my dream, the very minute before I reached it, he would kick me out of the house so that I¡¯d have no chance to prove his words nonprophetic. My biggest challenge was not getting into college, nor even getting a degree¡ªbut to somehow overcome the worthlessness he instilled in me that I believed in as much as the sunrise. I had to step outside my comfort zone and do the things others weren¡¯t willing to do. As mandatory to life as the dawn¡ªI had to be successful.

    I first saved up enough money to buy my first car¡ªa used 1987 gold metallic Toyota Tercel, and began my journey at a local junior college, a place I was not only accepted to, but graduated with an Associate¡¯s degree after three years. I then transferred to California State University, Long Beach where I maintained a full-time work and school schedule. In my senior year, a mere year away from obtaining a Bachelor¡¯s degree in English, I hit a bump in the road. I had to face a hard truth¡ªto be a novelist, I needed something to write about, and I had nothing but a dream and credit card debt. If I had any real chance to be a novelist and to pay off my college tuition, I needed to switch to a major that provided a good starting salary right out the gate. I didn¡¯t need an English degree to be a writer, but I couldn¡¯t be a writer under a mountain of debt. If I wanted to be an aspiring novelist who taught high school English, I could stick it out and get the English degree. However, it would take me at least ten years to pay off my college tuition debt, and I was already twenty-five. I hated to take a step backward and was already behind all of my friends who graduated college two years earlier. Not to mention that my father made my life miserable at home because he wanted me out so badly. When a friend of mine offered me a room to rent for only two hundred dollars a month, I moved out and made my decision¡ªto go back to junior college to take my lower division courses and then transfer back to the University to get a degree in Business.

    My interest in business grew over the five years I spent working at Frugals¡ªa retail drug store who employed me during my senior year in high school. As I swept and mopped the floors at night and got summoned to the hand dip counter serving ten cent single scoop ice cream cones to kids and their parents, I paid attention to the person who didn¡¯t do any of those things¡ªthe manager of the store who wasn¡¯t intimidated by math. Each night, I watched the manager retreat to the office with his daily reports while everyone else did all the things they didn¡¯t want to do. With my low sense of self-worth in tow, and so close to a degree in English, I feared I could end up living the same life they did¡ªas corporate sheep.

    When I informed my boss, Frugals store manager Mark Warner, of my decision to change majors and to pursue a degree in business, he implored me to quit school altogether. I could step right into a fifty-thousand dollar a year assistant management position at Frugals¡ªa spot that would make me his right-hand man. Mark was a great boss to work for, but I saw the toll the management position took on him. In contrast to his five-foot ten inches in height, he was at least fifty pounds overweight and had thin dark hair that I never witnessed in place. He ran around the store non-stop and always wore coffee and sweat-stained wrinkled shirts. His body odor suggested he had no time to shower in the morning and large circles hung below his thirty-year old dark brown eyes on a face that rarely smiled. Although I only made six-fifty an hour and could use the significant jump in compensation to help pay off my credit card debt, I gave it very little consideration.

    One day during an inventory inspection, the District Manager at Frugals and Mark¡¯s boss, Dan Stokely, paid a surprise visit to the store. I had never seen him in person up until this moment, but heard plenty about him¡ªhe was well-known for his short fuse and no-nonsense approach. To see him visit during an inventory inspection alarmed us all because it was something he never did. And if he ever visited, he did so for only one purpose¡ªto fire someone. When he approached me while I inputted the week¡¯s hair products order, I thought I was next on his hit list. As he stood before me, he appeared to be in his early sixties and stood about five feet from the ground. He had an average build with pearly, thinning white hair as the color of his blue eyes was enhanced through the bifocals he wore. When he extended out his hand, I noticed he wore gold cufflinks that complemented his navy-blue Armani suit he sported over a tieless white-collared shirt.

    ¡°Lastman? Landyn?¡± He asked. ¡°Stokely. Dan. Dan Stokely.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± I nodded as I shook his hand. ¡°Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stokely.¡±

    ¡°Mark tells me a lot of good things about you.¡± He informed me.

    ¡°He did? Well, that¡¯s really nice of him to say. I¡¯m just doing my job.¡± I replied as my heart began to race.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s my job to pay attention to the numbers.¡± He stated. ¡°When I gave Mark this store last year, I did so because there were less expectations here. Historically, the store has underperformed. We even had discussions about closing it down¡ªit¡¯s been in the red each of the last eight years.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s really interesting.¡± I said unsure of what ¡°in the red¡± meant.

    ¡°Since you and Mark arrived here six months ago, inventory levels have dropped, sales have increased, and gross profit is up fourteen percent. At this time last year, it was down sixty-four percent. That¡¯s a huge difference, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty cool.¡± I acknowledged not truly knowing the significance of the numbers he gave me.

    ¡°After eight straight years of bleeding, it¡¯s nothing short of a miracle.¡± He exclaimed. ¡°Do you handle all the ordering?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± I said as I felt sweat trickle down my arm.

    ¡°Mike told me you¡¯re also responsible for the sale displays and for managing the stockroom.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±

    ¡°Six months ago, I couldn¡¯t even walk in the stockroom¡ªit was packed solid with overstock.¡± He said.

    ¡°Um¡­it really wasn¡¯t overstock, Mr. Stokely.¡± I said.

    ¡°What?¡± He yelled.

    ¡°Well¡­Umm¡­you can¡¯t sell anything from the stockroom. You have to get it out on the floor.¡± I said nervously. ¡°I¡¯ve worked really hard to not overorder and to make sure the merchandise is always out on the floor¡ªnot in the stockroom where our customers aren¡¯t. I¡¯ve had to be creative to find the space out on the floor, but I was able to.¡±

    I did a lot at the store. I pulled the ordered merchandise off the truck weekly. Got all products on the floor in its proper spot, and made sure it stood up like soldiers. I made sure all the items on sale that week were displayed in the front of the store so they could easily be found. I also brought out the older stock, once believed to be unsellable, and set up a discounted item display for it. Since I did all the ordering, with the exception of cosmetics, I knew nearly every item the store carried. I even worked all night on inventory counts and still made it to school in the morning. Mark had a ¡°hands-off¡± management style and never instructed me to do what I did¡ªit just came naturally for me. I enjoyed my role at the store and after Dan told me he noticed the difference since I arrived, for the first time in my life I felt valued. At already twenty-five years old, I was anxious to prove I amounted to something in life.

    ¡°You should think about a career in retail management. You seem to have a natural understanding of the business.¡± Dan then said to me. ¡°You should know we have an excellent management training program here at Frugals.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard nothing but great things about it.¡± I said as I met his extended hand once more. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Stokely. I¡¯ll definitely give it some consideration.¡±

    I was honored but unsure if Frugals was the right place for me¡ªit was a high-risk position with Dan Stokely in charge. I also feared a management position would require me to work more than I already did. My work-life balance was already non-existent, and if things carried on this way, I¡¯d never fulfill the dream I cared most about¡ªto have a family one day born of love. In order to mask my low self-worth, I hid behind my career and the lives of others¡ªall in anticipation of the day I could offer something beautiful to the girl of my dreams. I just had to remain patient¡ªa hard thing to do when I witnessed my best friends find the love I always looked for. It seemed the only way I found time to meet someone was at their weddings. Although I couldn¡¯t have been happier for my friends who found love, disenchantment took up residence in my heart with each speech and toast I made¡ªoften as the best man in their weddings. With each new love a friend found, my father¡¯s words resonated louder within to remind me why I wasn¡¯t worthy of love. To remind me of the circumstances behind my birth¡ªan accident that became an obligation.

    With a full-time work and school schedule, I found a work-life balance through the people I spent my time with the most¡ªmy co-workers. One of those co-workers was Mick Jones, a wiry but diminutive brown-haired male. The year was 1990, but he sported it with a mullet that partied hard in the back but was hung over in the front. He had a diamond-shaped head that housed his light green eyes under a pair of half-pulled down natural skin shades. He also donned a sporadic brown moustache above a tiny mouth that contained two rows of mostly brown teeth. When I first met him, I thought my boss hired him through a government-mandated program because he appeared to be a slow adult or possibly disabled, but he was neither.

    I rarely worked with Mick when he first started, but I heard from Mark that during his first week, he called every female customer or co-worker, ¡°Sweetie¡±. After a month passed, everyone just started calling him ¡°Sweetie¡±¡ªa moniker that fit him perfectly. While he never gave the impression he would surprise us on an intelligence quotient test, we soon learned what he lacked in brain power he more than made up for with his work ethic and attitude. He not only walked a mile to work, but hustled all day when he got there¡ªsometimes for even ten hours at a time. Then two nights a week, on his off days at Frugals, he also worked as a waiter at Charley¡¯s Diner just a few blocks away until five in the morning. In my eyes, he was not just ¡°Sweetie¡± but also Superman. The first time I got to actually work with him, I decided to make some small talk as we assembled a paper towel display. The only thing I knew about him was that he lived with his older sister whose boyfriend left her after she had his baby.

    ¡°You look a little tired today.¡± I said. ¡°Long night at the diner?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­I didn¡¯t get home til¡¯ seven this mornin¡¯.¡± He said in his usual soft spoken and nasally tone.

    ¡°What time did ya start?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Eight-thirty.¡±

    ¡°Do you usually get any sleep on the mornings you have to be here¡ªafter you get off at the diner?¡±

    ¡°I usually get an hour or two.¡± He yawned. ¡°But I didn¡¯t sleep at all this mornin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°If you want to, you can pull out a chaise lounge cushion from upstairs in the stockroom to lie down on¡ªno one can see you up there.¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯ll cover for you if wanna sneak a nap in for an hour. I wouldn¡¯t want you to get hurt out here because you¡¯re half awake.¡±

    ¡°Thanks Land, but I¡¯ll be okay.¡± He replied as he yawned again.

    ¡°Well, the offer¡¯s on the table.¡± I said. ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Are you workin¡¯ two jobs to support your sister and your nephew?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No.¡± He responded. ¡°My sister works too¡ªI only help her out if she needs it.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Oh! I thought you were takin¡¯ care of them?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Not really at all.¡± He said.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s great you¡¯re workin¡¯ two jobs so you can afford a car.¡± I then said. ¡°The way you¡¯re goin¡¯, you¡¯re gonna have a really nice one.¡±

    ¡°A car? Oh no, Landyn. I¡¯m okay with walkin¡¯ for now.¡± He said.

    ¡°Oh¡­then you must be workin¡¯ these jobs so you can get your own place?¡± I asked. ¡°Tired of livin¡¯ with your sister, huh?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± He yawned again as he cut open one of the cases of paper towels and began to hand them to me.

    ¡°Then why are you workin¡¯ two jobs for, Mick?¡± I asked as I stacked the paper towels on the bayend. ¡°Are the tips that good there?¡±

    ¡°The tips are just okay.¡± He said as he handed me the last paper towel from the case and began to open another.

    ¡°Are you savin¡¯ up to go to school?¡± I asked as I exhausted all other options.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d like to take the ASVAB, but I¡¯m not workin¡¯ here and at Charley¡¯s to go back to school.¡± He said as he handed me two paper towels from the case he just opened.

    ¡°Why are you killin¡¯ yourself then?¡± I asked. ¡°I go to school and work full-time but I¡¯m never as tired as you must feel right now. Why work two jobs when you don¡¯t really have to?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I have to work two jobs.¡± He said. ¡°It¡¯s because of my mother.¡±

    ¡°Ah! You have one of those too, I see.¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re the son of the year for helpin¡¯ her out like that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not helpin¡¯ out my mom, Land¡ªshe died nine years ago.¡± He said as he held on to the last paper towel from the case. ¡°She still doesn¡¯t have a headstone. I¡¯m workin¡¯ this second job so I can buy her one.¡±

    When he told me the reason why he came to work ready to fall face down on the cold tile floor in exhaustion, it choked me up. I then put my hand on his shoulder and kept it there for a few seconds as I spoke to him.

    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry to hear that.¡± I told him. ¡°I don¡¯t know much in life, Mick, but I¡¯m certain you make your mom proud every day, bud.¡±

    He nodded his head and smiled at me.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t tell anyone.¡± He said as he handed me the last paper towel from the case. ¡°I would like to keep it between us.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. You bet.¡± I said.

    As we continued to work on the paper towel display, I lightened the mood and even asked him if he ever had a girlfriend before. When he told me ¡°no¡±, I didn¡¯t feel so bad about my dream not coming true as of yet. When he asked me not to tell anyone he didn¡¯t have a girlfriend and to keep it between us, I told him I would¡ªas long as he didn¡¯t tell anyone I didn¡¯t have one either. After we finished the display, I finally convinced him to take a nap upstairs and even covered him for two hours while he got some needed rest.

    From that point forward, I asked Mark if he could assign Mick to work with me in the stockroom. I did the work of two people and needed the help, and he didn¡¯t hesitate to grant my request. I then took Mick under my wing, and taught him all I knew. I gave him pointers on how best he could manage his time and what he could do to impress our boss. Every Friday night at eleven, Mick and I were responsible for unloading thirty plus cages of merchandise off a two-trailer truck. Our shifts would start at six and last until three in the morning. Before Mick was hired, only the night manager and I unloaded the truck each week, but the night manager had to also close the store. Since the store closed at ten, it usually took them until midnight to reconcile the daily cash with the report. Mr. Stokely wanted his managers to focus on the daily closing procedures and not be burdened with the late-night shipment. This usually left me as a one-man show until ¡°Sweetie¡± was assigned to the team. On the first Friday night we worked together, a new manager, Samantha Brooks, was also assigned to work with us. After I warned Mick it would probably only be us pulling cages off the truck, his facial expression morphed into one of disappointment.

    ¡°Can I tell you somethin¡¯, Land?¡± Mick asked as he motioned for me to follow him inside the stockroom.

    ¡°Sure, Mick.¡± I said reluctantly as I hoped he didn¡¯t plan to quit on his first night. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    He then continued to lure me deeper into the stockroom until he stopped behind at least fifteen cases of Bounty paper towels and well obscured from anyone¡¯s view.

    ¡°Do you think anyone can hear us in here?¡± He whispered to me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone can find us in here.¡± I whispered back. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I have feelins¡¯ for Samantha.¡± He confided.

    ¡°You do? Really?¡± I blurted loudly as I tried to hold in my laughter. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Landyn! Shhh!¡± He loudly whispered to scold me. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m sure¡ªshe¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to minimize his feelings for her, but if they were both Disney characters, Samantha was Maleficent, and Mick was Bambi. Not to mention, she was also built and roared like a diesel truck while Mick was constructed and purred like a VW bug. Mick¡¯s feelings for her caught me by complete surprise simply because they couldn¡¯t have been more different from each other. I tried not to laugh, but when I imagined the bedroom scene¡ªSamantha with a whip in her hand as Mick emerged from the closet with a ball in his mouth, I almost lost it.

    ¡°How long have you liked her?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Since the moment I laid eyes on her.¡± He said as his eyes trailed off to somewhere behind me.

    ¡°So¡­for about three days then?¡± I calculated as I looked behind me to see where his eyes went.

    ¡°Pretty much.¡± He said as I turned to face him, his eyes back on me.

    ¡°Do you think about her a lot?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I often do.¡± He replied. ¡°Pretty much all day long.¡±

    ¡°Seriously? All day long?¡±

    ¡°Landyn! Shhh!¡± He said as he shook his head with his eyes closed. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m dead serious.¡±

    ¡°So, over the last seventy-two hours all you¡¯ve thought about¡­is Samantha?¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Yes. I think I¡¯m in love with her.¡± He whispered back as once again his eyes drifted off behind and above me.

    ¡°You what?! You love her?!¡± I partially whispered.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He said as his eyes returned to me again. ¡°She¡¯s the woman of my dreams.¡±

    ¡°Samantha.¡± I sternly whispered.

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± He replied.

    ¡°Samantha?¡± I whispered again.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°The Samantha out there?¡± I said, pointing to outside the stockroom.

    ¡°Yes, Landyn. The Samantha we work with.¡± He said as his eyes then trailed off behind me into space yet again. ¡°I love her very much.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Mick. Over here, buddy.¡± I whispered as I snapped my fingers.

    ¡°Huh? Oh, sorry.¡± He said as he returned back to earth from the cloud that hovered above and behind us somewhere in the stockroom.

    The oddity of their pairing overwhelmed me when I considered that the ¡°man¡± in Samantha provided a clue into who would rule the relationship. Sweetie would want to court her, but I knew the resistance he faced with Ms. Brooks. I then got myself together and tried to put myself in his shoes. I had no right to judge what made him happy or who he had feelings for. I just believed he could do better than her, and I was certain she would put him through the ringer. The very moment Sweetie called her ¡°Sweetie¡±; she would chew his heart up and spit it out. Although I wanted to steer him away from her, the look in his eyes told me he didn¡¯t tell me these things for my opinion.

    I blamed Mick¡¯s feelings for Samantha on myself. Friday nights was usually a tough night for me to work on¡ªa night usually spent with friends. I had to work on the weekends though so I could attend my classes on the weekdays¡ªto earn my degree the quickest way possible. I also worked full-time to retain my medical benefits and make enough money to escape my father¡¯s regime. At twenty-five, I expected to be in love and building a life with someone. I felt that each Friday night I worked, I missed out on a chance to find that. How I lost a potential soulmate every Friday night I spent at work¡ªto someone who probably didn¡¯t deserve her. As those lonely Friday nights left me distressed, I opened up to Mick about it. In turn, he confided in me about how much he wanted to meet someone too. I then shared with him the bands I liked to listen to on these nights at work on my portable Walkman CD player. I leaned on the music of Boston, Journey, REO Speedwagon, Air Supply, Def Leppard, and The Scorpions to help get me through the lonely nights. When I learned Mick enjoyed them as well, we brought in our CD¡¯s to share that helped us work through the early Saturday morning. No matter what I thought of Mick¡¯s feelings for Samantha, I was certain of one thing¡ªhe felt the same thing I did each time I had a crush. It was a rare feeling and I loved the way that felt too much to take it away from him¡ªespecially when a dream was all I had too.

    ¡°Okay Mick. What are you gonna do about this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Well¡­I was hopin¡¯ you could¡­you know, kinda help me out?¡±

    ¡®Help you out? You don¡¯t need my help. This is your show, Mick!¡± I said as I patted him on the back. ¡°Just put on your ¡°Sweetie¡± charm, and see how she responds.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m too embarrassed to talk to her.¡± He said as his eyes fell to the floor. ¡°I was hopin¡¯ maybe you could kinda get us together some way.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I could ever do that though, Mick. She has free will.¡± I told him. ¡°Do you want her to know how you feel? Is that what you meant? I can help you with that, but do you think it¡¯s a good idea?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I want her to know. She¡¯s my dream girl.¡±

    ¡°But you want me to communicate that to her?¡±

    ¡°I was hopin¡¯.¡± He said as he brought his eyes back up to me.

    It sounded like he had given this some real consideration, and he even gave me a role in it. Although I lacked even a common person¡¯s expertise in match making, he clearly counted on me to come through for him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can get you guys together. It takes two to tango, ya know.¡± I said ¡°But I may be able to make her aware that you like her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I need, Landyn!¡± He responded with excitement. ¡°It¡¯ll mean the world to me!¡±

    ¡°Alright then, let me think of somethin¡¯.¡± I said without a clue how to accomplish the feat. ¡°How soon do you want her to know how you feel about her?¡±

    ¡°Tonight.¡±

    ¡°Tonight?¡± I repeated in disbelief. ¡°Sweetie, you¡¯re killin¡¯ me.¡±

    ¡°But I can¡¯t take it anymore, Land. It¡¯s drivin¡¯ me craaaazy!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. I can¡¯t eat. I can¡¯t sleep. I can¡¯t even do number two.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t eat, sleep, or do number two?¡± I asked as I tried not to laugh. ¡°You don¡¯t sleep as is¡­ and you¡¯re ready to blow too?¡±

    ¡°Land, please keep it down. I¡¯m really embarrassed. I got it really bad.¡± He scolded me and whispered again. ¡°I¡¯m lovesick.¡±

    ¡°Okay, alright. We¡¯ll have you poopin¡¯ again in no time, bud.¡± I said with a smile. ¡°Now, listen. When you¡¯re sweeping the store tonight, stop off at aisle two and pick out a good cologne from the free samples. Splash a little on you, then come see me. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Stop off at aisle two and pick out a good cologne.¡± He said as he nodded in agreement with himself. ¡°I can do that.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s like twenty colognes to choose from over there, but make sure you pick a good one.¡± I said. ¡°Then come see me¡ªI got an idea.¡±

    Mick excitedly nodded and patted me on the back. The store now carried Obsession, Drakkar, and Polo Sport¡ªall fairly popular colognes back in 1992. I then walked out into the general store area and noticed him weaving quickly in and out of aisles with a long dust broom in his hands. I wasn¡¯t sure if the floor was actually being swept at all, but Mick had a bigger fish to fry on this night. I stood on the lookout for Samantha to enter the office, which was right outside the stock room. Fifteen minutes before the store closed, I saw Samantha enter the office to start her nightly closing procedures. I immediately ran over to Mick to let him know it was time to head over to aisle two and to meet me in the stockroom afterwards. When he appeared at our rendezvous point five minutes later, the smell from his cologne of choice slapped me in the face.

    ¡°Uh¡­Mick?¡± I said as we met at our spot in the stockroom¡ªthe same one we met at a half hour earlier.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­did you use the whole bottle?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No. There¡¯s still plenty left¡ªsee?¡± he stated as he put the half-used bottle up to my face. ¡°I like the way it smells so I¡¯m gonna buy it.¡±

    ¡°I told you just a splash¡ªnot to douse yourself with it.¡±

    ¡°It is a good cologne though.¡± He whispered as he closed his eyes again. ¡°I just needed to put a little more on to make sure I smelled good¡ªI¡¯ve been fartin¡¯ all day too.¡±

    ¡°Sure, that makes a lot of sense. Oh hold on, I just got a call¡ªlet me take it really quick.¡± I told him as I brought my cell phone from out of my smock¡¯s pocket and put it to my ear. ¡°Hold on just a second. Hello? Who is this? What do ya want? Oh¡­you wanna talk to Mick Jones? Hold on.¡±

    ¡°Who is it?¡± He asked. ¡°Is it Samantha?¡±

    ¡°No¡­it¡¯s someone from Old Spice.¡± I told him as I covered the phone. ¡°They¡¯re looking for a new spokesperson.¡±

    ¡°Really¡­it¡¯s for me? What¡¯s Old Spice?¡± He asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s that good cologne you drenched yourself in.¡± I said as I put the phone back in my pocket. ¡°Didn¡¯t you see any Jovan Musk or Brut by Faberge over there?¡±

    ¡°Old Spice is a good cologne! You even get a gift with it!¡± He told me as excitement filled his eyes when he showed me the miniature ceramic lighthouse with a clock in the middle of it. ¡°Those other colognes can¡¯t be any good¡ªthey don¡¯t give you anything.¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡­I guess you learn something new every day.¡± I resigned. ¡°Okay, Samantha is in the office by herself right now. Go up there and see if she needs you to do anything else, but you¡¯re only goin¡¯ up there to do one thing.¡±

    ¡°To have sex with her.¡± He stated as he tried to finish my instructions.

    ¡°You wanna have sex with her when you have a three-day poop lodged in you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He said. ¡°It¡¯s best to save that for another time¡ªlike tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Mick, you¡¯re getting way too far ahead of yourself here. This is a lot like baseball¡ªyou have to step inside the batter¡¯s box first before you can slide into home, okay? You¡¯re only goin¡¯ up there to make small talk with her.¡± I instructed. ¡°That¡¯s your mission¡ªjust to start a simple conversation.¡±

    ¡°Small talk? Like what?¡± he asked as he farted. ¡°Whoops¡ªsorry, Land.¡±

    ¡°Like¡­you know, ask her some questions about herself. Somethin¡¯ like do you have any big weekend plans? How¡¯s your son? Did you play the lotto? It¡¯s up to three million dollars¡ªthat sort of thing. Keep it light but fun.¡± I instructed as I held my breath at the same time and waved away the foul odor he produced. ¡°Whoa¡ªneed a second here. My GOD Mick, that was awful. I think my eyes are watering. Okay, where was I? Oh, don¡¯t talk about yourself unless she asks you a question¡ªmake it all about her. Pay her a compliment of some kind. Tell her that her hair looks pretty when it¡¯s greased up that way. You like the way her green smock matches her eyes. You know¡­somethin¡¯ that makes her feel good about herself. You want her to associate you with good feelings so when she sees you, she¡¯ll want to talk to you because you make her feel good about herself. Can you do that?¡±

    ¡°Should I ask her out?¡±

    ¡°No¡ªnot yet. We¡¯ve gotta ease into this.¡± I advised. ¡°You need to make her feel good about herself first. Then when you ask her out, she¡¯ll be more likely to say yes because you make her feel happy.¡±

    ¡°I think I got it!¡± He exclaimed.

    ¡°Okay, but let¡¯s practice really quick.¡± I said. ¡°Pretend I¡¯m Samantha¡ªpay me a compliment.¡±

    ¡°Ummm¡­Hi Samantha, your greasy hair looks really pretty tonight.¡± He said to me.

    ¡°Uh, you know what¡ªmy bad.¡± I told him as I recognized my error. ¡°I think it¡¯s better to leave out the greasy part and just say her hair looks pretty.¡±

    ¡°But you said her greasy hair looked pretty though.¡±

    ¡°I think I gave you an example of what I would say to her.¡± I said.

    ¡°So¡­you think her greasy hair looks pretty, too?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­sure it does¡ªsometimes, but I¡¯m not interested in dating her, Sweetie¡ªyou are.¡± I said as I tried to change the person of emphasis. ¡°It¡¯s time to get up there! Position yourself so you can see me through the office door¡¯s window¡ªI¡¯ll be standin¡¯ and listening in from right outside the office door. I¡¯ll give you a thumbs up sign when you say somethin¡¯ good. If I don¡¯t give you a thumbs up sign¡ªthink of somethin¡¯ else to say. Remember to keep it light and fun. Basically, be the ¡°Sweetie¡± everyone loves. Just be yourself! You can you do that, right?¡±

    ¡°Better than anyone!¡± He exclaimed.

    ¡°I sure hope so. Okay, try to air yourself out before you go in there, and whatever you do¡ªdon¡¯t let one loose.¡± I advised one last time. ¡°Hurry up before she leaves to lock up the store. You have about ten minutes.¡±

    ¡°How do I look?¡± He asked as he pressed down the brown curls that hung over his forehead.

    ¡°Great! Hurry!¡± I said as I nudged him toward the office door. ¡°I¡¯ll be right outside.¡±

    He looked like he was on the back end of back to back eight-hour shifts, but he wanted her to know how he felt ¡°tonight¡±. He had come this far and there was no turning back now. If she responded negatively, I could at least steer him away to protect his heart. If she responded positively, then we could work on the next step¡ªa date. I watched him from a corner obscured from Samantha¡¯s view, just outside the office door. After he entered, he positioned himself so I could see him through the door¡¯s window as he hovered directly behind her. He then glanced back at me for security, and I flashed him my right thumb to acknowledge he was in my view. I stood there in great anticipation of what he planned to do, but after a minute passed and then another, I still hadn¡¯t heard a single sound from either of them. At the three-minute mark, I saw movement when Samantha slowly turned her head to peer backwards¡ªwith the kind of facial expression people made when they smelled someone¡¯s flatulence. A minute later, things took a turn for the worst¡ªshe started to choke as Mick¡¯s Old Spice now attacked her ability to breathe. After it became apparent they had the same number of things to say to each other that two mannequins did, I then changed from an encouraging friend to a home plate umpire. When I used my thumb accordingly, to let Mick know to get out of there, he then blew me off and put his hand on her shoulder instead. Then, after a six-minute performance that would leave a mime envious, he decided to finally speak to her, but through the store¡¯s intercom.

    ¡°I¡­I¡­I love you!¡± He announced as his voice echoed throughout the entire store.

    After those words were said, I saw through the large security mirror, the store¡¯s remaining customers peer up into the heavens, and then hightailed it back into the stockroom. Samantha knew Mick and I often worked together, and if she saw me near the office, she would only accuse me of a scheme I couldn¡¯t have drawn up even in my wildest imagination. As I waited it out near our prior sanctuary, Mick soon appeared.

    ¡°I did it!¡± Mick proudly exclaimed as he put his hands in the air like Rocky Balboa.

    ¡°You did? How¡¯d you do it?¡± I played along.

    ¡°Well, I kept it light and simple¡ªjust like you said to.¡± He responded. ¡°And she knows how I feel now.¡±

    ¡°Well, now that even your next-door neighbor knows how you feel¡ªcan I ask why you told a girl, who you¡¯ve never gone out on a single date with, that you love her?¡± I asked as I tried to reason with him. ¡°Were you gonna ask her to marry you, too?¡±

    ¡°Should I have?¡± He asked with genuine concern. ¡°I only let her know my true feelins¡¯, Landyn. Was that so wrong?¡±

    In his own way, he did keep it light and simple by not saying anything but ¡°I love you.¡± While his announcement to not only Samantha but also everyone within earshot was a bad call, it came with an innocent heart. Mick was as noble as any literary character ever imagined, but his goodness went unappreciated in the real world. Any such profession of affection from the wild hearted would only be judged and feared¡ªnever perceived as a respected act of honor to be revered. The music of Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, and Journey only let the dreamers of love like Mick, a genuine guy in a world of counterfeit people, down. I even felt complicit as I sent him off into this world, knowing full well of its rash judgments. All for the price of being true to himself and taking on the world the same way I did. I only knew what he told Samantha ruined his chances because it¡¯s what the world told me.

    Some people claimed to wear their heart on their sleeve, but Mick truly did. He put it all on the line with Samantha simply because he refused to live a dishonest life. He couldn¡¯t lie to someone he cared about and thought he would be rewarded, and not judged for it. Mick didn¡¯t want to conform to societal tendencies though¡ªit¡¯s why he ignored me and went his own way. He also didn¡¯t believe the road to true love should require tactics of any kind. He adhered to a policy that simply stated ¡°Here is my heart, I care about you enough to not play games with you¡ªwe are adults. Sure, it might make things less exciting, but if you think our relationship will bore you all because I knew time was promised to no one and I wanted to maximize the time I spent on this Earth with you before I left it, then maybe you¡¯re not the one for me.¡± Of course, I was certain he was unaware of my rationalization for his actions, but how else can one rationalize love at first sight? Mick only needed me for one reason¡ªto help him make sense of his feelings. It¡¯s the only reason why he wanted Samantha to know how he felt¡ªso he could make sense of them. Regardless of what I advised him to do, he was going to follow his heart anyway, and when he got on the intercom, he declared his independence.

    ¡°Did it feel right to you, Mick?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Everything did.¡± He told me with his eyes directly in mine.

    ¡°That¡¯s all that matters.¡± I smiled.

    ¡°Thanks, Land.¡± He said as he started to run away from me. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    ¡°Where ya goin¡¯?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I gotta go to the bathroom.¡± He yelled back at me.

    ¡°Ah, Mick!¡± I yelled as I fought to wave away another foul odor mixed in with the Old Spice he wore.

    As he released himself in a way I didn¡¯t really need to know about, I thought of ways to minimize the damage his honesty caused. I knew Samantha planned to rip his heart out all because he chose to put his on the line, and I couldn¡¯t allow that to happen. When I noticed she was still in the office, I paid her a visit to see if there was a way to salvage any chance he had left. After I unintentionally slammed the office door upon entering, she immediately turned around.

    ¡°Sorry about that.¡± I said as she scowled at me. ¡°The handle slipped right off my hand.¡±

    ¡°You scared the crap outta me¡ªI thought it was Sweetie again.¡± She said as she pointed her finger at the top of the safe. ¡°Can you hand me that, please?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I said as I grabbed the green cash bag and handed it to her. ¡°So¡­what¡¯s shakin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°What do ya mean?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I heard a little birdie chirpin¡¯ a few minutes ago. It sounds like you have a person in your life who thinks you¡¯re pretty special.¡±

    ¡°Who? Sweetie?¡± She asked. ¡°And that was no little birdie¡ªmore like a Jackass.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna ask you how you know what a jackass sounds like, but I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t easy for him to tell you, or everyone else, how he feels. I¡¯m certain he¡¯s a little embarrassed about it all, especially if he couldn¡¯t tell you directly how he felt.¡±

    ¡°The little pecker was right here and didn¡¯t say a word about his feelings but yelled it in my intercom instead?¡± She said. ¡°Now you know what a jackass sounds like.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go out on a date with him, Samantha?¡± I asked. ¡°What have ya got to lose? I bet you¡¯d have a lot of fun!¡±

    ¡°No way.¡± She coldly replied. ¡°I¡¯m not datin¡¯, Sweetie.¡±

    ¡°Why not? He¡¯s a great guy, Samantha.¡± I countered. ¡°He¡¯s a hard worker. Has a good attitude. Would move heaven and earth for you. He¡¯s responsible¡ªthe little pecker even works two jobs! He has integrity and character. Hey, he might even have a big pecker! Who knows what you¡¯ll find¡­out? What¡¯s there not to like about him?¡±

    She then swiveled her chair to face me, but before she could say anything negative about him, I cut her off.

    ¡°Okay, we both know he¡¯s not perfect.¡± I said. ¡°But who is?¡±

    ¡°Alright I¡¯ll tell ya what¡ªI¡¯ll go out on a date with him.¡± She said.

    ¡°You will? Really!¡± I said with excitement. ¡°I mean¡­that¡¯s great. I¡¯ll have to check with Mick, of course. I kinda did this behind his back, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯d love to go out on a date with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go out with him.¡± She stated. ¡°But on one condition.¡±

    ¡°One condition? Uh¡­what condition is that?¡± I reluctantly asked.

    ¡°If you can change your shift tomorrow.¡± She countered.

    ¡°You want me to swap out my eleven to eight shift?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°For what time?¡±

    ¡°For a six to three.¡±

    ¡°Well, I had plans tomorrow night with my friends, Samantha.¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re goin¡¯ to the Metallica-Guns n¡¯ Roses concert at the Rose Bowl. We already have tickets and I got Mark¡¯s approval two months ago to leave early tomorrow night¡ªat five. I¡¯m leavin¡¯ straight from here to the concert. I promised Mark I¡¯d make up the hours on Sunday.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. I think you misunderstood me.¡± She said.

    ¡°Oh? How so?¡±

    ¡°Six in the morning to three in the afternoon.¡± She clarified,

    ¡°What?¡± I said as I shook my head at her. ¡°That¡¯s not fair¡ªyou know I get off at three. Factor in my drive and I¡¯d have to be back here in two hours. That¡¯s impossible!¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± she laughed as she swiveled her chair back around to work on her paperwork.

    The nerve of her, I thought. A date with Samantha would have made Sweetie¡¯s lifetime, and given him so much hope. I was already working on little sleep as it was and had two finals during the week¡ªthe reason why Samantha made the offer in the first place. Where Mick once stood minutes earlier, I now stood there paralyzed, unable to think of a response¡ªjust like a mannequin.

    ¡°You still here?¡± She sarcastically observed as she turned her head around.

    ¡°Okay, you¡¯re on.¡± I said. ¡°If I do this, you can¡¯t change your mind.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be a second late.¡± She stated. ¡°If you¡¯re a second late¡ªno date.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡± I exclaimed.

    I then stormed out of the office, and marched right over to Mick as he readied the stockroom for the night¡¯s shipment.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal.¡± I said. ¡°That thing up there told me she¡¯ll go out on a date with you.¡±

    ¡°She will?¡± He chirped excitedly. ¡°She loves me too!¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t she?¡± I said, annoyed by Samantha¡¯s challenge. ¡°Here¡¯s the catch though. I have to be back here at six¡ªotherwise, the date won¡¯t happen. I can¡¯t even be a second late.¡±

    ¡°But Land, you¡¯re always late.¡± He asked as his eyes hit the floor. ¡°How are ya gonna be able to¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not always late, ya know!¡± I cut him off as I patted him on the back. ¡°Chin up!¡±

    ¡°I know, but don¡¯t you have a long drive here?¡± He asked as I watched Samantha exit the office to approach us.

    ¡°I¡¯ll find a way.¡± I told him when Samantha stood next to us. ¡°If I were you, and since she¡¯s right here¡ªask her where she¡¯d like to go.¡±

    As Samantha glared at me at the same time Mick¡¯s smile widened, I winked at her when I walked past them to use the restroom. As we unloaded the truck that night, he thanked me several times with a smile that never vacated his face. When I left the store at a little after three in the morning, I did something I hadn¡¯t done in at least ten years at the time¡ªI prayed to God I¡¯d make it on time.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 10 ~ ENIGMAS BETWEEN US

    The next time Mick and I worked together was on the following Tuesday¡ªa few days later. While loading a dolly with cases of laundry detergent, Sweetie quickly moved past me like I was an apparition to him.

    ¡°Hey Sweetie! What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡± I shouted to get his attention.

    ¡°Can¡¯t talk right now.¡± He said, jogging away from me as he turned his head back. ¡°Cute girl on aisle six!¡±

    ¡°Hey, wait a minute! What about Samantha?¡± I posed to him as I threw my hands in the air.

    ¡°Thank you for showing up on time¡ªI was worried you wouldn¡¯t make it.¡± He said, now walking back towards me,

    ¡°Believe me¡­I was worried too.¡± I smiled. ¡°How¡¯d the date go?¡±

    ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What do ya mean it didn¡¯t?¡± I shouted, looking around the store. ¡°Samantha promised¡ªis she workin¡¯ today?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not Samantha¡¯s fault¡ªI got lost on the way to the park we were supposed to meet at.¡±

    ¡°You got lost? How¡¯d that happen?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ªit just happened.¡± He told me with closed eyes and shaking his head.

    ¡°Oh, Sweetie.¡± I said, shaking my head too.

    ¡°I thought she meant the park close to the hospital¡ªbut it was the one on Normandie.¡±

    ¡°The one right by the caf¨¦ you work at?¡± I asked. ¡°Sounds like she picked the park closest to you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I thought it was the other park¡­but she told me she was waiting there for an hour before she left.¡± He told me. ¡°She thinks I stood her up.¡±

    In my sick head, I couldn¡¯t have pictured a funnier date scenario¡ªSamantha believing Sweetie stood her up. I put my hand on Sweetie¡¯s shoulder until I stopped laughing.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t stand her up, Land.¡± He exclaimed, shaking his head.

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t.¡± I told him, killing my laughter. ¡°But it¡¯s probably a good thing¡ªit gives you a little power back after confessing your love for her.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that cutie¡¯s already on aisle six.¡± He pointed out while looking in the panoramic store security mirror, a smile pasted on his face. ¡°Gotta run!¡±

    ¡°Hey! What about Samantha?¡± I prodded him before he ran off.

    ¡°She¡¯ll get over me.¡± He claimed, as he made his way to aisle six.

    ¡°Well, that makes sense.¡± I muttered, moving my dolly to the front of aisle thirty-seven to work on a sale display after losing my Sunday off catching up on sleep for nothing.

    Upon reaching my destination, I unloaded the cases of detergent then searched my smock¡¯s pocket for a box cutter. After realizing I left it in the stockroom, the movements of several unidentified bodies in the large panoramic security mirror at the front of the store caught my eye. Three males in their green smocks¡ªtwo cashiers and even my boss, made their way to join Sweetie, and even Samantha over on aisle six. The security mirror was mounted about thirty feet high and hung at a slant on the ceiling¡¯s edge at the front of the store. It extended forty yards so each of the store¡¯s thirty-eight aisles could be seen in it. I didn¡¯t understand what the big fuss was about¡ªattractive women often strolled into the store. The high school where they filmed the television show ¡°Beverly Hills 90210¡± was only two blocks down the street from Frugals. I didn¡¯t know if they were fans or what, but Ian Ziering used to come in for ice cream with some of the prettiest women I¡¯ve ever seen. I even heard some of the actresses on the show frequented the store as well, but I was never around to confirm. It was always a nice break from the monotony of the job whenever an attractive woman shopped inside the store though. If they came into my area while I worked, it was only human nature to check them out, but I wasn¡¯t going to drop my work just to ogle over them.

    At the same moment I reached the stockroom to retrieve a boxcutter, I heard my name broadcasted on the intercom.

    ¡°Second checker, please.¡± Blared Sweetie¡¯s squeaky voice. ¡°Landyn, second checker.¡±

    Before my role changed to stockman, I enjoyed cashiering, but when I had a ton of work to do in the stockroom, I found it stressful whenever I had to cashier too. Any cashiering I did during the weekends took away from the time I needed to set up the sale displays by Thursday¡ªthe day merchandise went on sale each week. I was only asked to cashier as a last resort¡ªwhen no one else was available to. The cashiers mostly didn¡¯t care about the job much¡ªone even poured herself a cup of wine in an ice cream cup to sip on while she rang up purchases. I couldn¡¯t blame her though; its repetitive nature and low pay made a day at the checkstand seem like an eternity. My boss even knew it wasn¡¯t easy to ring purchases up for eight hours a day and turned a blind eye to her need for a libation or two. For all I knew, he probably had a drink or two with her.

    When I reached the store front, I walked over to the other cashier¡¯s line and brought the next person in her line over to my checkstand. As I carried her purchases over to my register, a short, older lady somewhere in her sixties, she thanked me profusely. She had two large bottles of Jojoba shampoo, a curler, two small bottles of nail polish remover, a bottle of skin lotion, and a box of Fig Newtons, yet didn¡¯t put them in a carry basket¡ªshe was stronger than I was. When I placed the haul upon my checkstand and brought one of her items across the scanner, the cashier behind me began to shout.

    ¡°Hey, Land, is Nivea on sale this week?¡± She asked in her usual masculine tenor¡ªa tone that even matched her looks.

    ¡°No. It goes on sale Thursday.¡± I shouted back.

    ¡°Whaa¡­Whaa¡­Whaaaat?¡± Interjected the elderly lady in my line.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am? Is somethin¡¯ wrong?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the moisturizer was going on sale on Thursday, young man.¡± She said as she snatched the moisturizer away from me before I could scan it. ¡°I¡¯ll come back for it then.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t make you do that¡ªI¡¯ll give you the sale price today.¡± I conceded as I quickly checked a copy of Thursday¡¯s ad from my smock¡¯s pocket to ascertain the sale price. I then manually entered the purchase without scanning it.

    ¡°Are you sure? I wouldn¡¯t want to get you in trouble.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d only be in trouble if I made you drive out here just for one item.¡± I reassured, while bagging her purchases. ¡°That¡¯ll be twenty-three seventy-seven, please.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, thank you so much.¡± She said as she peered inside in her large black purse. ¡°I have pancreatic cancer and I¡¯m in terrible pain when I drive these days.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry to hear that.¡± I replied, unable to grasp the severity of what she told me as she handed me a twenty and three one-dollar bills.

    ¡°Hold on a second, I think I have the seventy-seven cents!¡± She announced as she dumped the change from a small teal change purse she removed from her larger purse. ¡°Can you help me count?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± I yielded as we both tried to conjure up seventy-seven cents from what had to be three pounds worth of change¡ªmostly pennies¡ªthat she carried around in her change purse. ¡°You sure have a lot of change in here.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, I¡¯m afraid I do, dear.¡± She said, her purple spider veined exposed hands trembling to count the correct change.

    The sound of the coins, as she slid them one by one to me, had to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard¡ªaccording to the annoyed faces of the four people who stood in my line behind her.

    ¡°Okay¡­here¡¯s four nickels and three dimes, and I¡¯ll take these twenty-seven pennies you have off your hands.¡± I compromised, to wrest control of the coin counting chaos at my checkstand. ¡°That should help lighten your load a little bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank you¡ªI wanted to keep my quarters.¡± She said as she put the excess change that spilled out back into her small change purse. ¡°I can¡¯t believe how much change I have.¡±

    ¡°You might have more money in that small change purse than you do in your main purse!¡± I joked while she secured her change purse. ¡°Did you want your receipt?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, please.¡± She replied, smiling. ¡°You can just put it in the bag.¡±

    Once she delicately placed her mother purse upon her shoulder, I handed her the bag and thanked her for coming in. After I rang up the four remaining customers, in almost half the time it took me to ring up ¡°Penny¡±, I exited my checkstand area. The very second, I put the chain back up to close my register, the main cashier barked at me again.

    ¡°Hey, Landyn!¡±

    ¡°Hey, Eve!¡± I acknowledged.

    ¡°Do you mind if I take my lunch break?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t taken it yet?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s been way too busy.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± I sighed, then unchaining my checkstand to reopen it for business. ¡°Have a nice lunch.¡±

    When Eve asked me to cover for her lunch break, it only bothered me because someone else, one of those same males who flocked to aisle six to check out a female customer, was assigned to relieve her. I was also certain that Eve not only knew I wasn¡¯t supposed to cover for her, but if the roles were reversed, she would have forced me to have the assigned person cover her. At times, the cashiers took advantage of my good nature, and it irritated me only because I had so much responsibility at the store. I wasn¡¯t just accountable for a single cash register like Eve was. She had been on her feet and stuck behind a register for the last four hours though, and her five dollar and twenty-five cents minimum wage cashiering gig wasn¡¯t hard to walk away from. I wanted to get along with my co-workers and be a team player, regardless of if they took advantage of me. For all I knew, the same people I met on the way up could be the same people I met on the way down.

    As I waited for Eve to return from her hour lunch break, not a single customer came to my checkstand for forty-five minutes. I even contemplated grabbing my own ice cream cup of wine as the time slowed enough to make Eve¡¯s lunch break feel more like a maternity leave. To kill time, I started to straighten my register¡¯s cigarette rack behind me, but a minute into this task, I heard the sound of paper towels smacking against the floor from a once towering display near the front of my checkstand.

    ¡°Ooooh nooo!¡± Squealed a troubled soft-spoken voice near the fallen paper towel display as its columns teetered like bowling pins and fell one by one.

    ¡°Hey Sweetie, are you okay over there?¡± I yelled over as the pile of paper towels grew.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m dead.¡± Squealed a muffled voice from underneath the pile as another pillar fell upon him.

    ¡°Do you need any help?¡± I asked as I peered over and noticed a badly scuffed and worn out white Puma shoe that protruded from the pile.

    ¡°I got it. Nothin¡¯ to see here.¡± He said as I caught glimpse of his disheveled mullet when it suddenly emerged from the wreckage.

    Although I engaged Sweetie, he failed to look in my direction when he spoke to me. I would soon learn why when my own eyes were suddenly fixated on the galaxy that spiraled into my checkout line¡ªa sun-kissed, slightly curled, dark brown-haired, brown-eyed, beauty. She was dressed in short blue jean shorts, with a bared shoulder white blouse and white kitten heels that complemented every single curve and her tanned skin perfectly. When my eyes finally betrayed my thoughts, she shot a smile at me that made her appear even more stunning. Although I hadn¡¯t toppled over an entire paper towel display in awe of her, I quickly understood why Sweetie made it a point to head over to aisle six. Lost in the allure of the solar eclipse before me, I noticed I had no other customers in line, and she had the latest issue of Soap Digest in her manicured hands¡ªa weekly magazine she could easily be featured in. She then held up the magazine to me and pointed to the picture of the man who graced its cover.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Is this you?¡± She asked me.

    ¡°What?¡± I laughed, shaking my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not you?¡± She asked with displeasure in her soft voice. ¡°I think he¡¯s so handsome.¡±

    Her remark caught me completely off-guard and left me speechless. The men who were on the cover of this magazine were soap stars¡ªI wasn¡¯t in their league. As much as I wanted to exude confidence and have a witty comeback for her, I had nothing.

    ¡°Maybe in another life.¡± I laughed nervously.

    ¡°You know, come to think of it.¡± She said as she eyed the cover and then glanced at me. ¡°You¡¯re better looking than him.¡±

    I expected her to laugh when she cracked this joke. When she didn¡¯t, I scanned the store, and even looked behind me in search of a hidden camera. When I wasn¡¯t able to confirm I was the butt of a prank, I returned my attention to her as I thought of a way to ruin the prank if there was one.

    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± She responded excitedly as she handed me the magazine to scan.

    ¡°How much have you had to drink today?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious! I really think you¡¯re better looking than him!¡± She told me without cracking a smile. ¡°Do you know who you really look like though?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°Jean-Claude Van Damme.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea who that is.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in the ¡°Bloodsport¡± movies. He¡¯s really hot.¡±

    Up until this moment of my life, I could always think of something to say to someone, but she had me completely tongue-tied. I then scanned the store again for a hidden camera, and when my eyes came across the store¡¯s intercom, I contemplated what would be more embarrassing¡ªmy continued silence or announcing my love for her.

    ¡°I think you¡¯re better looking than him too, though.¡± She said to break my silence. ¡°Are you single?¡±

    It all felt like a dream as my eyes searched for the reason behind the compliments¡ªshe had to be flawed. As she stood before me, I frantically searched for what was wrong with her. My eyes took notice of how her hair delicately touched both sides of her face while her bangs concealed her forehead, just a little past her eyebrows. How her silver hoop earrings only added to the immaculate structure of her face, vibrant hairstyle, and petite neck, and how her smile only accentuated her natural full lips and high cheekbones. When she inched her body away and brought her purposeful hands down along the sides of her slim yet busty figure, to inspire my imagination, a move that exposed her tanned belly button and one undone button on her short jean shorts, one thing was made absolutely certain¡ªshe was perfect.

    ¡°I¡¯m sooo single.¡± I told her, caught in a trance.

    ¡°How much do I owe you?¡± She smiled as she put her head into her purse.

    ¡°Huh? Oh. I¡¯m sorry. Ten forty-three.¡± I nervously said as I descended back to mother earth.

    When she reached inside of her purse, I then realized why this stunning woman found me so appealing¡ªshe had to be looking for a discount. When that dawned on me, I felt less nervous around her and foolish. She then handed me a five and six one-dollar bills, but each time she brought her small soft right hand into mine, her touch complicated my return to reality.

    ¡°Fifty-seven cents is your change.¡± I said as it turned me on just to hand over her change. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I hope I get to see you the next time I come in.¡± She said as she extended her hand to me. ¡°What¡¯s your name? I¡¯m Monica.¡±

    ¡°Landyn.¡± I stammered while I shook a hand I didn¡¯t want to let go of. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Monica.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you to! Have a great day, handsome!¡±

    ¡°You too! Please come again!¡±

    As she walked away, she smiled and waved good-bye to me. While I waved back, I couldn¡¯t help but look through the large security mirror to check her out as she exited. After I confirmed she was one of the sexiest women alive, I turned around to see Eve, the complete opposite side of the spectrum, who just returned from lunch.

    ¡°Did you really just ask her to please come again?¡± She laughed as she chained up my register.

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± I said before I realized what she implied. ¡°Oh¡­I didn¡¯t mean it that way!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one smooth operator.¡± She teased.

    ¡°Whatever.¡± I shot back then walked away.

    Before I made my way back to the stockroom, I stopped off to talk to Sweetie, who slowly and quietly repaired the paper towel disaster area he created.

    ¡°You can finish that now¡ªshe¡¯s gone.¡± I laughed.

    ¡°Did you talk to her?¡± He asked as his eyes widened.

    ¡°Maybe. Why?¡±

    ¡°Oh...nothin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°No, why? Do you like her?¡±

    ¡°Kinda.¡± He squeaked as if I forgot all about his mad dash for aisle six.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me? I would¡¯ve let you use my intercom if you wanted to let her know how you felt.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s too late.¡± He updated me as he grabbed a paper towel roll from off the floor. ¡°She¡¯s outside the store now.¡±

    I could only laugh as he still considered the intercom a viable option after the Samantha fiasco. I then left Sweetie to his own devices and finally made it to the stockroom to retrieve my boxcutter. As the rest of the day dragged on, I couldn¡¯t help but think about Monica. How I never met a woman before who was that attractive, but who also made me feel like I was the attractive one. Although I held out for true love, it wasn¡¯t because I thought I was God¡¯s gift to women¡ªI just wanted a love that stood the test of time. Why give someone a lifetime for it to only be spent unhappily? Each time Monica walked into Frugals, not only did my male co-workers but also the store¡¯s male customers followed her around like lost puppies. How could a woman with that kind of appeal be attracted to me, unless she wanted the store¡¯s discount? Regardless of my fears, I found it impossible not to fantasize about asking her out and having a relationship with her. I knew she frequented the store often, but since I rarely cashiered, I wondered when, or even if, I¡¯d get a chance to talk to her again.

    Monica came into the store a few more times since we first talked¡ªI only knew that because Sweetie told me. The fourth time she made her way through Frugals¡¯ glass doors, fate stepped in¡ªI was working on the same aisle.

    ¡°Hey, Landyn! Where have you been? Did you hide in the back when you saw me come in?¡± She teased as she hugged me.

    I could hardly speak when she came into my arms, and when she slowly pulled away, it rendered me speechless. She wore a short, tight, white off-the-shoulder dress that revealed the sunlight as it broke through the store¡¯s windows to glisten off of her tanned skin. As she stood before me, I wondered if anything I said would make sense. I then noticed movement in the panoramic security mirror as the males in the store began to congregate near the aisle we shared, like vultures, all in great anticipation¡ªof me blowing it.

    ¡°I¡¯m rarely up at the check stands.¡± I eagerly explained. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I missed you the last time you were in. You must have come in while I was at school¡ªI¡¯m usually out here running around. Can I help you find something?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡± She said as she placed her right hand on my left bicep. ¡°I just wanted to see Jean-Claude Van Damme.¡±

    Her comments left me spellbound as I wondered if she could be the one I¡¯ve been waiting for. How could she be the one, though, after twenty-five years of being rejected by women who were far less attractive than her? Was she still working me for a discount? Then again, why couldn¡¯t she be the one? I rarely cashiered, yet the time I did, she came into my life. Did fate and destiny now stand before me in a tight white dress? As she left her hand on my bicep, her soft cool touch left me to dream beyond what I¡¯ve ever done before.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the real Jean-Claude Van Damme wishes he were me right about now¡ªwhoever he is.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is that so?¡± She said as she flashed a set of white teeth behind lips of red. ¡°Have you ever been to the Mexican restaurant down a couple of blocks off Western?¡±

    ¡°La Chispa? I¡¯ve heard great things about it, but I¡¯ve never been there.¡±

    ¡°Yes! That¡¯s it! I waitress there! You should come by for lunch one day!¡±

    ¡°Really? I¡¯ve been wanting to try the food there for the longest time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love for you to come! I¡¯m a part-owner! I¡¯ll even wait on you!¡±

    ¡°Now I have a reason to come!¡± I laughed then backtracked when I thought of Eve¡¯s remarks about my word usage. ¡°Um¡­thank you for the invitation! I look forward to it!¡±

    Although she could still be working me for a store discount, I felt a little less apprehensive when she invited me to lunch at the restaurant she partly owned. Over the next two weeks that followed, I couldn¡¯t help but fantasize about asking her out on a date. Since I believed in fate and destiny, it was impossible to believe her compliments lacked any sincerity. I wanted to believe a mutual attraction existed between us¡ªan appeal that became a need to explore the possibilities it presented. After that particular conversation, Monica visited the store twice a week, and each time she dignified the store¡¯s floors, she not only sought me out to say hello, but also never asked for a store discount. This only led me to believe her compliments were not tied to twenty percent off of anything¡ªshe had to be the one I¡¯ve waited so long to meet.

    On New Year¡¯s Eve, 1992, it was a Friday, a night usually spent in the company of friends. Unfortunately, I found myself in the company of the Frugals inventory crew instead. At the same time I punched my time card, I also imagined the sound of glass tumblers as they touched to celebrate the night¡¯s first drink¡ªwith many more to follow. With fifteen minutes left before the store closed, I was asked to cover the lone open register. As I stood at the check stand with my mind solely on all the fun I missed out on, I suddenly heard the appreciated sound of female voices and high heels. Through the store¡¯s large security mirror, I then watched a group of four ladies, all in different color dresses and shapes, disappear into the liquor section behind my checkstand. Ten minutes later, when they brought their alcoholic beverages of choice to my register, there were five girls¡ªnot four.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Monica said excitedly as she placed two champagne bottles down for me to ring up. ¡°What are you doin¡¯ workin¡¯ tonight, handsome? Happy New Year!¡±

    After her friends placed four more bottles of other various libations on my checkstand, I expected them to question Monica¡¯s eyesight after they heard her call me ¡°handsome¡±, but they just scampered behind her and toward the front of the store¡ªapparently far too wasted to disagree. When Monica placed her hand on the checkstand next to mine to maintain her balance, I knew she was drunk as well. On the unlikeliest of all nights to see her, she stood before me dressed in a beige sparkling sleeveless evening dress with a deep V that exposed the area between her tanned breasts. As the dress slightly touched the floor, her toned tan legs could still be seen through it. As I stood there in complete awe, she smiled wildly at me in anticipation of my response.

    ¡°Hey! Happy New Year!¡± I responded with genuine excitement. ¡°We get shipments every Friday, so I have to work.¡±

    ¡°You should come join us when you get off! We can bring in the new year together!¡±

    When she presented a scenario that I thought only happened on eight-millimeter film, I nearly paid for all the alcohol and left with them. I waited my entire life for a moment like this and wanted to seize the moment by the champagne bottle neck. Before I could take off my smock for the last time and start my new life though, I realized I was just Landyn Lastman¡ªI still had nothing to offer anyone. Even when it seemed my time finally arrived, even handed to me on a silver platter, my bad timing remained impeccable.

    ¡°I get off at three.¡± I answered in defeat. ¡°I wish I could.¡±

    ¡°Party pooper!¡± Shouted one of her friends at me as they all began to chant my new namesake.

    ¡°If you ladies want to wait until three, I¡¯ll show you who the real ¡®party poopers¡¯ are!¡± I joked as I scanned their purchases and then bagged them. ¡°Um¡­sixty-seven twenty, please.¡±

    As her friends headed to the front of the store, they challenged me to join them at three if they thought I could ¡°keep up¡± with them. I would¡¯ve accepted their challenge¡ªthe inspiration to be wide awake at three was there. I just knew after I unloaded the shipment off the truck, there wasn¡¯t enough deodorant in stock that made me tolerable to be around. When Monica handed me four twenty-dollar bills, I found it strange they left her behind to pay for the liquor¡ªthey didn¡¯t even offer to pay.

    ¡°When are you planning to come by the restaurant?¡± She asked as I handed her back the change.

    ¡°Are you working on Tuesday?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± She said as she put the change in her purse.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come by on Tuesday, then.¡±

    ¡°You promise?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    ¡°You know, I would love to date you.¡± She said as she placed her hand on my checkstand for balance.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that actually.¡±

    ¡°You have? Really?¡± She smiled widely as she appeared genuinely surprised.

    ¡°You sound surprised by that.¡±

    ¡°I am¡ªI didn¡¯t think you were interested.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious? I¡¯ve been interested since I first talked to you. You didn¡¯t have to be, but you¡¯ve been nothing but nice to me. You even tell me things I should be telling you. I guess the real question is who in their right mind wouldn¡¯t want to date you?¡±

    ¡°Awww¡­that¡¯s very sweet of you to say.¡± She said softly as I could hear her friends start to call her. ¡°I would date you in a heartbeat¡ªI¡¯d even ask you out.¡±

    When she revealed this, my heart broke for her¡ªit was the man who should ask the woman out. She went out of her way to come into the store to talk to me, and I wronged her by not asking her out¡ªI had to step up to the plate.

    ¡°That will never be necessary¡ªwould you give me the honor of taking you out on a date?¡±

    ¡°I would love to¡­¡±

    ¡°You just made my life.¡± I said in genuine happiness¡ªa joy beyond what I ever imagined it could be that felt surreal. I then continued to reveal the details of what I fantasized about since we first talked. ¡°I have this great place I¡¯d love to take you to. The sunsets are amazing. It¡¯s just off the¡­¡±

    She cut me off.

    When I heard the dreaded ¡°M¡± word, I had never been more astonished and disappointed at the same time. After twenty-five years of knowing better, I still never considered that was the reason she found herself so attracted to me. I should¡¯ve known though¡ªwords were always easier to say than acting upon them.

    ¡°Now it all makes sense!¡± I reluctantly laughed as I tried to hide my deep disappointment.

    ¡°What does?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just that you could have any man you want¡ªwhy would you choose to date me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be just as attracted to you even if I wasn¡¯t married.¡± She responded in a sober tone. ¡°I meant everything I told you. I think you¡¯re super handsome.¡±

    I smiled and nodded at her, but inside I knew differently. I was on this Earth too long to know that with unlimited options, I¡¯d never be the man of her choice. I bore witness to her appeal¡ªI watched grown men run to be near her, afraid to lose the slightest glimpse of her. If she were single, she would have her choice of pretty much any single man. I¡¯d put my last dollar she wouldn¡¯t have chosen the one still in college who moonlighted as a stockman at a local drug store, no matter how handsome she thought he was.

    ¡°Would you ever date a married woman?¡± She asked as her eyes widened.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but that¡¯s just something I could never do.¡± I replied without hesitation.

    ¡°Oh well, I guess we¡¯re both out of luck then.¡± She told me as one of her friends grabbed one of the two paper bags of alcohol and playfully yanked her away from me. ¡°Guess I gotta run! Happy New Years!¡±

    ¡°Happy New Years!¡± I said then torturously watched them exit the store.

    As another dream died right before my eyes, I suddenly heard a squeaky and frantic voice a few yards away from me.

    ¡°Oh nooo!¡± Cried Sweetie as the same paper towel display toppled over and upon him yet again.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s time we move this paper towel display to another spot.¡± I suggested as I removed several rolls of Bounty paper towels off of him. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    When I threw off the last few rolls that covered him, I was greeted by a blushed face that was lost in deep thought as he gazed up at me.

    ¡°Good idea.¡± He resigned.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 11 ~ SARA

    ¡°Touching story.¡± Culver growled at me, leaning into his axe that grinded deep into the ash and dirt. ¡°Touching, indeed.¡±

    Still under the foot of the beast, it¡¯s scorpion like tail hovering closer above me, I glanced over at Paige, still under Culver¡¯s steel like hooves. She flashed a very small smile to assure me of something¡ªeither my story was helpful to our cause or to make me less fearful of our fate. When Culver saw how we sought comfort through each other, he dug his hoof deep into her womb causing Paige to scream, echoing her anguish across the hellish landscape. Her screams pierced my ears, and angered me enough to try prying loose from the beast but to no avail¡ªhe appeared to be getting heavier.

    The beast roared with pleasure at the sight of my struggle, like he had always done, either through himself or through Culver. Love wasn¡¯t allowed down here¡ªonly a hatred and disbelief in God, or his Son, was tolerated. Knowing I had a lifetime of grievances against his mortal enemy, it seemed my story would only allow him to become even greater and more powerful. It¡¯s what he wanted though¡ªhe wanted my soul to reveal how I really felt about God, about love, about the heavens, about creation. He banked that was soul was too darkened to ever end his dominion over me. I don¡¯t know what Culver was, but he was close to his own offspring than a demon doing his dirty work.

    ¡°Your story is pointless.¡± Culver groaned, shaking his head, Paige moaning beneath him unable to look at me. ¡°Just like your life.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what brought Culver and Paige to where they stood now, and I had an even less understanding as to why I was in the middle of it. One thing was certain though--the master and his apprentice knew they would get even stronger with the direction my story was headed next. Doubts then began to circulate within¡ªcontinuing had to be pointless. Paige could hear my thoughts though, like they all could, and when she turned to me and said ¡°please¡± in agony, I knew my story had to continue on, but would there be enough time?

    I was then jettisoned, for some reason, to the time before I became management material at Frugals and before I met ¡°Sweetie¡±. There was a reason I was brought back to a scene in the middle of a Frugal¡¯s stockroom¡ªa time of my life I had no control of revisiting. It was now left to the natural state of my soul to show how this story would be viewed to the ones who looked to end me for all eternity.

    ¡°What the hell is goin¡¯ on in here?¡± Asked my boss, Mark Warner, as he ran into the stockroom.

    ¡°I saw him!¡± Shouted Natalie Zimmerman, who pointed one of her broken fake fingernails at me. ¡°Landyn! I saw him do it!¡±

    ¡°Do what? What happened?¡±

    ¡°Your model employee threw a hammer at Sara!¡± She announced as she then pointed to the object in question on the stockroom floor.

    ¡°Landyn? He did? Is this true?¡±

    ¡°Yes! He just tried to kill Sara!¡±

    I had lost track of my sense of being, hurled into a void even before I heard the footsteps and the accusations soar from the mouth of the portly, diminutive, thick-lensed-wearing, Natalie Zimmerman. As she spun a narrative she stumbled in upon, her dark-rimmed glasses fogged up on her as she tried to catch her breath. Her words only bent my mind even further to the point that everything around me¡ªthe people, the surroundings, and even the incident itself, seemed like a dream. The kind of reverie you always remembered when you woke up from it because you were relieved you did. This nightmare, however, was caught in the realm of reality.

    Sara and I worked at Frugals together. She was a petite, delicate girl with clear, light brown skin, and thin, dark brown hair. She had puppy brown eyes and small but robust lips buttressed by a pair of healthy tiny cheekbones. She stood a whopping sixty-two inches tall, and if she ate a heavy meal, she may have cracked a hundred pounds. When I first met Sara, I felt no attraction to her¡ªnone whatsoever. In fact, I couldn¡¯t have been less interested in a girl. The girl who trained me on the cash register though, Diana¡ªthat was an entirely different story.

    Diana was a slender, dark auburn-haired, fair-skinned, hazel-eyed fox. I was hired to be a cashier and my first day on the job, I spent most of my time with Diana. Since she was a cashier too, she trained me on the register, and over time, we naturally became friends. During my first week behind the registers, I learned that whining was common among cashiers when it came to covering breaks for one another. There was no bigger culprit than Natalie Zimmerman, who purposely took her breaks at the store¡¯s busiest times and grumbled whenever she had to cover someone for an hour, or even ten minutes. Since Diana and I never complained, other than to point out Natalie¡¯s tendencies to one another, a bond formed between us. Although I found myself attracted to her, I played it close to the vest because we worked together. I wasn¡¯t opposed to dating a co-worker, but thought it was best to avoid doing so. It was a good thing too¡ªone night while I cashiered until closing, I was introduced to her boyfriend¡­by her boyfriend.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Diana?¡± He bellowed when he came to my checkstand. ¡°I¡¯m here to pick her up.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­I think she left a couple of hours ago.¡± I informed him from inside my checkstand. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Eddie¡ªher friendboy.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡± I said, surprised to learn she had a boyfriend. ¡°Does she have a pager?¡±

    ¡°Pager? No!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°If you see her, tell her Eddie¡¯s lookin¡¯ for her.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Sure thing.¡±

    Eddie appeared ready to punch me in the face, knock me out cold, throw me over his shoulder, and then dump me on the ground. He possessed a stocky yet broad-shouldered build, with curly and long, greasy dark hair. His emotionless face was acne ridden and he had a gait similar to that of a chicken. When he spoke, I was shocked to learn his name wasn¡¯t Grog and he didn¡¯t carry a club. Prior to Eddie¡¯s dramatic cameo, I had no idea Diana had a boyfriend or a ¡°friendboy¡±. It bummed me out that she never mentioned it¡ªI believed there was potential there. After he made himself known though, that pretty much ended any chance I gave myself with her.

    During the holiday season, my first at Frugals, the store had a ¡°Secret Santa¡± gift exchange. When the hat of employee names on folded yellow paper came my way, I reached into it and drew Mark Warner, my boss. Drawing him in the gift exchange petrified me, but when I learned he loved baseball, I felt relieved. Since I was an avid baseball fan as well, I knew he would be an easy buy¡ªthe inaugural 1989 Upper Deck set with the Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card. Mark was ecstatic when he saw the baseball card set I got him, but up until that point, I still had no idea who drew my name. When I received my gift though, I succumbed to utter shock¡ªfour compact discs, one of each of my favorite bands at the time: Def Leppard, Metallica, Iron Maiden, and the Scorpions. Back in 1989, compact discs ran about seventeen dollars each¡ªthis was by no means a thoughtless gift. I figured it had to be from one, if not all of my male coworkers. They were the only ones who knew what music I liked, and it wasn¡¯t beyond them to prank me. A few days later, one of them came clean and told me who it was¡ªit wasn¡¯t from them at all; it came from Diana. My low self-esteem had me convinced though that this was still a prank. When I asked how it was possible when she had no idea who my favorite bands were, he revealed she asked to trade names with him, and he obliged, even telling her what my favorite bands were. When he told me this without the slightest crack of a smile, I trusted he wasn¡¯t kidding.

    I couldn¡¯t believe such a thoughtful gift came from a girl I actually liked. I felt the potential for romance was there, but I never allowed myself to assume anyone could have liked me, especially her. To know she spent over sixty dollars on my gift though, gave me the confidence boost I needed to believe she did. When the ecstasy of the moment began to sink in, I realized that as meaningful as the gift was, I couldn¡¯t fully embrace it¡ªshe still had a boyfriend. Minutes after I learned of her generosity, I approached Diana, gave her a hug, and thanked her. I then waited to see if she wanted to talk after work, but when Eddie picked her up that evening without a pull away from him or even a word, I became confused by her gesture. When he continued to pick her up from work each night that followed, I then realized that not only did she not break up with him; she never even had any plans to. At that point, if she ended their relationship, it would be beyond obvious that I would be the reason for their split. I liked Diana, but my feelings weren¡¯t strong enough to wrest her away from Eddie. I also didn¡¯t want to be responsible for their breakup. She should¡¯ve broken up with him before she gave me the gift, but it seemed her fear of being alone ran deep. I remained friendly with Diana, she had been my best female friend at the store, but I began to feel awkward around her. One fine morning, while I was assigned to straighten out the decimated toy aisle, Sara Sweeten approached me to shed some light on my predicament.

    ¡°That was really sweet of Diana to get you all those CD¡¯s.¡± Sara said to me.

    ¡°I¡¯m still blown away by it. It was super nice of her.¡±

    ¡°You should ask her out!¡± She exclaimed with her enthusiastic brown eyes.

    ¡°What? She has a boyfriend.¡±

    ¡°So? She likes you. Duh!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on with them? Is she breaking up with him?¡±

    ¡°Not that I know of¡­I know she really likes you though! All you have to do is ask her out! She¡¯s pretty! She¡¯s sweet! Ask her out already!¡±

    ¡°Ahh¡­I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea, Sara.¡± I said as I picked up a Slinky from off the ground. ¡°Can¡¯t people just put things back where they found them?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject!¡± She shot back at me. ¡°How can you say that it¡¯s not a good idea? She¡¯s hot! She has a nice body! She¡¯s really nice! You¡¯re blowing it!¡±

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll tell you what.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°I think you should ask her out.¡±

    ¡°Ha ha. Not funny.¡± She said as she turned to walk away from me.

    Sara never cared for any of my jokes, but they tasted like an insult to her so I couldn¡¯t blame her. Things would go on this way between her and me for several months. She would pester me about asking Diana out, and I¡¯d counter with Eddie punching me out. Diana was really attractive and sweet to me, but I didn¡¯t want to hurt a third party¡ªespecially one who would hurt me. If she didn¡¯t love her boyfriend anymore, then she should break up with him and not use him as an insurance plan. I could¡¯ve been wrong, but I¡¯d bet my last dollar his last name wasn¡¯t Aetna. Then one day, a merciful shift in the topic of our conversations materialized. Sara had gone to the beach over the weekend with a group of our ex co-workers and took pictures. She worked in the photo department at Frugals and had quick access to photos when they returned from the development center. When her pictures came back, she decided to share them with me.

    ¡°Look at Matt!¡± She giggled. ¡°He¡¯s sooo pale! We had to put a lot of sunscreen on him! Almost the whole bottle!¡±

    ¡°What was the SPF¡ªtwo thousand? He¡¯s totally covered in it! Did anyone try to rub it in?¡±

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t rub all of it in! And we put sooo much on him. Then we decided to bury him in the sand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s hilarious!¡± I howled with laughter when she showed me the picture¡ªthey had buried all of him, but placed his glasses on the bump where his face was.

    ¡°Look! Here¡¯s a picture of Diana in her bikini!¡± Sara clamored with great enthusiasm. ¡°She¡¯s sooo hot! She has such a nice body.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah! Wow.¡± I responded then shook my head, annoyed by her comment.

    No question¡ªDiana looked really good in a bikini, but it was the girl who posed next to her with the long dark brown hair that flowed off her shoulders and the tan, petite hourglass figure that caught my eye¡ªSara Sweeten. Prior to the moment she showed me this picture, intending to build up another girl who was already taken, there was never a single thing I found remotely desirable about Sara. I couldn¡¯t even explain it other than to say Cupid must be a real thing. I had gotten close to her over the last six months, and without even realizing, I was having a blast with her each day we worked. Enough fun that on a subconscious level, I began to like her, but when I saw her in a bikini, my admiration soared into consciousness. As she continued to show me more pictures, my thoughts found it impossible to stray from the one she showed me of her. Just before she finished showing all of them to me, a service call blared over the store intercom, requesting her to return to the photo department for customer service.

    ¡°Can I please look at the rest of them?¡± I asked her. ¡°I¡¯ll bring them right over to you when I¡¯m done.¡±

    ¡°Of course! Don¡¯t steal the one of Diana!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to.¡± I responded sarcastically.

    When the coast was clear, I purposefully looked through the rest of the pictures¡ªto find more pics of Sara. There was only one other picture though, a group photo. She always wore her hair up in a bun or in a pony tail at work, but this was the first time I ever saw her with her hair down. In private, the male non-management employees at Frugals would pose juvenile ¡°would you have sex with¡± questions to each other at downtimes. Whenever Sara¡¯s name made the rounds, the answer was always ¡°no way¡± from all of us. The pic my eyes beheld only proved one thing¡ªwe were all wrong about her and the joke was on us. As I gawked at her bikini pic one last time, I felt like an inside trader¡ªI knew her stock value was going to rise before the rest of the world did.

    From that moment on, we were nearly inseparable. I¡¯d even check the work schedule in advance each week, just to see if we worked together. I looked forward to the days we did and was bummed out when our schedules failed to coincide. I wanted to learn more about her; she was a bit of a mystery to me, and the more I learned, it only became harder not to like her. Our conversations went from about me dating Diana, to what our struggles, hopes, and dreams were. We were both Frugals¡¯ hardest workers, and we each had won the non-coveted ¡°Employee of the Month¡± honor at the store several times. When our smiling faces adorned the store for months at a time, we proved our worth to our boss and coworkers¡ªno one ever gave us a hard time whenever we talked. Although Sara seemed to always get her work done, I slacked off a tad after I started to harbor feelings for her, but like most company meetings, the time I spent with her at work was mandatory.

    There were a couple of nights a week when we closed together. The store closed at ten, but it usually took us an extra half-hour to sweep and mop the floors and to close the registers. When we excitedly exited the store after the end of the day, along with the closing manager and any other co-workers, we couldn¡¯t get inside our cars fast enough to hightail it out of there. As Sara and I grew closer though, we would jump inside our cars, but we¡¯d let the others drive off first. Once we saw them vanish from our view, we would jump out of our cars and hang out in the parking lot before we drove home¡ªusually two hours later. During those warm summer nights in 1990, we would bring out our beach chairs and chat about everything under the company of stars. Some nights, we found ourselves so engaged in conversation that the sun had to remind us it was time to go home. When Sara confessed that at twenty-one years old, she had never been in a serious relationship, I no longer felt alone. When she opened up about the issues she had with her mother, like I had with my father, I knew the stars watched over us.

    Then D-Day fell upon me¡ªthe day my feelings for Sara outgrew our platonic relationship. It was a Saturday afternoon when she did something she never did before¡ªshe walked into the store on her day off. I knew the very second she arrived too, by the commotion from the stunned cashiers who were the first to see her when she walked in. As I worked on the nearby candy aisle, stocking the shelves with Halloween candy, I nearly fell over a small box of candy when I heard she had walked in¡ªsuddenly nervous about a girl I hung out with every day. When she stood before me minutes later, the butterflies burst from their cocoons. She allowed her straight, dark brown hair to flow across her neckline, and wore a short shoulderless white and blue-flowered sundress¡ªa look that confirmed she was nothing less than a knock-out. At a time I didn¡¯t need any more reasons to like her, she revealed to me another mystery¡ªshe had a great sense for fashion. The very second she said ¡°good-bye¡± to me, I instantly missed her. When I realized I wouldn¡¯t see her for the next two days, I missed her even more. Sara Sweeten suddenly emerged into something I never dreamt possible¡ªa person I needed in my life. She added so much color to my day, I was lost in darkness whenever she wasn¡¯t around. I needed to be able to see her every day, especially the ones she had off. As this heartache made its approach, like a pilot who maneuvered a distressed aircraft, I had to let Sara know how I felt about her. Even with what seemed like nothing but blue sky ahead of me, I still feared a crash¡ªshe was friends with Diana, after all. The longer I hid my feelings from her though, the shakier this pilot would become¡ªI had never felt more vulnerable.

    I could never muster the courage to tell Sara face to face how I felt about her. I was too weak emotionally, unskilled with women, cowardly, and would find a way to screw it up. I also battled my father¡¯s voice in my head telling me I¡¯m a ¡°loser¡± and that I¡¯d never get into college or amount to anything. I just could never find motivation in his ruthless words¡ªonly the potential of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I had to go in another direction to make my feelings known, and the easiest way I knew how was through the written word. Although I knew my words would be immortalized, I could let every feeling be properly known in a letter. I also reasoned that if she didn¡¯t want to be my girlfriend, I¡¯d know pretty quickly and with less collateral damage. For two weeks, I put my pen to paper and emptied my heart into a two-page handwritten letter. Since Diana could be an issue, I had to give her an out, and ended my note with ¡°no matter what, we will always be friends¡±. As badly as I wanted to be with her, we were friends first before feelings developed. In the same breath, I couldn¡¯t ignore the possibility of a traumatic disappointment.

    For two weeks, I worked on the letter as if it was Tolstoy¡¯s ¡°War and Peace¡±. I scrutinized every single word and sentence¡ªafraid one mistake, even grammatically, could cost me my destiny. After I wrote it and beat it up, I wondered if it was the right thing to do. This letter laid out all the feelings I ever had for another human being¡ªif she laughed, I would be devastated. I also worked with her, and I worried how it would affect our reputations with our co-workers. I never feared our relationship wouldn¡¯t last¡ªSara was marriage material and I saw a future with her¡ªI just seemed to worry about everything else. Although I had already written the letter, I had to make sure this was the right thing to do. When two weeks passed after I penned it, I finally found the temerity to put it in my pocket and bring it to work with me. After that, the secret pouch became my letter¡¯s refuge, as I was unable to find the right time to give it to her. Although several opportunities presented themselves, I still clung to it for dear life, afraid to lose the hope of happiness my hidden feelings fed me.

    My mind then played devil¡¯s advocate with my heart¡ªI began to consider reasons why she would reject me. What if she felt guilty that being together would betray Diana, and I misread her intentions in getting to know me? Sara was social with everyone at Frugals¡­What if she was just a really nice person who only saw me as a friend? Women did think differently than men, and all because we were best friends didn¡¯t mean she liked me more than that. What if I gave her the letter, put myself out there, and things were never the same between us again? I could hardly breathe as I considered all the things that could go wrong with what I wrote. Although I exhausted every reason under the sun to save my heart from unnecessary pain, the fear of eternal regret became greater¡ªa moment of clarity that made it absolutely necessary for me to reach inside my pocket and hand it to her.

    After we both left work one evening at the same time, I asked her if she wanted to grab a quick bite to eat. She hopped in my car without hesitation, and I then drove us to a local Taco Bell. I planned to hand her the letter on the ride over, but we were so engaged in conversation, the right moment never presented itself. As I reached into my pocket to pay for our meals, I went inside the wrong one and pulled out the letter instead. As I quickly scrambled to stuff it back inside my pocket, I shot a glance at Sara to see if she noticed what I held in my hand wasn¡¯t money, but her eyes were fortunately elsewhere. I then let out a huge sigh of relief and handed the cashier a ten-dollar bill. After we ate, I drove us back to the Frugals¡¯ parking lot, but before she exited my car, I was determined to get this six-week monster off my mind.

    ¡°Hey, Sara?¡± I asked as I slowly removed the letter from its two-week home. ¡°Can I give this to you?¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± She replied as she took my folded heart from me. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a letter I wrote¡ªwill you please read it when you get a chance?¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± She replied as she opened my car¡¯s door. ¡°Goodnight.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight, Sara.¡±

    I waited for her to get inside her car, but after she waved goodbye as she drove off, I stayed there for a few minutes to catch my breath before I drove home. After I handed her my heart, I warned myself that no matter what, I couldn¡¯t make her feel responsible for my happiness or sadness. If she rejected me, I would respect her decision and not treat her differently¡ªall I could ask for was her honesty. I truly wanted the best for her, and if I wasn¡¯t the best one to take care of her heart, then I had to accept it, no matter how bad the sting. I had to show her the nobility of a knight; otherwise, my armor could never shine brightly enough for her to recognize me as one.

    During the following four days we worked together, not a single word passed between us. With a silence that resonated ever so loudly, I feared her verdict too much to be ready to hear it. All I wanted to do was hold onto false hope¡ªthe belief that I hadn¡¯t obliterated all that ever existed between us with my letter. For the last six months, Sara and I were inseparable, but after I exposed the very core of me, we were suddenly nothing less than strangers under a moonless sky. Like a magician who didn¡¯t have a hat to hide the rabbit in, what right did I ever have to believe in the magic of love between us? Sara became my best friend and over time, her warmth made it impossible for a man, who was always out in the cold, to further deny the sun. I never thought I¡¯d be frozen out of her heart, left outside to thaw out on my own. The more I held onto false hope though, the more I lived in the two ways I always refused to¡ªdishonestly and regretfully. I had hoped Sara would see the letter as a romantic gesture¡ªwords she could always hold me to because they were true. In this day and age though, where people played games with each other, I possibly played my hand too soon and scared her. Or, maybe she simply didn¡¯t want to date someone she worked with? Then again, maybe she feared our relationship could jeopardize her friendship with Diana. Whatever it was that made her avoid me, I couldn¡¯t blame her. To go from best friends to a romantic couple was not only a difficult transition but also awkward to communicate. I wanted to tell her in person about my feelings, but was afraid to get caught up in all the emotions and then leave out an important detail I wanted her to know. I tried to play it cool like most men, but in reality, I was a hopeless idealist and a handwritten letter of feelings seemed to be the more romantic route. When I could no longer deny that my letter not only gave her my heart but also power over me, I decided against all hope to accept my fate. I found Sara at the most ideal time as she knelt down, straightening products on the shampoo aisle¡ªwhich made it a little harder for her to run away from me.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Hey, stranger.¡± I smiled as I hovered above her.

    ¡°Hey.¡± She replied flatly without making eye contact.

    ¡°Did you read my letter?¡± I asked reluctantly.

    ¡°I did.¡± She sighed.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I nodded, then turned away to flee the scene.

    ¡°Can we talk about it tonight after work? You¡¯re off at nine too, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am. I¡¯ll meet you outside by your car.¡±

    When the clock struck nine, I braced myself for the ground to crumble beneath me. After seeing and talking to her nearly every single day for the last six months, when I talked to her after four days of silence, she didn¡¯t even look at me. I went to school because I wanted to be a writer, but on the most important writing assignment of my life¡­I failed. I spent two weeks on a letter because I wanted to begin a new chapter in my life with the most important person that ever walked into it, yet my reader never made it past the prologue. I must have clearly misread everything and ruined a good thing between us with my letter. I knew it¡ªshe knew it¡ªlet¡¯s just get it over with. I didn¡¯t know if she left the store, but when I approached her car, she was already inside of it. Time seemed to stand still when she reached across to open her passenger side door after she saw me, but even before I grabbed the door handle, I already felt a great sense of dread. Once inside, the pine scent from the hanging tree-shaped air freshener pleasantly filled her car, contrasting my sense of impending doom. As I sat down in my electric chair, I waited for her to speak¡ªor to place the helmet of electrodes over my head.

    ¡°When did you start liking me, Landyn?¡± She asked calmly as she looked ahead and not at me.

    ¡°I would say about three months ago.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d you wait so long to tell me?¡±

    ¡°Well, I was worried about how you would take it. I didn¡¯t want to ruin a good thing¡ªyou know, our friendship.¡±

    ¡°Did I ever tell you that I remember your first day here?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I replied, surprised. ¡°You remember that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­I thought you were stuck up.¡± She revealed. ¡°You never said ¡°hi¡± to me or anything when you first started working here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I gave you that impression. I¡¯m a quiet person when I don¡¯t know people. I¡¯ve always been kind of reserved.¡±

    ¡°You never said ¡®good morning¡¯ or ¡®goodnight.¡¯¡± She cut me off as she continued to look out beyond her windshield. ¡°You never even asked me, ¡®how are you?¡¯¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    I started to sense her friendship was a power move¡ªfor not dating Diana even though she had a boyfriend, and for being antisocial when I first started working at Frugals. All I could do was wait for her to throw my letter back at me in a crumpled ball at this point.

    ¡°You never talked to me for an entire year, Landyn.¡± She elaborated. ¡°That was the norm before I started talking to you.¡±

    If I came off as ¡°stuck up,¡± it wasn¡¯t intentional¡ªI never assume anyone cares if I say ¡°hi¡± to them or not. I would¡¯ve never blown off people, especially those I walked past, but our paths hardly crossed, if at all, during my first year. I should have been more cordial to Sara though¡ªwe worked an entire year together and I could¡¯ve acknowledged her more, even in a small way.

    ¡°You¡¯re right and I¡¯m sorry. I totally understand how you feel.¡± I said as I grabbed the door handle prepared to leave her car. ¡°Have a¡ª¡±

    ¡°The truth is, Landyn.¡± She continued as she still refused to look in my direction.

    ¡°¡ªgood night.¡± My voice tapered off as I remained inside with my hand still on the handle.

    ¡°The way you acted bothered me sooo much, and I¡¯ve come to realize I¡¯ve liked you since the day I met you.¡± She declared. ¡°As I got to know you over the last six months, I learned I was completely wrong about you.¡±

    ¡°You were?¡± I replied in surprise but then tried to recover. ¡°I mean¡­over time I was confident you¡¯d find out, sooner or later, that I wasn¡¯t that bad of a guy.¡±

    ¡°I was relieved that you didn¡¯t listen to me and dated Diana¡ªit would¡¯ve broken my heart. I¡¯m glad you said no to her¡­so my answer is yes.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    Sara then broke her gaze from the windshield and shifted her body to face me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be your girlfriend.¡±

    I had no idea how to react¡ªher answer was the last thing I expected and drowned me in the waves of disbelief and elation. Sara and I were best friends and never kissed before¡ªa hurdle we had in front of us after a long friendship. I wanted to save the kiss for our first date so instead, gave her a long, warm hug. As we embraced, I deeply savored the moment¡ªthe happiest one of my entire life. It took six months and the longest gut-wrenching six weeks of my life, but I finally felt what I waited nineteen long years to feel, and it felt sweeter than I ever believed it would. The following year, we created many fond memories, and our co-workers were happy to see us as a couple. We even took a few classes together in junior college¡ªSara studied political science while I studied English. Every morning I awakened to a dream and felt like the luckiest man on Earth.

    During the first month of our relationship, after we shared our first kiss, we quickly went from friends to lovers. The second month in, one night while we spoke on the phone, Sara blurted out that she loved me but hung up before I could respond. I then immediately called her back to ask her what she said. When she said it again, I told her I loved her too, although I could¡¯ve told her that even before we were together. As we got closer, we naturally became more intimate. Each time I touched her and she touched me¡ªI fell more in love with her. Her soft skin was remarkably irresistible and she made me feel handsome for the first time in my life. During the first year, we kissed, we hugged, we cuddled, and we held hands, but since we lived with our parents, anything past that was hard to come by. This was my first girlfriend and everything was new to me, but the closer we became, the more I wanted her sexually. About four months into our relationship, I decided to test the waters. One night while we kissed inside my car, I decided to maneuver my hand from her face to the side of her body. When she didn¡¯t stop me, I began to slowly slide my hands into her pants to feel her soft bottom. When she allowed me to do that, I began to unbutton her jeans, but all I felt were her pursed lips upon mine. When I opened my eyes, hers stared right back at me. Suddenly unsure of myself, I pulled away and she made a confession to me¡ªshe was a virgin and had no plans to change that until she was married. My hormones then rallied against her¡ªhow could you love your boyfriend, yet be unwilling to make love to him? My friends were all experiencing sex and I was already twenty, yet I had a girlfriend and still had to wait at least another five years? As I looked into Sara¡¯s innocent eyes though, I also saw how extremely special our relationship was¡ªhow many people could honestly say they ended up with their first? She commanded respect from a man who claimed to love her, and I also couldn¡¯t stomach the thought of her being in arms other than my own. There was a purity we both shared and when the time was right, we would get to experience that together. What we had was truly special enough to hold out for and I was completely on board.

    Although I respected Sara¡¯s boundaries, the world around me showed me no mercy. I had several friends who were in college, and they frequently shared stories with me of their sexual conquests. I also had friends with girlfriends who told me the things they did on a daily basis. Whenever my single friends invited me to visit them, they always wanted to show me the new porno movie they had. I even had to borrow a few of them just to get me through those days when it got to be too much. As hard as it was, I had so much fun with Sara that it didn¡¯t weigh on me too heavily¡ªI had plans to marry her. I never discounted the importance of sex; it mattered a lot to me, but I also knew true love never centered around it. If our relationship was just about sex, our marriage had less of a chance of working out. As the pressure around me grew, not one time did I consider breaking up with her¡ªI saw the beauty in being married to someone who I was her one and only, and she was mine.

    The biggest hurdle I faced to fight off my desire to make love to Sara, was not just my great attraction to her¡ªI also had a sex drive that seemed to be in constant overdrive. It was the picture of her in a bikini that sparked the fire in my heart for her. She had a petite and tan, slender body with curves in the right places, and I fantasized about having sex with her all the time. One night, I finally got her to agree to let me take her to a jacuzzi I always talked about after a fellow coworker took a group of us there one night. It was located in a gated condominium community in Palos Verdes Estates, just off the cliffs, and a good friend of his lived there. His buddy encouraged us to hop the gate and use it whenever we wanted to, and we did¡ªseveral times actually, with a case of beer after work before I dated Sara. I had little hope she would ever come to the jacuzzi with me since she had to scale an eight-foot iron fence to get in because the gate locked from both sides when it got dark. I often fantasized about her wet skin against mine, so when she agreed to go, I was beyond ecstatic, emotional even. We went to the beach a couple of times together, but there were always too many people around to do anything she felt comfortable with¡ªwe were never affectionate in public. To finally be somewhere private, to finally feel her soft wet skin and to hold and touch her while she wore a bikini, was a big deal. Before we departed to the spa of ecstasy for our Saturday night date, Sara told me she planned to change into her bikini in the backseat of my car. When we arrived at our destination, she then informed me of the ground rules.

    ¡°You can¡¯t look at me, Landyn¡ªI¡¯m serious.¡± She instructed. ¡°No peeking through the rearview mirror!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m your boyfriend, Sara!¡± I laughed with a hint of disappointment in my tone. ¡°It¡¯s dark out¡ªyou know I can¡¯t see well, anyway.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean. Not until we¡¯re married.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just wear your bikini under your clothes? Then you could¡¯ve just taken off your clothes and you wouldn¡¯t be naked at all.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t feel comfortable and I didn¡¯t want my parents to say anything in case it looked funky.¡±

    ¡°Ah... got it.¡± I replied, not knowing there was an issue with comfort or funkiness.

    I never thought Sara was prudish¡ªI knew how much her purity meant to her, and I respected her a great deal. Although it was tough on my raging hormones and hard not to take personally, at the same time it made me feel special¡ªthat in an impure world, she wanted to save that part of herself for me. If there was ever a person worthy of wearing a white dress on her wedding day, it was Sara, and I felt honored to be her boyfriend.

    ¡°You promise you won¡¯t look?¡± She asked again.

    ¡°Huh? Promise what?¡±

    ¡°Landyn!¡±

    ¡°Oh! That.¡± I teased before I leaned in to kiss her. ¡°I promise.¡±

    When we reached the condo complex, I parked on an adjacent hillside road, about sixty yards away. Without opening a door, she jumped over my car¡¯s center console and into the back seat of my Toyota Tercel. As she began to undress, my rearview mirror called out to me, but as tempted as I was, I refused to betray her trust¡ªa promise was a promise. When I brought my eyes to the ground to fight off the urge to look, I suddenly heard a knock on the passenger side window¡ªsince they were tinted, I couldn¡¯t see who it was.

    ¡°What was that?¡± She whispered then remained still as if she heard a T-Rex.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I responded, more concerned I¡¯d break my promise.

    When I heard two more louder knocks upon the same window, I reached across the center console and rolled it down slightly.

    It was a cop.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± He asked sternly.

    ¡°Hi, officer. I¡¯m just meeting up with some friends.¡± I answered, trying to keep Sara incognito. ¡°They should be here any minute.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on back there?¡± He inquired then began to shine his flashlight into the backseat.

    ¡°Uh, that¡¯s my girlfriend¡ªshe¡¯s just getting dressed.¡± I said, perturbed by his action¡ªhe probably just saw more of my girlfriend than I ever had. The more he shone his flashlight on her though, I imagined the deer in headlights look Sara likely gave him. I then saw the comedy in the situation¡ªand that was never a good thing.

    ¡°What¡¯s so damn funny?¡± He asked. ¡°Are you high?¡±

    ¡°No, officer.¡± I told him as I fought back my laughter. ¡°I don¡¯t even smoke cigarettes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it! Get out of the car!¡± He roared. ¡°Both of you out! Now!¡±

    I immediately jumped out of the vehicle and noticed there were two officers¡ªtwo blue-clad, tall and muscular white males. I then heard two feet hit the ground thirty seconds later, the only evidence I had of Sara emerging from my car. As the sounds of her feet shuffling upon the asphalt and the ruffling of her clothes as she tried to cover herself fueled my visual imagination, my focus remained on the promise I made to her. While I honored her wish though, I still found it difficult to hold in my laughter.

    ¡°So, why are you two here again?¡± Asked the same cop who first spoke to us as he shone the flashlight directly upon my face.

    ¡°We¡¯re just meeting some friends here.¡± I said with my eyes nearly closed. ¡°We planned to meet here then head out to a party.¡±

    ¡°Why here?¡± The other officer, who was bald, inquired.

    ¡°One of my friends used to live at those condos.¡± I said as I pointed down to the complex. ¡°He knew we were familiar with them, so he told us to wait for him here.¡±

    The cop I spoke with then shone his flashlight on Sara, and then back to me, and then on her again. When he brought the light back to me and saw a grin still on my face, I sealed our fate.

    ¡°Is this your car, Chuckles?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Yes, it is. Did you need to see my registration?¡±

    ¡°No¡ªwe¡¯re just gonna search it instead.¡±

    I guess he hoped to see the smile on my face disappear, but I only met his grin with one as Sara and I both stepped away from the car. As they conducted their search, I could only think of the real criminals they missed out on harassing. My car was always clean; I didn¡¯t do drugs, I wasn¡¯t drinking, nor did I have any alcohol in my car¡ªthis was a total waste of their time. Palos Verdes wasn¡¯t known for its high crime rate, so they had to find excitement when they could. I then took a chance and shot a glance over at Sara while she clutched her clothes against her body. When she shook her head at me and whispered something, I couldn¡¯t hear it. I could only assume they were words of disgust, so I looked away and up into a star-filled sky. As their search continued into its fifth minute, and I flirted with the endless temptation to check my girlfriend out, I then cracked.

    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna find anything. I think you¡¯re wasting your time.¡± I shouted out to them.

    ¡°Oh, really? We¡¯re not gonna find anything?¡± Replied the bald cop as his head rose above the roof from the passenger side of my car. ¡°Would you say this is ¡®nothing¡¯?¡±

    He then slowly strutted around my car towards us as he slapped an object in his hand several times¡ªa survival knife I had forgotten about that was under my seat. There were many car jackings in the Harbor City area several months earlier at the time, and I didn¡¯t own a gun. At five-foot eight and a hundred fifty pounds, I wasn¡¯t going to intimidate anyone, let alone someone with a weapon. I was just trying to give myself a chance, and to protect Sara, in the event I had no other choice. When the hairless officer stood before me and met his partner on the other side of the car, their facial expressions, as they looked at me in repulsion, suggested they had just solved the O.J. Simpson murder case.

    ¡°Um¡­yeah¡ªI forgot about that.¡±

    ¡°I bet you did, Chuckles.¡± Remarked the dark-haired cop.

    ¡°Whoa! I only carry that for protection¡ªI live in Harbor City.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well you¡¯re not supposed to carry a knife in your car¡ªit¡¯s considered a concealed weapon.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that. I¡¯ll definitely take it out of my car the minute I get home tonight.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to.¡± Retorted chrome dome as he clipped the knife to the side of his belt. ¡°Have a wonderful evening.¡±

    Before they drove off, Sara huffed at me then jumped into the backseat of the car and closed both doors. While I assumed she got into her bikini, I sulked over the loss of my means to a continued existence and waited for her to finish. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of a door open and then slam as she reappeared. When I looked over, her hair was up and she had a teal tank top over her bikini top with gray and teal short shorts¡ªa look her body seemed to be made for. As she rendered me speechless, I suddenly cared a lot less about my lost weapon. I wanted to say she looked great, but with a scowl on her face, I didn¡¯t know how well-received it would be. As we walked silently down a small hill to the gate of the community, I tried not to ruin the moment, but I couldn¡¯t help but burst out into laughter.

    ¡°Really, Landyn?¡± She turned to me. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°What was so funny? You know he wouldn¡¯t have made me get out of the car if you hadn¡¯t started laughing!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry¡ªI just can¡¯t help it.¡± I said as I broke into a hearty laugh. ¡°You¡¯re just so conservative, and you put in so much thought and effort so that no one, not even your own boyfriend, would see you naked¡ªthen these strangers just show up from out of nowhere and end up seeing you in the nude. I visualized you back there trying to dodge the flashlight, throwing punches at it, hoping they couldn¡¯t see you. Just what are the chances of that happening at the very moment you¡¯re getting changed?¡±

    ¡°I know¡ªthat is pretty funny.¡± She said as she laughed with me. ¡°Just my luck!¡±

    ¡°I thought those kinds of things only happened to me!¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s someone trying to tell me I¡¯m too conservative.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡ªthat¡¯s just who you are. I admire that about you.¡±

    ¡°I feel violated.¡±

    ¡°Sara, please¡ªfor all we know, they didn¡¯t see anything. I was just joking about them seeing you naked.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think so?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s possible. Fifty-fifty.¡±

    When we reached the gate, I grabbed her hand and she then turned to face me. Sara and I never gazed lovingly at one another, so when she suddenly looked at me, it caught me by surprise.

    ¡°What if we were to make love tonight?¡± She asked, bringing her body against mine.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She replied, bringing her arms across my shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She whispered, then kissed me.

    ¡°I thought you wanted to wait until you were married?¡±

    ¡°You plan to marry me one day, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course, I do but¡­¡±

    ¡°But what?¡± She asked, pulling her lips away from mine.

    ¡°What if I die and we don¡¯t get married? What if?¡±

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s say you don¡¯t die¡ªwhich is more likely to happen?¡±

    ¡°Sara, I know what you want. And as long as I know that, I want you to have that. You¡¯ve waited twenty-two years already¡ªI could never feel right about taking that from you until we¡¯re married. I don¡¯t want you to ever sacrifice who you are for my sake.¡±

    ¡°I know it drives you crazy, Landyn.¡± She said, knowing I couldn¡¯t hide it from her while holding her close in my arms. ¡°I feel I¡¯m being selfish by making you wait.¡±

    ¡°It only drives me crazy because I¡¯m so attracted to you. At the same time, I wouldn¡¯t feel right if it happened any other way than the way you dreamt it. You deserve that from someone who loves you¡ªI¡¯m willing to wait.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing I love about you, Landyn.¡± She said. ¡°You may drive me crazy sometimes, but you¡¯ve always put my feelings above your own.¡±

    ¡°I try.¡± I replied as I tried to taper off my exposed libido. ¡°I try really hard.¡±

    ¡°I can tell!¡± She giggled as I anticipated the realization of a fantasy, and our relationship¡¯s next great moment.

    When I turned twenty-one, a whole new world opened up to me¡ªthe bar scene. I started to go out to clubs, drinking with my friends after work, and it didn¡¯t sit well with her. When she accused me of cheating on her, I had to rethink things. When she accused me of cheating on her, it made me wonder if I was the right one for her. Sure, I¡¯d have a few drinks and girls would talk to me, but nothing ever happened¡ªI would never cheat on anyone, especially someone I considered my best friend. No girl I ever met at the dance clubs could come close to Sara, but the truth was, each time I went out, a part of me subconsciously rebelled against her conservative nature. I wanted her at the dance clubs with me¡ªnot to get wasted, but to let her hair down and have a drink or two. It really broke my heart that she didn¡¯t want to be there with me, and I had to pay attention to that. She also used to tease me about my height, and although it never upset me, that too led me to rethink things. As much as I wanted it to work out between us, I was unsure if I was the right one for her. Then we started to fight with each other¡ªwe¡¯d even get into it at work. She wasn¡¯t happy with me going out, and I wasn¡¯t happy she wouldn¡¯t join me. I thought it was best to break up with her to see if that was what she truly wanted. I also thought it would take care of our disagreements, but there was one problem--I still had strong feelings for her and couldn''t imagine her with someone else.

    After Sara and I broke up, each day I held out hope she needed me¡ªthat she would show me I was the one for her. We remained close, but she just never made me feel safe. While my heart still hoped for us, one day, a blonde-haired male, six to eight inches taller than me, entered the store just to visit with Sara. A few hours after he left the store, I couldn¡¯t fight back the emotions that swelled inside me like a tsunami wave when I saw her hug him before he left. Even though she was no longer my girlfriend, I was crushed¡ªI had to ask her about him when I found her alone in the stockroom. With my stomach in knots, I approached her.

    ¡°Hey.¡± I said.

    ¡°Hey.¡± She replied flatly.

    ¡°Who was that?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Who was what? What are you talkin¡¯ about?¡±

    ¡°That guy who left the store a few hours ago. The one you were hugging.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Tyler¡ªTyler Symenchski. He just transferred to UCLA¡ªhe¡¯s studying political science.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know they had a political science department at UCLA.¡± I questioned as my stomach began to feel uneasy.

    ¡°Yep¡ªhe¡¯s majoring in it.¡± She responded with an eye roll.

    ¡°How do you know him?¡±

    ¡°He was at Harbor my first semester there. We were in the same political science class and sat next to each other. There were only six of us in the class and we became friends. He was Student Body President, and our professor would always tell us he would be the President of the United States someday. He¡¯s always stayed in touch with me.¡±

    ¡°So, you knew him before I asked you to be my girlfriend?¡± I asked¡ªa question I was unsure if I wanted to know.

    ¡°About a month before you gave me the letter.¡± She said with another eye roll. ¡°Anything else you want to interrogate me about?¡±

    ¡°Do you have a crush on him?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± She told me without hesitation. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I like him¡ªI just have a crush on him.¡±

    When Sara told me this, I felt my entire world had just fallen apart. It made me even wonder if she ever loved me at all, and that¡¯s when the tsunami hit the shore.

    ¡°Wait¡ªlet me get this straight.¡± I said as I folded my arms and shook my head in disbelief. ¡°If you have a crush on him that means you don¡¯t like him?¡±

    ¡°It just means I have a crush on him.¡± She quickly shot back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Sara, but I think to have a crush on someone means that you like them too¡ªdon¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°I only have a crush on him! Now drop it! You¡¯re being ridiculous! Shouldn¡¯t you be working, Landyn? I got a lot of work to do.¡±

    ¡°After two years together, how could you do this to me?¡± I shot back.

    ¡°What do you mean? What did I do?¡± She said as she turned to face me, now mimicking my posture¡ªher arms were now folded, too.

    ¡°Why would you bring him in the store, Sara?¡±

    ¡°Landyn, we¡¯re not together anymore¡ªyou broke up with me. Remember?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t because I didn¡¯t have feelings for you. I didn¡¯t break up with you because there was someone else¡ªor that I wanted someone else. I find it really hard to believe you didn¡¯t have feelings for him while we were together. How do you expect me to feel?¡±

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t care.¡± She said harshly, then turned away from me again. ¡°You should really listen to yourself¡ªyou¡¯re not making any sense right now.¡±

    Sara always had a thing for politicians¡ªmen of power. The only thing I ever had power over was the dolly at Frugals. When I noticed Tyler was tall, I recalled all the times she teased me for being short. She would tell me, ¡°you¡¯re five foot seven and a half inches,¡± but I would always counter with, ¡°I¡¯m five foot eight! I round up to the next inch!¡± It was all in good fun, but over time, I wondered if this was why she wanted to remain a virgin ¡°until we were married¡±¡ªbecause she feared having short children. I could understand a woman wanting a taller man if they often wore high heels, but I was taller than her when she did wear high heels. I would never knock her, or any woman for a personal preference, but this was a harsh dig because we were together for two years¡ªwhy even date me at all? The truth was, I never felt inadequate about my height until I met Sara¡ªsomething else my already low self-esteem didn¡¯t need to contend with. It just began to feel like either Sara settled or she felt sorry for me, but that she always believed I was never the right one for her. She was right though¡­I did break up with her, but I did only because I thought she wouldn¡¯t know what she had until it was gone. All it seemed to take was for me to be the bad guy then break things off with us so she could be with Symenchski without the guilt. After I learned she had a crush on another man, an affection that had to take place on some level when we were together, she jettisoned me off into another world. When I reasoned that he was likely a guy she would¡¯ve given her entire self to, even before marriage, she threw gas on a fire inside me that was already lit. It even felt like she wanted to believe I was cheating on her¡ªso it justified her crush on him. Although I wanted her to be happy, it didn¡¯t mean my heart was prepared for this to happen less than a month after we had broken up. For the first time, I was suddenly thrown into the unfamiliar pangs of jealousy, and I struggled to rein in my emotions when I felt played for a fool.

    ¡°Please, Sara.¡± I struggled to say as she turned to face me. ¡°I¡¯m begging you to not encourage him to come around here¡ªit¡¯s too soon.¡±

    ¡°You just have to deal with it, Landyn!¡± She snapped coldly, then walked past me on her way out of the stockroom.

    Before her abrupt careless exit, we stood next to a wooden table bench, about twenty feet in length and three feet off the ground. As she left me alone underwater, drowning in total helplessness, I spotted a hammer lying on the bench and quickly seized it. In a desperate attempt to relieve what I felt inside, I hurled it across the stockroom floor, perpendicular and away from where Sara just exited. When it left my hand, I had an idea where it would go, but what I didn¡¯t anticipate was its ricochet after it bounced off the cement floor towards the area Sara had just vacated¡ªand just mere seconds away from an entering Natalie Zimmerman. While I gasped in fear and regret, Natalie let the accusations fly.

    ¡°Oh my GOD! I know what you did, Landyn! You were trying to hurt Sara!¡± Natalie screamed at me upon her entry in the stockroom.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± I defended as I looked at both her and my boss, Mark Warner, who had also just entered the stockroom.

    ¡°Not true? I heard the entire conversation you just had with her!¡± She exclaimed as she looked back at Mark and then back at me with her hands in the air. ¡°I heard every word!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I was definitely upset with Sara, but I¡¯d never throw a hammer at her.¡± I said as I tried to catch my breath as sweat beaded upon my forehead. ¡°You just happened to come in at the wrong time. I didn¡¯t expect it to hit off the floor like that¡ªit had an equal chance of hitting me.¡±

    ¡°You should have known!¡± Scolded Natalie as she turned to face Sara who stood behind her.

    ¡°Are you okay, Sara? Do you feel Landyn is a threat to your safety?¡± Mark asked.

    With Sara¡¯s eyes fixated on our boss for what felt like an eternity, she shook her head.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Mark asked again.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure¡ªwe¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sara.¡± I told her then looked at Mark, concerned that she could get in trouble. ¡°This was my fault, Mark¡ªit¡¯s just been the worst day of my life. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Landyn, I want you to come to my office in ten minutes.¡± He demanded.

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    After she reassured Mark that everything was fine, he gave her a hug and then exited the stockroom, leaving Sara, Natalie, and myself there. Sara, who continued to treat me like the ghost that I was, then turned to Natalie.

    ¡°Landyn would never hurt me¡­he¡¯s been my best friend for two years.¡± Said Sara as she pointed her tiny index finger at Natalie. ¡°You need to mind your own business¡ªyou were eavesdropping on a personal conversation we were having.¡±

    ¡°But¡­but you guys were arguing and uh¡­he was, uh¡­loud and everything¡­and you told me he broke your heart!¡± Droned Natalie.

    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business¡ªgot it?¡± Responded Sara. ¡°That¡¯s the end of it.¡±

    The more she tried to convince her, the more Sara disagreed. When she lost her battle, Natalie scowled at me and then stormed out of the stockroom. When she disappeared from our view, Sara stood before me with worry etched on her face. I could only bring my eyes to the floor though, unable to look at her¡ªI was too disgusted with myself. After I closed my eyes, I suddenly felt her body against mine. We then used our arms instead of words to bring us closure as the steel tool rested next to us with nothing more to say.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 12 ~ HOW WHITE WHITHERS AWAY

    Tyler Symenchski, the first future President of the United States¡­from a junior college, took Sara¡¯s virginity then cheated on her a few months afterwards. My break-up with Sara only proved what I feared to be true, besides her being magnetically drawn to taller men¡ªshe may have felt love for me, but she never truly loved me. She gave all of herself to this douchebag without question all because he stood about eight more inches off the ground than I did. I actually felt bad for Sara when she told me, but it also took a sizable bite out of my pint-sized ego. Although it stung to know that something I could never change about myself was why I never felt truly loved, it still failed to destroy my belief in true love. Somewhere among the countless millions, the love I believed in existed. Like a shipwreck survivor floating on a piece of driftwood in the middle of unpredictable waters, I had to continue to believe, even beyond hope, in order to survive.

    In 1993, the Frugals store, where I was transferred to after Sara and I broke up and the same store I befriended "Sweetie at, was looted. I was watching the news at home when they showed footage of the store being ransacked then burned to the ground. It turned out someone wanted the insurance money from a store that bled red the previous years before I arrived. Since I couldn¡¯t return to my old store because of Sara, they tried to relocate me to another Frugals store an hour away¡ªbut it would push me back a year or two from getting my degree. When there were no other options made available to me, I suddenly found myself out of work. Since I paid my own way through college this sudden unemployment threatened to make my father¡¯s words about college, prophetic. I had just switched majors and had another two years to go before I got my business degree¡ªI was desperate. I had moved out of my parents¡¯ home just three months earlier and the last thing I wanted to do was move back. On the same day I had no other choice but to talk to my father about returning home, my roommate told me about an opportunity in a daycare center at the school where his mother worked. It was a Lutheran Church with a school that taught kindergarten through the eighth grade, just minutes away from our place. When he proposed it to me, I was skeptical. Could I make the same money working at a daycare center as I did working at Frugals? I didn¡¯t get paid much at Frugals, but they gave me forty hours a week and benefits¡ªenough to afford my monthly expenses, including tuition. When I learned during the interview, I would work fewer hours but make a dollar an hour more, I couldn¡¯t accept the position fast enough. My Friday nights were now freed up again¡ªI wouldn¡¯t have to work until three in the morning anymore and only had a five-minute drive to work. My job responsibilities would also be substantially less, which allowed me to concentrate more on my studies. Not to mention, I couldn¡¯t imagine it was less fun supervising kids than unloading a truck at midnight.

    I always enjoyed being around children¡ªtheir innocence is one of the best things about life, and it made me naturally protective of them. Although I didn¡¯t have a bad childhood, I felt part of it was robbed by my father¡¯s bitterness. I didn¡¯t hate my father; I understood where his unhappiness came from, but it definitely strained our relationship. I couldn¡¯t help but feel he took something away from me every kid needed¡ªself-confidence. I didn¡¯t want any child I came across to ever doubt themselves and to have it rob them of their childhood experience the way it did mine. Since I didn¡¯t have children of my own, I buffered that disappointment with the relationships I built with the kids at the daycare. I hoped to preserve their innocence by warding off the bitterness of people who had the joy of their childhood taken from them. I even lived vicariously through them¡ªto better understand all that was taken from me. I thought supervising kids would be a way to relive the times I never enjoyed during my own childhood¡ªand to also help me deal with the disappointment in not having children of my own yet. I always dreamt of coming home from work to a son or daughter, but it seemed I would be in my early thirties before that dream came true, if at all, and it caused a lot of sleepless nights. My father had a son when he was twenty-seven, but he was dating my mother for eight years¡ªI was twenty-six and not dating anyone.

    My father was none too pleased when I took the daycare position. Even after I explained that it gave me a chance to finish school quicker and maximize my grade point average, he didn¡¯t care. According to him, I made a colossal mistake when I didn¡¯t take a job on the docks. In his eyes, he was married by the time he was twenty-seven and I should be too. Even when I didn¡¯t live under his roof, he took shots at me whenever I visited. I didn¡¯t need the reminder that I was behind in life¡ªit already ate me up alive and spit me out. I never received help from him for college, just taunts of not being able to make it. He even gave me a hard time whenever I needed to use his computer to finish an assignment because my computer was down¡ªI couldn¡¯t afford a new one or to get it fixed. My mother always gave me an oar for positive strokes, but my father would just break it over my head. The daycare job became my spare oar and it allowed me to see the lighter side of life when the world seemed against me. I hoped to impress upon them to embrace what their passions were as early as possible with a higher education in mind. I didn¡¯t want any of them to end up like me at twenty-six years old¡ªa breathing cautionary tale. During my first few weeks there, I learned most of the kids were from divorced families. I then not only felt obligated to supervise them but also help fill the void they may have felt in their lives. When I landed the job, I never imagined I would face such a role. The more I thought about it though, the more I couldn¡¯t escape the reason I was chosen for this¡ªwho was more qualified to teach kids how to deal with feeling alone than someone who knew everything about it?

    On my first day on the job, my attempt to connect with them didn¡¯t go the way I envisioned. When I walked inside the daycare center to supervise the morning group of kindergarteners, there was no one there¡ªthey were all playing outside. When I walked out onto the blacktop, there were a group of kids being supervised on the field below, and another group being supervised by someone on the blacktop. Since it looked like there was adequate supervision outside, I turned around to walk back inside but noticed a lone child in the sandbox-swings area. When I reached the little tike while she sat in the swing, she didn¡¯t acknowledge my presence. She had short, wavy blonde hair and green eyes with a hint of frustration on her tiny face. I then sat down in the swing next to her but that didn¡¯t even get her attention. She suddenly kicked her legs out, but the swing didn¡¯t budge. She then thrusted her tiny white and red-kneed legs out again hoping that would do the trick, but the swing remained still.

    ¡°Hey, kiddo.¡± I said unsure how to present myself properly to her. ¡°Would you like me to push you?¡±

    ¡°Nooo!¡± She shouted without looking at me.

    ¡°Are you afraid?¡±

    ¡°Nooo!¡± She shouted again.

    I couldn¡¯t say the same for myself¡ªI was afraid my new co-workers thought I was murdering her.

    ¡°Oh, you can swing on your own?¡± I asked as she kicked her legs out again to no avail.

    ¡°Yes!¡± She said while she kept her legs out and the swing remained unresponsive.

    ¡°Great! Can you please show me how to swing? I¡¯ve been wanting to learn. I always see all the other kids get sooo high¡­I mean super high and I¡¯m like way down here.¡± I said as I pointed to the sky and then into the sand below. ¡°It makes me sad because I wanna get high up in the air like them. Do you think you can show me how?¡±

    She nodded then bit her lip and put her legs out. I then tried to kick my own legs out to stay on her level¡ªI didn¡¯t want to show her up.

    ¡°Oh, I see¡­like this.¡± I said as I stuck my legs out but stayed still to mimic her.

    She then shook her head and stuck her legs out again, yielding the same result.

    ¡°I got an idea.¡± I said then jumped off my swing and got behind her. I then grabbed both chains on her swing and brought her back as she kept her legs out.

    ¡°Keep your legs out, okay? Hold on tight!¡± I said as I pulled her back a few inches before I lightly let her go.

    She kept her legs extended, but she was just too small to generate momentum. I encouraged her to keep her legs out to give her the impression she was doing it by herself, but I would push her just a bit harder each time she kicked to make it seem she did it on her own.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Jilly.¡± She replied quickly as a smile broke upon her face.

    ¡°Look how high you are! I¡¯ve never been that high on a swing before!¡±

    ¡°Higher!¡± Jilly ordered.

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± I exclaimed as I pushed her a little harder.

    While I pushed her and she demanded to go higher, Jilly started to sing all the classics, from ¡°Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star¡± to ¡°The Alphabet Song¡±. I encouraged her to kick out her legs, bring them back in and then kick them out again¡ªeach time she did, she would go even higher. Fifteen minutes later, I stepped away and stood next to her¡ªshe was swinging all on her own.

    ¡°Nooo.¡± She said when she saw me standing next to her.

    ¡°Look at you, Jilly girl! You¡¯re doing it all on your own!¡± I encouraged. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a ladder to get you down you¡¯re so high!¡±

    ¡°I want you to push me.¡± She whined.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I caved when she stopped swinging on her own¡ªeither too scared to continue or to put me back to work. While she broke into ¡°One, Two, Buckle My Shoe¡±, I continued to push her for another twenty minutes. When I saw the other kids go back inside the daycare center, a half hour after my encounter with Jilly began, it was time for us to go back inside as well.

    ¡°Alright, Jilly girl¡ªwe have to go inside now.¡± I said as I now flanked her.

    ¡°Nooo!¡± She shouted at the top of her lungs.

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Nooo!¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Nooo...¡± She cried. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll push you on the swings later, okay?¡± I said as I gently placed my hand on her tiny back. ¡°Do you need help gettin¡¯ down?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a meanie!¡± She shouted.

    ¡°A what?¡± I smirked.

    ¡°You¡¯re a meeeeeeeanie!¡± She blared again with extra emphasis.

    ¡°Sorry Jilly girl, but we gotta go back inside now.¡± I said then picked her up from out of the swing and placed her on the ground.

    I thought she would jump back on the swing, but she just called me a ¡°meanie¡± again to drive the point home. As we walked together back to the daycare center, she stopped then extended her arms out to me¡ªshe wanted a free ride to our destination. As she sat on my shoulders on our way back, she made sure I knew I was a ¡°meanie¡± a few more times.

    ¡°I never thought I¡¯d say this, but I miss ¡®One, Two Buckle My Shoe¡¯¡±. I said before I put her on the ground. She then ran inside to join the rest of the kids while I questioned the meaning of my existence.

    Two weeks after the ¡°Jilly Experience,¡± I still felt disconnected with most of the kids. I thought supervising children would be a piece of cake, but I found it difficult to build a bond with the kindergarteners. One spring morning while I patrolled the schoolyard¡¯s blacktop during their play time, I noticed a small boy all by himself on the soccer field below. In contrast to the large group of kindergartners congregated on the asphalt above, it seemed he made the executive decision to excuse himself from the activity. When I approached him, I didn¡¯t recognize the light brown-haired dissenter with pulsar blue eyes and huge cheeks, but the school often received new kids.

    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s goin¡¯ on down here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hi. Oh, nothin¡¯.¡± He claimed.

    The little guy left me speechless¡ªhe greeted me and was polite. With each step he took though, his face never left the grass he kicked at. I then flashbacked to times when I was too shy to interact with new people. Although I wondered why no one integrated him into the group when we were all in the daycare center, I took this as an opportunity to connect and create a bond with him.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± He asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s Landyn.¡± I replied in complete shock. ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°Albert.¡± He said in a sad tone as he looked up at me while the sun intruded into his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s really nice to meet you, Al.¡± I said as I knelt down so that he didn¡¯t have to look up into the sun. ¡°Do you mind if I call you Al? You¡¯re not gonna beat me up, right?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He smiled widely as he suddenly stopped kicking at the grass.

    ¡°Whew! Okay good! Thank you, Al! I was worried!¡± I said as I put my hand up for him to slap it.

    He then flashed another smile and quickly gave me a high-five.

    ¡°Why are you down here all by yourself?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anybody.¡±

    ¡°What? You mean to tell me that no one, not one person up there, knows my new friend, Al?¡±

    He then shook his head and kicked at the grass again.

    ¡°Then that means¡­I don¡¯t know if I should say it.¡±

    ¡°Say what?¡± His asked excitedly.

    ¡°That you just came from outer space?¡±

    He then stopped kicking the grass and looked up at me in complete confusion.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you I came from outer space!¡± He laughed.

    ¡°You had to come from outer space! No one knows who you are!¡± I stated. ¡°What planet did you come from? Can I see your spaceship? Where¡¯d you park it?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t come from outer space¡­I came from here. I don¡¯t have a spaceship.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think you do have a spaceship and I think it¡¯s time to get in it and meet some new friends.¡± I said as I picked him up and placed him on my shoulders. ¡°Alright, strap yourself in! Hold on tight! Here we go! Four-three-two-one¡­liftoff! We have liftoff!¡±

    I pretended to throw a seatbelt on him, and I even made the spaceship control sounds for him as well. I then ran carefully up the steps and onto the asphalt. When we got to the group, I lifted him off my shoulders and brought him to the asphalt as if he had a jetpack. When his feet touched the ground, I saluted him¡ªhe even saluted me back. I then backed away from him while he stood before the group of kids who were now curious¡ªalong with the other daycare supervisor.

    ¡°We have a visitor.¡± I announced. ¡°His name is Albert, and he¡¯s super cool¡ªhe even lets me call him Al! Although he denies it, I think he just got back from outer space and would like to make new friends. Can you please show him how to play this game you¡¯re playin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Sure, Mr. Lastman!¡± Said one of the girls who grabbed his hand and began to integrate him into the group activity. All I could do was stand there in disbelief at how smooth it all went. The minute I saw him on the field with his eyes on the ground, it reminded me of the times I was too shy to be social because of my low self-esteem issues. I had to change what his tender five-year old mind absorbed while he kicked at the grass¡ªbefore he pulled it out of the ground like I did.

    From that point on I never saw Al playing alone again. He even became one of the more popular kids, and that made me feel less worthless. One day he asked if I would babysit him, but I told him he would have to ask his parents. When his parents approached me with the offer, there was no way I could say no¡ªhe was a well-behaved kid and his parents were great people who rarely got a night out together. During those nights we hung out, we ordered pizza and he made sure I knew all the current shows¡­on Nickelodeon. One night while we played Mario Brothers, I found it ironic that I gave up my pursuit of an English degree to find myself in a teacher¡¯s environment¡ªthe very one I ran from. The kids at the daycare though gave me a welcomed respite from the stress of the real world, and never more so than when I was made aware about the hardship of a particular nine-year old boy. A four-foot five, green-eyed, fair-skinned, white-haired kid named Ryan who was literally on his death bed at the age of four, dying of starvation in Belarus. Fortunately, he was adopted by a prestigious American couple while they were in his country on business. Even though letting him out of class and into the daycare was like letting a bull on steroids loose into a hospital, I connected with him through sports. I taught him how to play baseball, football, and basketball, much to the appreciation of the other daycare staff. Although he could be a handful at times, he also had a different perspective on life than most kids, and even most adults. I was super sensitive to his plight, but there were times I had to be tough on him¡ªto instill a sense of discipline when a time for him to learn arose.

    ¡°I no wanna play no more!¡± Ryan barked at me in his ruffian Belarus accent. ¡°This game is stupid!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to play basketball if you don¡¯t want to. You¡¯re always free to go inside the Daycare center and do something else if you want.¡± I reminded him.

    ¡°I no wanna go in there!¡± He shouted then took the basketball and kicked it down onto the field. The other eight kids on the court groaned then looked at me to do something.

    ¡°Ryan¡­go down to the field right now and bring that ball back!¡± I sternly instructed. ¡°In fact, I want you to run down to the field and bring the ball back. Now go. You have ten seconds¡ªten¡­nine¡­eight¡­¡±

    ¡°No! You not playin¡¯ right!¡± He said then stomped his right foot. ¡°I not going! I sit! So, there!¡±

    ¡°Ryan, we all agreed that if I played, I couldn¡¯t shoot the ball or score¡ªit¡¯s not fun that way. I told you before the game started that if you picked me on your team, I could only pass the ball.¡± I explained. ¡°That¡¯s no excuse for you to kick the ball on the field. Now either you get up and go get the ball or you¡¯re gonna sit there for a long time. Is that what you really wanna do? Just sit there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I wanna do and gonna do!¡± He shouted, sat down, crossed his arms in defiance and nodded.

    ¡°Fair enough¡­but if you don¡¯t get that ball in seven seconds, you¡¯re gonna sit there for the next thirty minutes! Seven¡­six¡­¡±

    ¡°What? Thirty minutes? That¡¯s child abuse!¡±

    ¡°Five¡­four.¡±

    ¡°I hate you!¡±

    ¡°Oh, geez Rye, I hope I can make it through the night¡ªI just hope you won¡¯t be sittin¡¯ here through the night.¡± I countered. ¡°Three¡­two.¡±

    ¡°I WISH I WAS BACK IN BELARUS!¡± He hollered.

    Kids were always dramatic, but Ryan¡¯s ¡°I wish I was back in Belarus¡± outburst was in a league all its own since he was actually dying of starvation in Belarus. At a time I reprimanded a child that badly needed it, the last thing I wanted to do was laugh, but I never got to ¡°one¡±¡ªI lost it.

    ¡°Is it really that bad, Ryan? Really?¡±

    He gave me no answer as he tightened his folded arms, puffed out his chest and then grinned at me.

    ¡°Just get up.¡± I laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t ruin any more games for everyone else¡ªI know you¡¯re better than that. We were all havin¡¯ a lot of fun before you kicked the ball on the field.¡±

    ¡°I go get the ball.¡± He replied then sprang from the ground, sprinted onto the field and handed me the basketball.

    ¡°Still wish you were back in Belarus?¡± I asked as we walked back onto the court to restart the game.

    ¡°No.¡± He replied.

    ¡°Good to know.¡± I said as I bounced the ball lightly off of his head.

    ¡°Can you babysit me this weekend?¡±

    ¡°Sorry Ryan, I can¡¯t.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°No? How come?¡±

    ¡°I would, but I¡¯m goin¡¯ to Belarus this weekend¡ªthat place sounds like a lot of fun.¡±

    Needless to say, I forwent my trip to Belarus and babysat him instead that weekend. Ryan had come a long way in just five years¡ªsome people went their entire lives unable to put traumatic events behind them. Although I tried to teach kids when I could, there were times they taught me as well. I always tried to have a unique connection with each kid at the daycare. Either through a game we always played together or a problem we worked on a solution for, to build their trust so they felt comfortable coming to me if they needed to. I had my favorites at the daycare, but I never played favorites¡ªI just wanted to be fair and there for them.

    I spent more time supervising the boys than I did the girls. Since my co-workers were mostly female, they didn¡¯t mind at all¡ªthe boys were the crazier ones. It also seemed to be an unwritten rule at the daycare among the supervisors, but it made sense. I loved outdoor sports and organized most of the activities for the boys centered on basketball, baseball, football, soccer, and even roller hockey. The girls generally liked to stay inside the center with the female supervisors doing¡­only GOD knows what. Sometimes the girls wanted to play sports too, and I always found ways to integrate them into the activities monopolized by mostly disapproving boys. When the boys got sour, I usually joined the girls¡¯ teams and humbled them. Although I hung out with the boys more, I still connected with many of the girls¡ªI always treated both equally. One of those girls was a kindergartner by the name of Maya. She had thin, shoulder-length brown hair, blue eyes, rosy red cheeks, and a four-tooth smile. She was the female version of Albert¡ªdemure and sweet. I only had one goal to make the shy ones feel more comfortable and to be more social¡ªto make them laugh. Maya really took to my strategy but there was one problem¡ªshe latched onto me more than the other kids. While I played all-time quarterback for both teams during a flag football game I organized on the field, she spotted me before I saw her. By the time I did, she ran right on to the field in the middle of the action. I saw this unsuspecting smiling face come bounding onto the grass excited to see me until she got hit by a kid running with the ball. When her body slammed to the ground and she started to wail, I felt helpless and awful. I picked her up, took her inside the daycare center, put band-aids on her ¡°Ouchies,¡± and spent the rest of my shift hanging out with her inside. Thankfully, she wasn¡¯t hurt, but it should¡¯ve never happened. Just before we began a third straight game of Candyland, she had something to tell me.

    ¡°Mr. Lastman?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Tired of Candyland?¡± I smiled and hoped. ¡°Wanna watch a movie? You choose and I¡¯ll put it on.¡±

    ¡°Can we watch Veggie Tales?¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s what you wanna watch¡ªthen we¡¯re watchin¡¯ Veggie Tales.¡± I smiled.

    ¡°I wish you were my Daddy.¡± She said as she rose from the floor and hugged me.

    Her words hit me like a train in the dark. Although it made me feel good, it was also bittersweet¡ªher real father wasn¡¯t getting his due. Maya didn¡¯t come from a broken home, but I still felt obligated to explain myself to her.

    ¡°Very sweet of you to say, Maya. Did you know that we only get to hang out together because of your daddy? When you¡¯re here at the Daycare, you get the ¡°fun¡± Mr. Lastman who plays games all day, but if I was your daddy, I¡¯d have to work all the time just like your daddy does. He works really hard just so you can come to the Daycare and hang out with me! He¡¯s like Superman actually¡­no one really sees all the good things he does when he¡¯s Clark Kent. Without your daddy, we couldn¡¯t play games together because we could never see each other! You¡¯re really lucky to have the daddy you have.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Mr. Lastman¡ªbut I still wish you were my daddy.¡± She said.

    Although Maya didn¡¯t buy what I tried to sell her, for the first time I saw the impact I had on kids. I could tell her father was a real parent¡ªnot just a best friend. I think most parents tried to correct mistakes their own parents made with them, and I¡¯m sure I would be less critical of my kids to resolve the issue I had with my father¡¯s parenting. Some parents took it too far though¡ªthey wanted to be known as the ¡°cool¡± parent. They are more concerned with their child¡¯s approval of them as if their approval meant they had superior parenting skills. That kind of parenting only created entitled superficial human beings that society would eventually be left to deal with. Some parents could pull it off, but most could never do it. Whenever a kid would tell me they wish I was their dad, it told me one of two things¡ªthey either had an abusive parent or a really good one. Maya¡¯s words told me I could make a pretty good dad someday¡ªsomething I always dreamt of being. It also bummed me out too, though¡ªI was running out of time for such a simple dream to come true.

    ¡°If I¡¯m ever lucky enough to become a daddy one day, Maya, and if I have a girl, I hope she¡¯s just like you!¡± I said as I lightly touched the top of her head. ¡°I might even have to name her Maya!¡±

    ¡°Really? If you have a girl, will you invite me over so we could all play together?¡± She asked as she started to hop up and down and clap. ¡°We could play all day long!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know, Maya.¡± I laughed when I visualized the absurdity of the scenario that could only come from the mind of a child.

    I used to get the ¡°I wish you were my Dad¡± quite often. It was always such an honor to hear because if you ever wanted an honest opinion, just ask a child¡ªthey never spun a single thing nor ever played politics. Their candid wish gave my life a real sense of purpose¡ªthe only time I ever felt I made a difference in the world. As much as it warmed my heart, it also saddened me to know their real heroes never got the credit they deserved. I always told the kids the same thing I told Maya¡ªtheir father was the real hero. The kids I connected with usually told their parents about me. Whenever parents approached me, I¡¯d immediately feared I said or did something wrong, but each time they did, it was only to offer me extra money that I always turned down or to thank me. Even the athletic director, my boss, Cal Sutton, took notice when he returned to work after his late morning run.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s your secret?¡± He asked me one day while I sat at the desk next to his as he traded his black Nike tennis shoes for flip flops.

    ¡°Secret? What are you talkin¡¯ about?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I get compliments from parents all the time about you.¡± He revealed as he put a blue Dodgers baseball cap on to hide his receding dark brown hair.

    ¡°Really? I¡¯m just being myself!¡± I laughed. ¡°I¡¯m just tryin¡¯ to keep them all busy while they¡¯re here so our time goes by faster.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more than that, Landyn.¡± He said to me as he rose up from behind his desk.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see it being more than that.¡±

    As he shook his head and grinned, he then took his thin and sunburnt six-foot frame, and swiped away the sand off his Tommy Bahama shorts. He then walked gingerly until he stood in front of the coloring book-laden desk I sat at. Since it was lunch hour, we were the only ones within earshot of each other.

    ¡°You treat them like people. You never talk down to them¡ªyou respect them.¡± He expanded as he used a small brown towel to wipe off the sweat from his arms and legs. ¡°Even though they¡¯re kids and you¡¯re in charge, you never take advantage of your authority¡ªunless you have to.¡±

    He then took the towel, wiped his face with it, and threw it on the chair he just vacated. Placing his hand on his hips, he exhaled and looked at me.

    ¡°I guess I just treat them the way I would like to be treated.¡± I said.

    Childhood should be the best time of our lives¡ªwe had the rest of it to be stressed out and miserable. Life was short enough, especially our childhood. These kids needed to be happy and stress-free because as sure as the sun, one day that will all change on them. I¡¯m certain some were prone to heart disease more than others, and I took it upon myself to delay the inevitable for them. I was able to exercise this personal philosophy of mine when I was asked by Cal to be the head coach of the mixed seventh and eighth grade boys¡¯ basketball team. The school¡¯s Pastor, Tim Farely, along with other church members, were none too pleased after a non-Lutheran and a non-member of the church was asked to head the team. Not to mention, the former head coach¡¯s popularity with the congregation failed to further my cause. After he took the vacant head coaching position at another school and transferred there, he offered to play us in an exhibition game. This invitation ran deeper than a mere exhibition though; he wanted to prove that Cal Sutton made a bad choice in allowing me to coach the team. When Cal offered the position to me, I initially turned it down¡ªI was going to school full-time and wanted to concentrate on my studies. He then allowed me to sit on it for a week after I declined.

    Before I started working at the daycare, there was little to no interest in basketball among the kids. They were far more interested in soccer, but after I organized daily basketball games, more kids enjoyed it. To keep from ten to twenty kids engaged for a couple of hours each day at the daycare of sixty kids was no small feat, and it helped the other supervisors focus on fine tuning their arts and crafts skills, an ability I certainly didn¡¯t possess. When I asked the seventh and eighth grade boys if they planned to play soccer or basketball this year, most of them told me they were going to play soccer. When someone told them there was a possibility I could coach the basketball team, those same kids suddenly all wanted to play basketball. When I told them there was no truth to the rumor, it fueled a disdain for soccer¡ªthey would now either play basketball or nothing at all. I found it funny how some of the boys worshipped me as a basketball player. They even wondered why I wasn¡¯t in the NBA, but they had no idea how really good NBA players were. I always felt if I didn¡¯t show them my skills as a basketball player, they would have no interest in the sport. I didn¡¯t want to ¡°show off,¡± but if they saw me hit shots, dribble between my legs, put the ball around my back, and dunk¡ªthings that looked fun to do¡ªit was something they wanted to at least try. I began to feel that if I didn¡¯t coach the team, I was falsely promoting the game to them. They also believed we would have a good team if I coached them because I was a good player in their eyes¡ªsomething I didn¡¯t plan on when I first started basketball activities at the daycare. I enjoyed playing hoops when I was their age, and I wanted to build off of it. I didn¡¯t want to let them down. I then reconsidered and accepted the position without knowledge of Pastor Farely¡¯s displeasure. When we beat the former head coach¡¯s new team by twenty points in their gym, he refused to shake my hand after the game. After I witnessed him chewing out his new team over a loss in a mere exhibition game, I couldn¡¯t believe he was highly revered and I was frowned upon by Pastor Farely.

    When we started the season undefeated after four games played, the Pastor remained greatly dissatisfied with the athletic director¡¯s decision to allow a non-church member to be the boys¡¯ head basketball coach. When I lobbied Cal to ask Pastor Farely to show more support for the team after we played our home games in front of only five people, my request fell on deaf ears. The former coach¡¯s teams always played in front of a packed gymnasium, and even had cheerleaders, but during the games I coached, there was no such fanfare. Pastor Farely and his band of false prophets could hate me all they wanted, but wanting to see me fail only penalized the kids. Not only did I volunteer to coach the team, I was really busy with school and work at the time¡ªbut in his eyes, I was an intruder. At a time I could use a little faith in something, he only further validated my reasons for being a borderline atheist.

    When we were scheduled to play a league home game against County Day School, I had Pastor Farely wholly on my mind. They were not only in first place, but Lutheran Christ had never beaten County Day before in the school¡¯s twenty-year history. In forty games against them, they were a perfect 40-0. Before we played them, we sat tied with County Day for first place¡ªthey had won their first four games too. I also learned that all their wins were of the merciless blowout kind and came at a frenzied unsportsmanlike pace. The coach of County Day usually kept his starters in the game even when they were up by thirty points. I never saw the logic behind it, other than to humiliate the other coach and his team. Losing was bad enough, but to be humiliated while losing was maddening. I always respected the losing side and played the kids that never got a chance to play¡ªthere was no need to rub it in if we were up big. One thing was certain though when County Day visited our gym¡ªtheir coach planned to humiliate us too. In order for us to avoid the same fate as those other teams, I had to light a fire under these kids. Our four prior games were all competitive and most of the kids grew as basketball players. The coach of County Day was out to destroy that confidence and progress though, and I refused to let that happen. He also planned to make a joke of me¡ªI was certain he knew Pastor Farely, and this game presented a favor to him. After our last practice before the game against County Day, I brought the team in for one last huddle.

    ¡°I just wanted to let you guys know that I received a phone call earlier from the head coach of County Day.¡± I said as they goofed off with each other in the huddle while some even sat down and groaned.

    Confusion suddenly broke upon their faces¡ªthey all wondered where I was going with this until one of them broke the silence.

    ¡°Why did he call you, Coach?¡± He asked for the group.

    ¡°He wanted to know if there were any pizza places near our school.¡±

    ¡°Why would he ask that?¡± Inquired one of my other players.

    ¡°I was confused by it too guys¡­so after I told him Big Ed¡¯s Pizzeria was the closest one, I asked him why he wanted to know¡ªdo you know what he told me?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± A few of the kids said in unison while others shook their heads.

    ¡°He said ¡®because that¡¯s where we plan to go after we beat you tomorrow.¡±

    Those who sat suddenly stood up and became vocal. They shook their heads in disbelief and with irritation. One of the boys bounced the basketball so hard on the gym hardwood floor that it nearly hit the ceiling. Once I had their focus, I then inspired a response from them.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s it gonna be tomorrow? Are you gonna let them have a pizza party?¡±

    ¡°No way, County Day!¡± Roared a team member as they then broke out into a chant of ¡®No way, County Day¡¯.

    When their focus morphed to tight rope walkers from circus clowns, I left the gym feeling warm and fuzzy inside. I could only hope they laced up their Air Jordans instead of their clown shoes when the next day arrived. When it did, they came to the gym firing on all cylinders. Unlike our prior four games, there were no jokes exchanged with one another or laughter in the layup line¡ªthey were focused more than ever. Just before the jump ball, when I reminded them about the pizza party in the huddle, they all nodded in unison and understanding. From the opening tip, their fire scorched the court as we jumped out to a 12-2 lead. It even forced the coach to call a timeout just three minutes into the game. As my starters were running back to our bench, one of them shouted at the opposing players that there would be no pizza party today. After I scolded my team not to taunt them, I nearly broke into laughter when I saw the look of mass confusion on the faces of the County Day players. I was just so proud they responded to the challenge in front of them against a superior team. County Day boasted of two potential NBA players and I had players who never played organized basketball before. After the time-out, we then took a 22-16 lead into halftime, but the best part wasn¡¯t that we were winning the game¡ªit was the look on the coach¡¯s face. Gone was the smile that took pleasure in humiliating inferior teams, replaced with an air of disturbance and discontent. As he yelled at his players, I even caught him peering over at our inspired team and its head coach. In the middle of his tirade, another unlikely event, unknown to me, began to take shape. Word got around to Pastor Farely that we were leading County Day and there was a real chance we could beat them for the first time ever. At the start of the fourth period, a once nearly empty gymnasium suddenly became standing room only¡ªhe let the entire school out of class early. My players were so excited about our sudden home court advantage, I had to call a timeout to make sure they stayed focused on winning the game. Although they now had an audience, I wanted to make sure they didn¡¯t turn into Kobe Bryant trying to impress a girl they liked. I couldn¡¯t blame them one bit if they did, I was just as excited too¡ªwe finally had our school behind us. As I gazed upon the crowd after our time out ended, in my mind we had already won.

    At the beginning of the fourth quarter, County Day took their first lead of the game, and with only four minutes left to play, we fell behind by ten points, 42-32. The coach had spotted a weakness and made the adjustment to exploit it. Now they smelled blood in the water and looked to devour us. I then called a timeout and singled out my point guard and best player, Nate Fell. He was the shortest player on the court but the quickest and was killing them all game¡ªhe scored twenty of our thirty-two points. When County Day started to deny him the ball with double teams though, he became less aggressive on offense and just stood around. This compact dark-brown-haired, green-eyed dynamo was simply our best player and he needed to be more active¡ªor we¡¯d be County Day¡¯s next blow out victim.

    ¡°Nate, you know they¡¯re looking to embarrass us, right?¡± I reminded him in front of his teammates after County Day called a time-out to set up a play. ¡°They wanna push this to thirty if they can¡ªthat¡¯s why they called the time-out.¡±

    ¡°I know, coach.¡± He nodded as he tried to catch his breath with his hair nearly in his eyes from the sweat. ¡°But they¡¯re not letting me touch the ball.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t stand around hoping for the ball, Nate.¡± I scolded. ¡°If they¡¯re gonna deny you the ball and take away your offense, you need to step it up on the defensive end. Their point guard doesn¡¯t have a left hand, so you need to guard his right hand and force him to use his left. If you do, you¡¯re gonna get your hands on the ball. When you get the steal, you need to attack the basket, alright? If you¡¯re aggressive, they¡¯ll foul you¡­that way, we can stop the clock¡ªtime isn¡¯t on our side right now.¡±

    ¡°Got it, Coach.¡± Nate nodded; his eyes locked on mine.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t be aggressive on offense¡ªyou MUST be aggressive on defense. If you do that, I promise you it¡¯ll feed your offense.¡± I told him as the buzzer sounded to indicate our time out expired. ¡°Guard his strong hand. Force him to his weak hand. Steal the ball.¡±

    He shook his head in understanding as he toweled his head dry and walked back onto the court.

    ¡°Attack the basket! Don¡¯t let them smell the tomato sauce!¡± I reminded the team as they walked out back onto the court.

    Nate pumped his fist in acknowledgment and barked at his teammates as they got into their defensive positions. Being told what to do and actually executing my vision were two entirely different things, but Nate went on to do exactly that and more. He stole the ball and then hit a wide open three-pointer. On the ensuing inbounds play, he stole the ball again, drove to the basket, scored, and was fouled on the play. After he hit the free-throw and completed the three-point play, he stole the ball again from the dribbler and found a wide-open teammate who connected for two more points. With one-minute left in the game we now trailed 42-40, but we fouled a County Day player on the next play. After their player made one of two free throws, we trailed by three points with less than a minute remaining. Without blinking an eye, Nate came right down and hit a BIG three-pointer that tied the score at 43 all. His crucial shot rocked the entire gym¡ªthe crowd exploded with excitement. It even brought Pastor Farely out of his seat as he ran down the baseline slapping the hands of kids in the stands. Nate¡¯s shot forced County Day to call a time out to draw up a play for a chance to win the game. On the ensuing play after the time-out, with just seven seconds left to play, we again fouled a County Day player. After they hit one of their two free throws, and now down by just one point, I called a timeout to draw up a play to win the game. I thought they would expect Nate to take the final shot, so I set up the play for a player they didn¡¯t expect to take the shot. County Day was ready for it though, but Nate alertly recognized the player wasn¡¯t open, and instead took the ball to the basket. Although he missed the shot, he was fouled with no time left on the clock. As he came to the free throw line with a chance to not only tie, but win the game, the crowd roared¡ªthe gym was electric. After he took the ball from the referee and looked to find his rhythm before he took the free throw, the coach of County Day called a timeout to freeze and throw him off. As the crowd booed County Day¡¯s strategic move, I tried to downplay the significance of the moment.

    ¡°How you feelin¡¯?¡± I asked Nate as I put my hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Nervous.¡± He confessed as sweat fell down the side of his face.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re human after all, huh?¡± I joked.

    He nodded and smiled as his teammates laughed and surrounded him with words of encouragement.

    ¡°I used to get nervous when I played too, but you know what I did? I pretended I was just shooting around out on the playground all by myself. I worried about my form more than my shot. I knew if I bend my knees and felt the ball off my fingertips with my follow through, that nine out of ten times that ball was going in. I even pictured the ball going through the net before I took a shot.¡± I told him as the buzzer sounded to end our time-out. ¡°Don¡¯t think about the shot, just concentrate on your form. If your form is good, that ball will always have a chance of going in. Don¡¯t put more pressure on yourself than there needs to be. At the end of the day, it¡¯s just a game, Nate. Some people just get paid to play it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah Coach¡­but the pizza party though.¡± He replied as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­it¡¯s still only a game.¡± I said as I patted him on the back before he walked back onto the court.

    The entire gym stood in silent anticipation of Nate hitting both free throws to put an end to County Day¡¯s dominating run over the school for the last twenty years, their own perfect season, and their hopes for a pizza party that only existed in my mind. When the ref handed him the ball, I looked over at the coach of County Day who also stood in silence with his arms folded across his chest. He then turned his back to Nate and began to pace the sideline¡ªunable to watch himself.

    Nate took a few dribbles to find his rhythm, bent his knees and put the ball up high¡ªhis form was immaculate. That bright orange Spalding basketball then bounced on the rim twice before it landed back onto the floor without going through the net. Although the gymnasium groaned, the missed free throw was not the end of the world¡ªwe could send the game to overtime if he made the second free throw.

    When Nate took his second shot, his form looked even better and he held his follow through to perfection. The ball then bounced softly on the rim before it fell off without going in the net for a second time. The game was over¡ªCounty Day had beaten Lutheran Christ School yet again and took over first place.

    When the ball failed to bounce our way, the disappointment I felt wasn¡¯t because we lost the game, but for Nate when I saw his shoulders slump and his head drop. His teammates tried to cheer him up, but he had his head in his hands, unable to take in the scene that unfolded around him. While the County Day players jumped around jubilantly and our fans piled out of the gymnasium, he refused to leave the free throw line. His teammates respectfully then began to walk back to the bench with their heads and eyes on the floor. As they walked away from Nate, I knew why he was terrified to leave the free throw line¡ªhe didn¡¯t want anyone to see his tears. On my way over to him, I told my players to hold their heads high and to form a line to shake hands with the County Day players. When I arrived at the free throw stripe, he was sobbing heavily but quietly with his head in his hands. I draped my arm over his shoulder and slowly walked him back to the bench where the rest of the team waited along with Pastor Farely. When I saw that the Pastor took an active role in the sportsmanship line with County Day, I stopped to talk with him before we reached the bench. There were still people in the stands who were concerned about Nate¡ªnot knowing if they should cheer or leave. Even though he missed the free throws, he deserved his moment in front of his witnesses. Before I spoke, I recalled all the sports trophies I had won over the years that were now in a box somewhere in the garage at my parents¡¯ house¡ªinsignificant and forgotten. Nate then swiped at his eyes as he continued to sob, unable to speak, still shaken up by what transpired. I didn¡¯t know the right words to say that could make sense of the trauma he just experienced¡ªI just knew I couldn¡¯t remain silent.

    ¡°Hey, Nate¡­we lose as a team and we win as a team. You did not in any way, in any way, lose this game for us. We wouldn¡¯t have even been in a position to have a chance to win this game without you¡ªwe would¡¯ve lost by fifty.¡± I said as he slowly peered up at me. ¡°I know this sounds crazy right now, but one day you¡¯ll forget all about this game. Your form was perfect on both those free throws and nine times out of ten those go through the net, but that¡¯s life¡­it¡¯s unfair, Nate¡ªsometimes things don¡¯t go the way they should. Like I told you before you went to the line¡ªit¡¯s just a game. Sometimes free throws will fall through the net, and sometimes they won¡¯t, but it¡¯s how we handle things when the free throws bounce off the rim¡ªto make sure we can take those shots again someday. I¡¯m super proud of you. You hit big shots all game long and you gave County Day a run for their money today all by yourself. And that¡¯s a team with a potential NBA player or two over there¡ªthat¡¯s no small feat. Believe me, you taught those kids a lesson today¡ªfrom now on they¡¯ll think twice about underestimating anybody else they play. When you walk out of this gym, you have no reason to hang your head¡ªyou got that?¡±

    He looked at me, wiped his eyes, and nodded as his sobbing halted to a dry heave.

    ¡°Oh, and by the way.¡± I then leaned into his ear. ¡°The County Day coach never called me¡ªI made up the pizza party story. Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°What? Coach? You made that up?¡±

    ¡°Good game, Nate!¡± I shouted out to everyone still in the gymnasium. I then grabbed Nate¡¯s arm, and raised it to the air like a prize fighter, and started to clap as we walked back to the bench together.

    His teammates and the thirty people still inside the gym then began to applaud and cheer him¡ªeven the County Day side. When we arrived at the bench, Pastor Farely patted him on the back and then brought the entire team in to start a group prayer. After the prayer, one in which I chose not to participate in, Pastor Farely approached me, shook my hand, and thanked me for taking on coaching duties at the school. He also promised me there would be a continued crowd presence at our home games from this point on. After we talked briefly, the coach of County Day then stood before me.

    ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t say this because I¡¯ve known Phil for years, but you¡¯re the best coach this school has ever had. You did an excellent job today and made all the right calls¡ªvery impressive.¡± He said as we shook hands. ¡°I look forward to playing against your teams for many years to come.¡±

    As I thanked him for the kind words, I also felt obligated to tell him about the fabricated pizza party, but decided not to give him the secret to my coaching success. After we finished the season in third place, the highest the school¡¯s basketball team ever finished, I was asked to coach the next season as well¡ªby Pastor Farely. Even though I took on the extra responsibility of running the KinderCare program and dealt with the stress of a full-time university class schedule, I couldn¡¯t tell him no. Although we finished second to County Day the following year, we finally beat them, and with much less drama at the end of the game.

 CHAPTER 13 ~ KARYN

    I met Karyn Gold when I was twenty-nine years young in August of 2000 during my second year working for Pedichairs, my first job out of college. She was just twenty-one years old when she was hired to be the company¡¯s receptionist. Her thin, healthy frame, olive skin, dark brown almond-shaped eyes, and long, straight brown hair gave her instant popularity with the male employees at the company. Although fully aware of her allure, I didn¡¯t give her much thought. After what happened with Sara, dating anyone I worked with was no longer an option. There was too much at stake professionally for me.

    Each day, Karyn retrieved the faxes and mail we received, sorted them by recipient, and placed them in our personal in-boxes behind her desk. My office was located upstairs, and it was quite a jaunt to the receptionist desk to get my mail. Since the customer service department was also downstairs, I would only check my mailbox when I had face time with the customer service reps. Karyn was usually at lunch when I retrieved mail from my box, but on the rare occasions I ran into her, we always exchanged pleasantries. For the most part, my mail usually contained junk faxes advertising something or other. It seemed like the Company spent more money on the paper for these faxes than we did using it to make actual copies. After two years of receiving enough junk faxes to fill an entire trash bin, they became super annoying. One of these junk faxes in particular put me over the edge¡ªan invitation to take part in a round table discussion with the Ambassador of Bangladesh to the United States. It just boggled my mind that someone would send random faxes to anyone without any sense of a target audience¡ªdesperate for someone to show an interest in their event. It only begged the question¡ªwhat would happen if the person unwillingly sent it to someone who had a beef with Bangladesh? I really burned to know the answer to that question. Since everyone in my department was out to lunch, it presented an opportune time to call the toll-free number to obtain more information about the ambassador¡¯s visit.

    ¡°Hello? May I help you?¡± Answered a very delicate voice from most likely an elderly woman.

    ¡°Good day to you, ma¡¯am! Thank you for taking my call! Why, yes¡­yes you can indeed!¡± I said as excitement boomed forth from my lungs. ¡°It¡¯s with pleasant surprise that our great Ambassador from Bangladesh is coming to visit us this upcoming Tuesday! Is this true? I just received a fax informing me of this glorious event!¡±

    ¡°Why it is certainly true!¡± She confirmed as she mimicked my excitement.

    ¡°Splendid! May I ask what time he¡¯ll be arriving?¡± I requested in a snobbish tone that suggested I had a cup of tea in my other hand. ¡°It says the discussion commences at nine-thirty in the morning, but I am left to wonder if this actually means nine-thirty sharp? Could you please tell me what time he¡¯ll be actually arriving at the event?¡±

    ¡°Actually, he is scheduled to arrive at approximately nine-ten that morning. Will that work for you?¡±

    ¡°Are you pulling my leg?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not, Sir. The round table discussion is slated to start at exactly nine-thirty.¡±

    ¡°I cannot believe this! This fits right into my schedule!¡± I exclaimed triumphantly. ¡°May I ask how he¡¯ll be arriving? Will he be arriving by bus to the event, possibly?¡±

    ¡°No¡­he usually travels by limousine.¡± She politely replied.

    ¡°How splendid is that! A limo! May I ask would I be able to see him in clear view if I showed up at let¡¯s say¡­nine-ten in the morning?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely! Without a doubt!¡±

    ¡°Important question for you.¡± I stated in a sudden change of tone.

    ¡°Yes, Sir?¡±

    ¡°Does he usually travel with anyone like a¡­well you know¡­like, let¡¯s say, a bodyguard?¡±

    ¡°No¡­he typically travels alone.¡±

    ¡°How great is that?¡± I joyously replied. ¡°You¡¯re makin¡¯ this so easy for me! By the way, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?¡±

    ¡°This is Darlene McKenzie.¡±

    ¡°Ah! Darlene Mah¡­Kenzie! You¡¯re makin¡¯ my day! Please know I am a huge supporter of our great Ambassador from Bangladesh and his wonderful policies!¡± I relayed without any idea, besides eating and sleeping, what those policies were.

    ¡°Oh! We are so very happy to hear that, Sir! We¡¯re really excited to have you come join us for the round table discussion! I¡¯m certain he will be most pleased to have you in attendance at the event!¡±

    ¡°Who are you talkin¡¯ to?¡± Inquired Karyn who suddenly appeared in my office.

    I waved hello to her as I cupped the receiver, handed her the fax, and then continued.

    ¡°If I may Darlene, I would like to request a seat at the roundest part of the table if you don¡¯t mind. Would I have to pay extra for that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, dear¡­I believe you¡¯re taking the event far too literally, Sir. No one will be seated at a round table per se¡­I¡¯m afraid it doesn¡¯t quite work that way.¡±

    ¡°Darlene.¡± I paused. ¡°Darlene. Mah¡­Kenzie.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You mean to tell me there¡¯s not going to be a round table¡­at the round table discussion?¡±

    ¡°Well, Sir¡­there may be an actual round table there. I couldn¡¯t tell you for certain, but I could find out for you.¡±

    ¡°Darlene.¡± I said again to create suspense only I seemed to need. ¡°Darlene. Mah¡­Kenzie.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Are you tryin¡¯ to pull a fast one? Cause this all sounds crazy to me!¡± I said as I paused to hold back my laughter. ¡°You sent me a fax tellin¡¯ me there¡¯s gonna be a round table discussion¡­but without a round table? I mean what¡¯s really goin¡¯ on here? Is this some sort of scam? Does the Ambassador know about this? Has he been informed of this development? I mean¡­this might ruin my plans entirely.¡±

    ¡°Well, Sir¡­I think you¡¯re misunderstanding the nature of our event.¡±

    ¡°Ugh¡­maybe there¡¯s a way around the round table. I guess I could live without there being a round table at the round table discussion. I just hope it isn¡¯t an issue with the Ambassador and he doesn¡¯t decide to cancel. I¡¯ve waited so long to see him¡ªI¡¯d be devastated if that happened.¡± I elaborated with a greater prank purpose in mind. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, can you please allow me to recap what I¡¯ve learned?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, Sir.¡±

    ¡°The Ambassador will be arriving alone, by limousine, at nine-ten on Tuesday morning regardless of there not being a round table at the round table discussion. Is that correct?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct, Sir.¡±

    ¡°I guess this is still doable.¡± I sighed. ¡°Would it then be safe to say when he arrives that I¡¯ll have a clear shot at him? I mean of him? I¡¯d hate to miss him.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­you would.¡± She replied with a hint of hesitance.

    ¡°Wonderful! I will see him at the event then. Thank you so much! You¡¯ve provided me with a treasure trove of information!¡±

    ¡°Very well! We look forward to having you!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I had just one more question,¡± I said, unsatisfied Darlene had understood the nature of my ridiculous call.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°By any chance, would you happen to know, if he¡¯ll be wearing a bulletproof vest?¡± I asked¡ªif Darlene didn¡¯t get the picture by now, she never would.

    ¡°Why are you asking these questions?¡± She broke in a distressed tone.

    When the tone of her voice went from extreme excitement to grave concern, I could no longer hide my laughter and quickly hung up the phone. After I hung up, I visualized this obscure ambassador feeling a sudden sense of great importance. I then imagined him running out of his limo when he arrived, flanked by secret service, into an event that only had three people in attendance. If you had to promote this kind of thing via fax, you were basically begging people to give a shit. Since I despised politicians anyway, I felt good about my stupid prank, hoping it gave them something to consider before they sent junk mail to just anyone. As these thoughts went through my mind, at the end of my rectangular desk stood my audience of one with her hands on her hips.

    ¡°What was that all about?¡± Karyn asked.

    ¡°Hey! You know I¡¯m an accountant, right?¡± I grinned. ¡°I need some excitement in my life!¡±

    ¡°Is this what you do with all the faxes I put in your in-box?¡±

    ¡°I wish! Just look at it this way¡ªthat¡¯s one less fax you¡¯ll have to worry about now. You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­until the next junk one comes through.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t despair!¡± I teased. ¡°I might have a few more prank calls left in me.¡±

    I could hear Karyn giggling even after she exited my prank phone call laboratory. I then went right back to the grind, even forgetting all about the call I made. The last prank call I conjured up happened in my teens¡ªwhen I pretended to be a radio host. I usually examined the phone book like a thesaurus, in search of the perfect victim for my prank radio station call. Trivial Pursuit cards were then used for my questions to the unsuspecting soul who dared to believe I was Crazy Davey from KRAP radio. Even after I pronounced my station as ¡®Crap¡¯ radio, they still bought in. When the first guy answered the question correctly and thought he won a trip to Hawaii, I then upped the ante¡ªI offered fifty thousand dollars in exchange for the Hawaii trip if he answered the next question correctly. The human-animal was indeed a greedy one as he jumped all over the chance to win fifty-grand. In the end, I informed him that his answer was incorrect, but to not despair¡ªhe would not be walking away empty-handed. When I relayed he would be receiving a complimentary frisbee, he hung up the phone. I guess going from a trip to Hawaii to fifty-grand to a frisbee was too much for him to handle. My prank calls weren¡¯t always of the radio station variety. I¡¯ve called a locksmith asking if they could make me a key¡­for my neighbor¡¯s house. I once called a trophy shop to see if they could make one for a girl I was dating that read ¡°My 500<sup>th</sup> Chick¡±. I even called a poor soul with the last name of Chinchilla and constantly repeated his own name to him for no good reason for a solid five minutes before he finally hung up on me. Although I¡¯ve done my fair share of prank calls over the years without incident, karma always had a way of coming back around to set me straight. The morning after my prank call to the Ambassador, Karyn, who never left the receptionist area, made another surprise appearance.

    ¡°Landyn, you¡¯re not going to believe this.¡± She said tersely with furrowed eyebrows.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s an FBI agent in Mr. Sherman¡¯s office. I think it¡¯s related to the phone call you made yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, right.¡± I snickered.

    ¡°I¡¯m totally serious. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I won¡¯t say anything.¡± Karyn said, then vanished from my view as quickly as she appeared.

    This sounds too ridiculous to be real, I thought. For all I knew, Karyn was pranking me. Twenty minutes later, my manager, Gina Arthur then entered my office. Her presence was ordinary, but the timing of her visit suggested a group effort to prank the prank caller. Gina was a short, robust, feisty, light red-haired, blue-eyed spitfire, who just joined the fifty club. Her brutal honesty could always be counted on, and I trusted her more than anyone at the company. She went to the mattresses for her employees daily, but if this FBI story turned out to be true, I deserved to be suffocated with a pillow instead. When she waltzed in with a suspicious smile, I didn¡¯t know what to believe.

    ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡± I asked to stir the pot.

    ¡°Someone from the FBI just left Sherman¡¯s office.¡± She disclosed. ¡°They said they traced a call from someone at our company threatening the life of the ambassador from Singapore or Bangkok¡­or some other country from God knows where.¡±

    ¡°What? You gotta be kidding. That¡¯s just plain crazy.¡± I replied. ¡°Bangkok is a city, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Hell if I know, but it sure sounds crazy doesn¡¯t it, Pinky.¡± She said as she planted herself in the chair next mine on the right side of my desk.

    When she called me ¡°Pinky¡±, it could only mean one thing¡ªshe thought I was the prank caller. My namesake was earned though when I took a comedy sketch too far depicting the company¡¯s Controller and Gina¡¯s direct boss, Christopher Painter. He was a gray-haired, tall, lanky, spectacled, dry-humored, and abhorrently serious man who constantly barked orders unseen from his office. I only had an office because I made collection calls and needed privacy for them, but the rest of the accounting team resided just outside Painter¡¯s office. One day when he headed out for the bank to make a deposit, I ventured into his office and began to mimic his harsh tone, yapping random ridiculous orders to entertain Gina and the staff accountants. When I saw that he left behind his glasses, I didn¡¯t hesitate to put them on. I then called for the team to come inside so I could give a more vivid portrayal of him, even performing his entire repertoire of bossy mannerisms, much to their delight. After my five-minute act concluded, I took his glasses off, carefully placed them where I found them, then retreated back to my office. The following day, I called in sick due to a mysterious case of pink eye, a condition that oddly but fittingly enough, Mr. Painter also had. I took one important life lesson with me that day after becoming Pinky¡ªhonesty was the only choice I ever had.

    ¡°I apologize, Gina¡­I couldn¡¯t help it. It was a fax I received promoting a round table discussion with the Ambassador to Bangladesh. I thought it was junk, so I called the number to have some fun with it. You know how much I hate those things.¡±

    ¡°Well, they have no idea who made the call¡ªwe have too many phone lines.¡± She laughed. ¡°Can you please stop yourself next time? Chris is gonna hold me responsible!¡±

    ¡°I would never allow you to take the fall for me. I promise my prank calling days are over. If I knew you could get in trouble or thought the FBI would get involved, I would¡¯ve never thought of making the call. You know how much my career means to me.¡± I responded with both embarrassment and regret. ¡°I¡¯ve been going to school at night for nearly two years now¡ªit would all be a waste of time over something so foolish.¡±

    ¡°I know and appreciate all you do for the department¡ªeven the entertainment. We all need it sometimes.¡± She giggled as she stood up. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡­the coast is clear. Now get back to work, Ambassador.¡±

    The mundane nature of accounting brought out an eccentric side of me. In the eyes of the general populace, we were boring math nerds who carried calculators and pencils in our pocket protectors. Although I was an outside-the-box thinker and didn¡¯t fit the stereotype, I also didn¡¯t want to lose being an accountant. After working forty hours a week and going to night school four times a week, I needed an outlet at times¡ªI just took this escape too far. If I made that call after 9-11, the FBI would¡¯ve given me a one-way plane ride to Guantanamo Bay. From that point on, I never made another prank call. In fact, it was the last one I ever made.

    A month after my junk fax shenanigans, the company fired one of its staff accountants. Since that person handled a majority of the filing, document piles grew, as did a need for filing help. To remedy the problem, they assigned Karyn to our department in the afternoons. The office of Chief Operations Officer, Sebastian Sherman, who was the son of the C.E.O. Ralph Sherman, was also located in the accounting department. A narrow walkway was the only thing that separated his office from the one I shared with one other staff accountant, Sam Shebani. While I handled Accounts Receivable and Collections, Sam was responsible for entering orders¡ªthe position I previously held when I first started. He was a short balding Iranian man, with a full dark beard, who was a year younger than I was. Sam was out the day I made my prank call and was upset with me for doing it when he wasn¡¯t around. It was safe to say we both longed for some excitement to get us through the day.

    ¡°You must do another one.¡± He said as he affixed his glasses to his face.

    ¡°Sorry, my friend¡ªmy phony phone call career is over.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear about the cute girl downstairs? The receptionist? I can¡¯t think of her name.¡±

    ¡°Karyn?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Karyn! She¡¯s going to be working with us in the afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Gina told me the other day, but where are they gonna put her? There¡¯s really no place for her to sit.¡±

    ¡°Gina said she¡¯ll be sitting at the table right outside our office window.¡±

    ¡°She is? Why would she put her there?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯ll tell you what¡ªI plan on bein¡¯ really busy.¡±

    ¡°Why? Is that the real reason why she¡¯s working up here now? Are they anticipating more orders coming upstairs from customer service?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m gonna be really busy checkin¡¯ her out!¡± He smiled as he brought out a comb to groom what little hair was left on his head.

    ¡°Good luck with that, Fonzie!¡± I laughed.

    I had worked at Pedichairs for two years before Karyn began working in my department. On her first day, she tapped on our office window and waved excitedly to both Sam and me, and it wasn¡¯t hard to remember the broad smiles we all wore waving to each other that day. At that moment, I also felt sorry for her¡ªit must¡¯ve been pretty boring downstairs if she thought an accounting department would be more fun. During her first two weeks upstairs with us, I learned more about the company than I had in my entire two years working for them. If there were any office politics or drama, rest assured Karyn kept us up to date on all the developments. Her value was much more than reporting company news, however, when one day she came to the rescue. I needed to make labels for my file folders, and since she was well versed with the word processing program, she offered to help me out.

    ¡°You first have to select the label type. See, right here? Avery¡­five, one, six, zero.¡± She explained. ¡°Then you type in what you want on your labels¡ªI can walk you through it.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, I can figure it out¡­ You¡¯re busy, I¡¯m sure.¡± I replied, feeling guilty that she even had to show me. ¡°I just needed to be steered in the right direction since I¡¯m only familiar with Excel spreadsheets and the ACCPAC accounting software. Thanks, Karyn.¡±

    ¡°Are you doing anything this weekend? Do you have any plans?¡± She asked¡ªa question that caught me off guard.

    ¡°Oh, no. Not this weekend. I have a test on Monday night I have to study for. How about you?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­no. I don¡¯t. I never get out anymore on the weekends.¡± She replied with a restrained sadness.

    ¡°What? Why not? You¡¯re only twenty-one!¡±

    ¡°I have a son.¡± She said as her almond-shaped brown eyes met mine.

    ¡°You do? Am I the only one here who didn¡¯t know that?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t told anyone. I didn¡¯t want people to judge me.¡±

    ¡°You act as if the people here are gossipy or something.¡± I smirked. ¡°I totally get that. Your secret¡¯s safe with me. May I ask how old he is?¡±

    ¡°Fourteen months.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s just a little guy.¡±

    ¡°My sweet little man.¡± She beamed. ¡°I don¡¯t get out much¡ªI stay home all the time with him.¡±

    ¡°Are you married?¡±

    ¡°Not married¡­I live with his father, though.¡± She clarified. ¡°But he¡¯s not really there for the baby and me¡­ He drinks a lot. I don¡¯t like him being around our son when he does.¡±

    ¡°I suppose he must be pretty young then.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s younger than me¡­by a year.¡±

    ¡°Is he working?¡±

    ¡°He is, but he spends all his money on alcohol and weed instead of taking care of the things he needs to take care of.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry to hear that,¡± I responded then looked to the ground, not knowing what to say. I didn¡¯t want to disrespect the father of her child.

    ¡°It is what it is.¡± She sighed. ¡°Here, Landyn¡­this is the label you need.¡±

    With my hand on the mouse, Karyn placed her soft, warm hand upon mine, and slowly guided it to the label I needed to select. When she deftly detached her hand, she smiled fondly. Pretending to ignore the gesture, I returned her smile with one and thanked her. When she left the scene, returned to her seat that directly faced my office window and smiled again, I could only wonder what was left unspoken. She didn¡¯t knock my hand away from the mouse, and she didn¡¯t ask me if she could show me¡ªshe wanted me to feel something instead. Like unwarranted criticism, I had to ignore it and purge any thoughts it entertained from my consciousness.

    Each Friday that followed, Karyn would ask me what my weekend plans were. I would then unveil my plans to study over the weekend, and in turn, she would reveal her plans to stay home, wishing she had somewhere to go. Although I tried to put it out of my mind, my internal antennae picked up one peculiarity surrounding our daily conversations¡ªI appeared to be the only one she shared her life with. It wasn¡¯t until one Monday afternoon after I was told Karyn wasn¡¯t coming into work, would I learn why she chose to confide in me.

    ¡°Hiya, Landyn.¡± She softly spoke when she unexpectedly entered my office while Sammy was out to lunch.

    ¡°Hey, what are you doin¡¯ here?¡± I laughed. ¡°I thought you were out today?¡±

    ¡°I only needed the morning off.¡± She told me as she strangely turned her face away from mine.

    ¡°Oh! Gina told us you weren¡¯t coming in at all. How was your week¡­end?¡± I said then stammered when I noticed why she moved her face away from me.

    I didn¡¯t know what to say when I saw the bruising and bright redness on the left side of her face. I tried to recover my words and pretend I didn¡¯t notice¡ªshe had purposefully combed her hair over to the side of her face to hide it. From the first day I met Karyn, she was nothing but kind and made a sincere effort to be my friend. I swore to never develop feelings for someone I worked with ever again, but this moment made it impossible for my empathetic nature to ignore. There was no excuse for her boyfriend to lay his hands on the mother of his son. As I continued to play blind, I also couldn¡¯t talk to her about this¡ªshe probably came into my office to escape any questioning and not to divulge emotional details. After I silenced myself, I then let her dictate the direction of the conversation while my heart imitated the sun behind its obscurity of clouds¡ªpeeking through them for the first time since my failed relationship with Sara.

    ¡°I just stayed home and studied. I was going to.¡± I said to pick up from my initial dialogue with her but she spoke before I could finish.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± She interjected as her eyes fell to the floor. ¡°Now you know why I wish I could get out of the house on the weekends. Please promise you won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Karyn¡­ I had no idea. I promise I¡¯ll never say a word. I understand this is your business and no one else¡¯s¡­but I¡¯m here if you need to talk or if you need anything.¡± I said, then stood up from behind my desk and began to walk over to her. On the way, I quickly glanced outside my office window to see if anyone was nearby. When I saw no one was watching, I brought my hands to her face and gently fixed her hair to better hide the damage.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone will notice,¡± I said after assessing what I rearranged.

    Karyn then leaned into me, buried her head into my shoulder, and sobbed. Without a word, I gently brought her closer and held her until she no longer wanted me to.

    ¡°Are you going to be okay?¡± I asked when she pulled away a half minute later.

    ¡°I think so.¡± She said as she wiped her eyes. ¡°Does it look like I¡¯ve been crying?¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Yes, but hang out with me for a little bit before you go out there,¡± I advised even though no one was around.

    She nodded, then sat down at the chair next to my desk and spilled out everything about her physically abusive boyfriend. How he blamed her for ruining his life by having a baby that not only took his money but also forced him to miss out on his ¡°partying¡± years. There were so many things wrong with his thinking, but all I could do was listen¡ªI just didn¡¯t know what to say. As bad as I felt for Karyn, I felt just as bad for her son¡ªhe was truly unwanted by his father. Although her son¡¯s situation was eerily similar to my own, at least my father had bigger dreams at stake than losing his partying years. My father never lashed out at my mother physically and loved her, but I couldn¡¯t say the same for Karyn¡ªher boyfriend clearly loved himself more than anyone. I also couldn¡¯t help but wonder why these were the type of men that the Karyns of the world were attracted to¡ªa narcissist. Her boyfriend never once considered the physical and mental toll having a child took on her. He may have lost his partying years, but she would never be the same again. The more I listened, the more her pain revealed how much she lacked the most essential thing for her to have, something we all needed, the very thing I secretly searched for¡­the need to feel truly loved. As I replayed the time she laid her hand upon mine, I knew I had the ability to save her¡ªshe seemed to even choose me to. All I could do though was listen while my heart forced me to reconsider what my mind reminded me of¡ªa job and a certain peace of mind I couldn¡¯t afford to lose.

    A few days later, I noticed that the Chief Operating Officer brought in lunch for Karyn. Pedichairs was a family-owned business who took really good care of their employees. It was the one thing I loved about working for them¡ªthey made an effort to keep their employees happy. In such a litigious business environment, it was both a revolutionary idea and common sense. Why wouldn¡¯t they minimize employee dissatisfaction and subsequently, any unnecessary litigation or liability costs? Sebastian was especially personable with every employee, from top to bottom and from staff to line, he connected with each of us¡ªbringing lunch for Karyn wasn¡¯t unusual. When a couple of employees noticed the bruising on her face that day, she told them she tripped on her boyfriend¡¯s skateboard and hit her head on the sidewalk. As her bruise and swelling subsided, she continued to confide in me about her failing relationship with the father of her son. How he brought strangers inside their apartment and then got high and drunk with them in the company of their child. He only became more physically abusive when she disagreed with the choices he made around their son and ran out of excuses for his behavior.

    ¡°It¡¯s always been that way with men in my life¡­ My father was the same way,¡± she attempted to rationalize.

    ¡°It should never be that way though, Karyn.¡± I encouraged. ¡°The birth of your son gives you a chance to reverse the abusive history of men in your family. Do you want to raise a son who thinks it¡¯s okay to hit a woman? What if you have a daughter? Would you want her to go through this with the men in her life? You have a real chance now to change the pattern of violence; otherwise, history will just keep repeating itself.¡±

    As badly as I wanted to save her from the situation, I resisted the temptation to get closer to her¡ªI had no right to get involved in such a sensitive matter. I could only listen and offer very light advice, if any. This wasn¡¯t Frugals or the daycare¡ªthis was a career job. I had too much at stake to get involved romantically and have it blow up in my face. I didn¡¯t fear Karyn¡¯s boyfriend¡ªI knew the guy was a punk and I even liked her enough to face him. There was one huge detail I couldn¡¯t ignore though¡ªhe was the father of her child, and that was bigger than I was.

    Just when I thought things couldn¡¯t get worse for Karyn, she had yet another physical altercation with her boyfriend the following weekend. It then forced her to take action to end the vicious cycle of her past¡ªshe filed a police report and had him arrested for domestic violence. When he returned home after his release, Karyn took it a step further and with police assistance, she kicked him out of the apartment he paid for.

    ¡°He only became more violent.¡± She explained. ¡°He won¡¯t stop partying at the house. When our son couldn¡¯t stop coughing because of all the smoke from the pot and got sick¡­I had to do it.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t feel guilty, Karyn. How else is he gonna learn to be more responsible? You¡¯re giving him a chance to be in his son¡¯s life by forcing him to get his life together¡ªby becoming a real parent.¡± I said. ¡°I know you hate to do it because he¡¯s the father of your son, but it¡¯s something you have to do¡ªhe forced your hand. The well-being of you and your son depends on it; his well-being, too.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but I broke up with him.¡± She revealed. ¡°If being a father isn¡¯t enough to change him, I doubt he¡¯ll ever change.¡±

    The OJ Simpson murder trial took place five years earlier, so Karyn¡¯s situation had potential consequences if she didn¡¯t act. No matter how much my mother would upset my father when they argued, he never laid a finger on her. If the disagreements Karyn had were already physical, how would it get any better down the road? Regardless of intimacy, there could be no love without mutual respect.

    ¡°Will you ever get back with him?¡± I sprung upon her.

    ¡°Not a chance.¡± She replied without hesitation.

    Like a plane traveling five hundred miles per hour into the side of a mountain, I could feel and hear her hopes crash as her voice trembled. Her decision only further enraged the father of her son, and the day after she broke up with him, he marched to their apartment, hammered beyond coherence. He pounded on the door defiantly and demanded she let him inside to see a child who wailed in fear. When the cops arrived, and she had him arrested a second time, he then became more cooperative. My heart bled for her¡ªno mother should have to endure this for any reason. Regardless of how much I hurt for her, I continued to keep my opinions to myself. These actions to protect her son damaged the life of his father, and that made it even harder for her. Karyn was hurt beyond what she communicated, and there was an innocent child involved. Although I cared about her, all I could do was listen and be her friend. I didn¡¯t want to offer any advice because I was no authority on her situation. I could only be supportive when she came to me, hoping it would help her out in some way while wishing there was something more I could do. It just felt good to know she now had a real shot at the love she deserved. During this time, one evening after Karyn left for the day, Sammy had his own view on my role as her confidant.

    ¡°Alright, I have to come out and say it.¡± He blurted.

    ¡°Say what?¡± I asked, confused.

    ¡°She likes you, Land.¡± He smiled widely. ¡°There it is.¡±

    ¡°Who, Karyn? I don¡¯t think so. We¡¯re just friends¡­ That¡¯s all we are.¡±

    ¡°You may be friends, but I saw her checking out her friend yesterday.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re crazy.¡± I dismissed.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen her just gazing at you through the window before.¡± He said. ¡°I swear she never takes her eyes off you sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Sammy, come on, man. If that were true, I would¡¯ve definitely noticed it.¡± I rejected again. ¡°How are you able to pick up on that, but I can¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Because I know women,¡± he said, ¡°and you¡¯re clueless.¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Do you like her?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­yeah. Who wouldn¡¯t?¡± I confessed. ¡°I like her, but I know the ending to this story already. I¡¯ve dated someone I¡¯ve worked with before, and I can¡¯t go down that road again. I¡¯m too passionate, too attached and then things¡­things just fall apart. I have a career job here now, and I can¡¯t risk that happening again.¡±

    ¡°Pedichairs is a career job?¡± He laughed incredulously. ¡°Landyn, you¡¯re the department¡¯s most knowledgeable employee yet you¡¯ve gotten bypassed for raises. They even screwed you over again this year and why? Because you didn¡¯t have an accounting degree even though they hired you to work in their accounting department with a different degree? If you believe this is a career job, then you¡¯re never going to reach your potential! If you like her, then I say roll with it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s be fair here¡­I don¡¯t know all the things I should know about accounting. They graciously hired me with a finance degree to give me an accounting position. I can analyze financials and make credit decisions, but that¡¯s pretty much it. I don¡¯t really have any confidence in debits and credits, and that¡¯s basic accounting. I think I¡¯m a year away from being an actual accountant.¡±

    ¡°Well account for this¡­two fourteen.¡± He said.

    ¡°Two fourteen? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Hello?¡± He threw his hands in the air. ¡°Valentine¡¯s Day?¡±

    ¡°Listen.¡± He leaned in towards me, then lowered his voice. ¡°On Valentine¡¯s Day, have flowers delivered to Karyn here at work.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s lunacy!¡± I shouted.

    ¡°Oh, you mean like the lunacy of taking a job as an accountant, working your ass off as an accountant, and not being paid like an accountant? What¡¯s crazier than that?¡±

    ¡°You may already know the lunacy of my mind, but I don¡¯t want anyone to know the lunacy of my heart.¡± I replied while I rubbed my eyes and slowly shook my head, suddenly depressed about my life.

    ¡°Flowers¡­send her flowers.¡± He reiterated. ¡°Trust me on this.¡±

    He may have brought my attention to the senselessness of my accounting career, but how could I dare entertain the thought of sending Karyn flowers to work on Valentine¡¯s Day? I never did that for Sara, and we were together for two years! What would the company employees think of me if I did such a thing? Did Sammy have a half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo at his desk I didn¡¯t know about? If he was right though and Karyn did like me after all she¡¯s gone through, how cruel would it be to never acknowledge her feelings? Would she have shared so much of herself with me if she didn¡¯t like me? Since the day I felt her hand on mine, I couldn¡¯t deny I had feelings for her too. When she sobbed in my arms, it only heightened what I already felt. Her heart was too young to be hurt so badly by someone, and she was only more vulnerable to being hurt again. If she liked me and I had the ability to save her, how could I remain blind? Valentine¡¯s Day presented a chance to show Karyn a beautiful truth: she was worthy of a man¡¯s honor and respect. If she truly harbored feelings for me, then only I could bring her to shore.

    While my heart imagined a vessel of flowers, my mind had it anchored to the past with Sara. It may not be a career job in Sammy¡¯s eyes, but Pedichairs had a much more professional setting than Frugals. If things went wrong between Karyn and me, how would I be able to hide the pain in an office setting? I couldn¡¯t just disappear inside a stockroom like I did at Frugals. If she rejected me, would I still be able to work with her? I could leave for another store at Frugals, but at Pedichairs, I¡¯d have to leave for another job. When I couldn¡¯t answer any of these questions with a confident ¡°yes¡± it would be career suicide if I sent her flowers on Valentine¡¯s Day. I had to prove to myself I¡¯ve matured since my time at Frugals; that I followed my mind now instead of my heart¡ªtrue professionals knew how to separate the two.

    After Sammy apprised me of what he saw, it only created a safety net to catch feelings for Karyn. When I started to internally count down each morning before I saw her in the afternoon, I became officially smitten. After Sara, I never thought I could feel the same for another girl again, but with each minute that passed, I only learned I was wrong. Since I was naturally introverted, I was unsurprisingly drawn to extroverted women, and Karyn had the same magnetic personality as Sara did that drew people to her. The feeling of being the center of someone¡¯s attention that people loved to gravitate to was attractive to me. I always fantasized going to parties with a significant other who was outgoing and social; who people wanted to be around. While everyone gravitated to her, though, she was the one who gravitated to me; her favorite person to be around. At Pedichairs, every single guy from the engineering department to the customer service department to the production department, to even the mailman, took a liking to Karyn. After Sammy told me he thought she liked me, I felt like her chosen favorite to be around¡ªthe one she chose to confide in and gravitate to. It made me feel special, and my feelings for her took off from there. I then wondered why I couldn¡¯t date her and rationalized how different it could be than when I dated Sara. If I was ever meant to walk away from Karyn, why did her distress find its way to me? How could I just write off a once-in-a-lifetime girl with a once-in-a-lifetime set of circumstances? By choosing my mind over my heart, I would only be shunning the universe.

    Could it be more likely I would regret never sending her flowers on Valentine¡¯s Day, knowing there was a chance for us? Since the day I saw the bruises on her face, I wanted to help her beyond listening. For a man who believed in love, to listen to his mind more than his heart would be an act of sacrilege. Karyn confided in me for a reason, enough for a third party who witnessed it to believe she liked me. If I overlooked her desire, how could I not be as bad as her boyfriend in her eyes? I had to send her flowers; not for me, but for her¡ªto give her something to believe in again. I genuinely cared about her regardless of my amorous feelings for her, and my belief in love was too great for me to ignore. If there was a chance for us, I had to know. My low self-esteem had something to add to the internal decision-making process though, and I listened¡ªI decided to send her flowers anonymously to save face with the rest of the company employees. After her heartbreak, having a secret admirer on Valentine¡¯s Day had to lift her spirits. If she didn¡¯t feel the same way, at least I could remain incognito¡ªthe last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad. I only wanted to give her some sunshine in the dark and the respect she deserved from a man who claimed to care for her.

    On Valentine¡¯s Day morning, five minutes after the flowers were scheduled to be delivered, Gina strutted into my office.

    ¡°Well, well, well. It looks like Karyn had a bouquet of roses delivered to her this morning.¡± She notified me while Sammy was out on his usual morning bathroom break. ¡°From a Secret Admirer.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I responded with counterfeit surprise. ¡°Well, I guess it is Valentine¡¯s Day¡ªher ex must be tryin¡¯ to win her back. Very romantic of him.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ambassador.¡± She retorted. ¡°I won¡¯t blow your cover.¡±

    When Gina made this correct assumption, I¡¯m sure I turned beet red¡ªI wanted to run and hide under my desk.

    ¡°Why would I do something like that?¡± I replied, horrified. ¡°What would make you even think that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know.¡± She contemplated. ¡°Maybe I should call the FBI and have them investigate, huh?¡±

    ¡°Well, thanks to yours truly, that¡¯s an option for you now.¡±

    ¡°Come on, Pinky. We ALL see how much you like each other.¡±

    Her spirited blue eyes then deadlocked into mine and turned me into a flummoxed contestant in the world¡¯s shortest staring contest.

    ¡°Oh, alright, fine. Damnit¡ªI sent her the roses.¡± I sighed, honest to a fault yet again. ¡°There¡¯s nothing going on between us, Gina. That¡¯s the honest truth. She¡¯s going through a lot, and I just wanted to lift her spirits¡ªI did it out of friendship. I hope that doesn¡¯t upset anyone here.¡±

    ¡°I knew it! You don¡¯t like her as more than a friend?¡± She asked. ¡°She¡¯s a real cutie patootie.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do¡­but more than anything I just wanted her to have a fun Valentine¡¯s Day. Can you please keep it between us until I tell her they came from me? She has no idea.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, Pinky.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I appreciate that.¡±

    ¡°By the way, Painter seems to think you¡¯re running out of work to do.¡± She then notified me.

    ¡°Why does he think that?¡± I replied, perplexed. ¡°I¡¯ve been busier than ever.¡±

    ¡°He says that every time he comes inside your office, your in-box is empty.¡± She stated. ¡°I just wanted to give you a heads up.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Painter thinks based solely on having nothing in my in-box, that I must have nothing to do?¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t consider that it might be empty because I¡¯m getting my work done?¡±

    ¡°Welcome to the mind of a Controller.¡± She said as she put her red disheveled hair up in a pony tail. ¡°Gotta run! I have to get started on payroll. Stay out of trouble!¡±

    ¡°Hooray for you!¡± I teased before she left my office. ¡°Thanks for the heads up.¡±

    After Gina informed me of Mr. Painter¡¯s perceived relationship between my workload and my empty in-box, I forgot all about the flowers. I then drew my own conclusion of what seemed to be a petty criticism¡ªit coincided directly with my perceived relationship with Karyn. Every conversation I ever had with her either came during my lunch hour or during the course of my job. I never stopped working while we carried a conversation, and if I did, it was only for a brief minute or two, and was no different than a conversation anyone else at work had. If Mr. Painter assumed my workload was insufficient based solely on an empty in-box, then he definitely thought I goofed off each time I talked to Karyn. It also seemed to suggest he didn¡¯t place much value on my role with the company. To be fair, I wasn¡¯t very good, but he hired me with a non-accounting degree with minimal training and at a below-market rate salary¡ªwhat else did he expect? When Gina suggested I sent Karyn the roses, this went beyond a simple query¡ªit was a warning that he was watching me. My relationship with Karyn put Gina in a bad spot with Mr. Painter, and he used my empty in-box to test her loyalty to him¡ªsomething I never considered before I had the flowers delivered. I cared about Gina¡¯s job as much as my own and had to find a remedy, especially if more employees felt Karyn and I were spending a questionable amount of time together.

    Minutes after Gina left my office, I walked over to the supplies cabinet and grabbed a ream of copy paper containing five hundred sheets. When I returned, I opened the package and placed the entire ream of paper in my inbox. I then grabbed a couple of filled-out credit applications and a few credit request forms and placed them on top to hide the blank copy paper. After I transformed my desk¡¯s in-box to the paper equivalent of Mount Everest, I heard a sweet voice permeate my ears.

    ¡°Good morning, Landyn.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Good morning, Karyn!¡± I replied nervously, unsure if she sensed I was her secret admirer. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±

    ¡°Great! I got roses this morning! They¡¯re so beautiful!¡± She exclaimed, her face glowing with excitement and wonder.

    ¡°Really? Who sent them to you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing¡ªI don¡¯t know! I just had to tell you.¡± She said. ¡°Well, I better run back downstairs. See you this afternoon!¡±

    ¡°No way! Okay, talk to you in a few hours!¡±

    When I saw the smile and joy in her eyes, I knew I did the right thing regardless of the outcome or what people thought¡ªthe flowers clearly made her day and mine as well. Minutes after she left my office, Mr. Painter, suddenly appeared to drop a document off in my inbox. As he laid it upon my now literal pile of work, it slid off and fell to the floor. His eyes widened when he saw my ambitious mountain of labor¡ªcreated only to stifle his false perceptions.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Mr. Painter, I¡¯ll get it.¡± I said while I tried not to laugh as I reached down to retrieve the fallen piece of paper.

    During the next three days, the entire office was abuzz with curiosity¡ªwho sent Karyn roses on Valentine¡¯s Day? Although my secret remained intact, I wondered why no one considered any outside possibilities. When the speculation carried into its second week, my secret fell under siege when suitors from other departments began to take credit for sending them. Romantic interests from engineering, customer service, production, and even the UPS guy emerged from the shadows to claim they sent her the flowers. My informers of these unforeseen events, Gina and Sam, then asked if I planned to tell Karyn. As the pressure mounted, I could only think of one thing to do¡ªto consult with the person who gave me the heart that created this office bedlam.

    ¡°Well¡­that¡¯s the story. What do you think I should do, Mom?¡± I solicited.

    Just a few months earlier, my mother¡¯s cancer returned after a five-year remission¡ªthe radiation treatment to rid her of the cancer was ineffective. This time, however, the doctors advocated for a mastectomy instead of radiation treatments. A week after her diagnosis, she underwent successful surgery to have her left breast removed, followed by several rounds of chemotherapy. Since they detected it early, her chemotherapy treatments were lighter than normal rounds and she never lost her hair or got sick. When her chemo rounds concluded, the doctors gave her a clean bill of health, saying there was no more evidence of cancer. This second bout with the disease only strengthened her relationship with God, so much so you would¡¯ve never suspected she lost a breast. She even considered it all a blessing, not a curse. Her renewed positive spirit, even though I didn¡¯t see the purpose behind this so called ¡°blessing,¡± took away most of my worries for her.

    ¡°What kind of flowers did you send her?¡± She asked. ¡°I hope they weren¡¯t roses.¡±

    ¡°They weren¡¯t roses. They were a mixture of lilies, tulips, and daisies¡­ Maybe a few dandelions here and there.¡± I lied. ¡°Why would you ask that?¡±

    ¡°Roses signify love¡­ I think that would be coming on a little too strong.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit I care about her a lot, but not enough to send roses.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good. You might have a chance with her then.¡± She expanded.

    ¡°Ugh! Alright¡­I sent her roses.¡± I admitted in annoyance of her assessment.

    ¡°Landy!¡±

    ¡°What else kind of freakin¡¯ flowers would I send a girl on Valentine¡¯s Day?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°How could tulips and daisies from a secret admirer be a better idea?¡±

    ¡°I just worry about you¡­ You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve.¡± She said. ¡°I remember what happened with your last girlfriend.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the same, Sara and I were too young to know what the hell we were doing. Karyn is different¡ªshe¡¯s been through a lot, appreciates good guys, and is mature for her age. She values relationships because she¡¯s been in a bad one. She¡¯s not judgmental and is interested in good men, and not a bad boy¡ªit¡¯s why I felt safe enough to send her roses.¡± I explained. ¡°If she doesn¡¯t want to date¡­I¡¯m fine with that too. We work together, and I remember how things ended up with Sara¡ªI don¡¯t wanna go through that ever again. A friend suggested sending her flowers because he could tell she likes me. I probably would¡¯ve never done it otherwise.¡±

    ¡°What if she wants to go out with you?¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to take her out on the best date of her life!¡± I smiled with hope.

    ¡°See¡­ I knew it!¡± She said as she pointed at me.

    ¡°You knew what?¡±

    ¡°You have your heart set on her!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to you¡­ It¡¯d be nice, but whatever happens, happens.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to allow myself to fall for her. I have too much at stake now.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about her never knowing the flowers came from you? Do you want her to believe they came from someone else?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said as I put my head in my hands.

    ¡°Well, what does your mind say?¡±

    ¡°To play it safe and just keep it a secret.¡±

    ¡°And what does your heart say?¡±

    ¡°Take a chance¡­ I¡¯ll regret it if I don¡¯t.¡± I said as I brought my face from out of my hands.

    ¡°I think you have your answer now.¡± She said as she rose off the edge of the bed in her pink flannel pajamas¡ªat five in the afternoon. ¡°I¡¯ll say a prayer for you.¡±

    I had answered my own question when I sent Karyn roses on Valentine¡¯s Day¡ªmy heart already ruled over my mind. I could¡¯ve sent her any type of flowers, but I chose roses because I needed to know if what Sammy saw was true. I couldn¡¯t escape what the universe created and also controlled. The solution was simple¡ªI just had to follow through with my heart. If there was a chance for Karyn and me, I had to know. I also gave her the same thing I gave Sara¡ªit just wasn¡¯t a handwritten note. The same fears I had with Sara were there too, and they turned out to be unfounded ten years ago. With a career job on the line, though, I had to be certain. Recalling when she put her hand upon mine as she guided my mouse and the tears she couldn¡¯t hide from me when I held her gave me fewer doubts. If I meant nothing to her, she simply wouldn¡¯t have confided in me and to remain incognito would not only be disrespectful to her heart but also inherently criminal. Without uncertainty, I knew I could save her from her abusive ex-boyfriend and be a positive influence for her son. This had to be the reason why the daycare came into my life; why I was chosen to watch over the children of others. If I misinterpreted her feelings, I had no choice but to understand, but I could no longer deny the need to know if they were there without regrets.

    The sun rose and set fourteen times since I sent Karyn roses, and each time she wondered about their clandestine nature, I tried to change the subject. When my secret seemed to border emotional cruelty, I knew I had to come clean¡ªI just didn¡¯t know how to tell her. One day, while most of the employees were outside at the catering truck during lunchtime, I grabbed a blue pen, a large, beige Post-it Note, and went downstairs. As fate, or luck would have it, Karyn was alone and seated behind the reception desk. I then folded the Post-it Note and handed it to her, with a message that simply read: I sent you the roses. As her facial expression relayed confusion, I asked her to please wait a few minutes before she read it. When I returned to my desk, I took a deep breath, relieved she would soon know the truth. I then shook my head when I realized how similar, yet different this was to the time I held the note I had written to Sara for weeks before I finally gave it to her. In my mind, I was way ahead of schedule with Karyn. Even my reasoning behind revealing how I felt was the same as with Sara¡ªin the end, the regret of never knowing became greater than the fear.

    Karyn was usually upstairs in the accounting department at one in the afternoon. When the clock turned two-thirty without a trace of her, I naturally feared the worst¡ªI was certain she read the note by now. With every minute that passed, I felt I made a mistake by coming clean, and that she was disappointed the roses didn¡¯t come from someone else. I imagined her downstairs, asking people for advice on how to handle things with me when she came upstairs. When I looked over at Sammy¡¯s empty chair across from me, I thought of ways to tell him how things worked out.

    ¡°Did you really send me the roses?¡± Karyn announced her sudden presence softly¡ªI didn¡¯t hear her come in.

    I nodded and smiled at her.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I wanted to make it interesting for you,¡± I said as my voice began to tremble. ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t know¡ªyou¡¯ve been through so much. I wanted you to have a fun Valentine¡¯s Day; to get your mind off of things. I know I¡¯ve listened to you, but I wanted to do something for you. I really debated about not telling you at all, but everyone else started to take credit for the flowers!¡±

    ¡°I would¡¯ve never guessed they were from you, but I¡¯m so happy they were!¡± She exclaimed to my surprise. ¡°Thank you so much!¡±

    ¡°Karyn, I know you can¡¯t get out much, but I would love to take you out sometime,¡± I offered. ¡°If you¡¯re not interested though, I completely understand. I don¡¯t want to lose your friendship.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s make plans!¡± She responded enthusiastically. ¡°I would love to go out with you!¡±

    I had to pinch myself¡ªI couldn¡¯t believe how happy and receptive she was. I also couldn¡¯t believe I followed my heart, and it paid off. There was something very special about us, and I couldn¡¯t wait to find out what the future had in store. Sammy was right: send her roses and life could smell like one. At twenty-nine years old, after years of loneliness, I found a rose of my own in Karyn Gold.

    For the next few weeks that followed, we emailed each other every morning until we were able to see each other in the afternoon. She not only complimented me but even admitted she liked me for the longest time. How could Sammy see all this yet I hardly did? It was a perfect example of how my low self-esteem blinded me to what others saw. Karyn even went on to tell pretty much everyone at the company I was the one who sent her the roses, which made me feel special that she was proud enough to tell everyone. Especially when I knew if I ever sent Sara roses anonymously at work then revealed they came from me, she would have called in sick for an entire week out of embarrassment. In hindsight, I probably should¡¯ve asked her to keep it a secret. Then again, I didn¡¯t feel right about being dishonest to my fellow co-workers¡ªit would only inspire gossip and resentment. I knew there were consequences for sending flowers to her at work, but it provided me with an opportunity to show people the empathy I had for others. I knew Mr. Painter and even Gina would come down on me a little more, but it gave me a chance to show them that I took my job seriously. If we could never be proud of the things we did in life, then we should never do them.

    During this time, we tried to coordinate our first date, but she was still having issues with her ex-boyfriend. I told her no matter how anxious I was to go out with her, there was no rush¡ªwe would go out when the time was right for her. As fall turned into winter, every day at work, her and I emailed each other throughout the morning hours before we spoke in the afternoon. Although we continued to express a mutual admiration for each other, she never talked about going out on a date, and even stopped asking what I was doing on the weekends. Karyn always made it a point to say ¡°goodnight¡± to me before she left for the day, but even that ceased. These subtle changes led me to wonder one thing¡ªdid she have a change of heart? The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her, but I never expected four months would pass without a single date. Although I wanted to remain respectful to the situation with the father of her son, I also needed to know if our date was something I shouldn¡¯t set my heart on anymore.

    ¡°Hey, Landyn!¡± Said a sudden deep voice that startled me¡ªit was Sebastian Sherman who suddenly popped his head inside my office after Sammy had just stepped out for the day. ¡°When you see Karyn, can you have her come to my office?¡±

    ¡°Sure! I¡¯ll let her know.¡± I assured.

    The company just started to expand its business internationally into Japan and other parts of Europe. Pedichairs was growing beyond its expectations and doing extremely well, so the plan was for Sebastian to take over as the Company¡¯s CEO when his father retired at the end of the year. He was young, charismatic, and a down-to-earth leader who developed many of the new wheelchair models that brought international business to the company. Pedichairs received over ten million dollars of new orders for a wheelchair model that was months away from being produced. Sebastian¡¯s innovations put the company in a position of having a terrific future, and he was clearly the reason for its sudden and continued success. The company seemed to be in great hands, and I felt super lucky to be a small part of it.

    When I saw Karyn emerge from outside my office window, I motioned for her to come in.

    ¡°Sebastian was just looking for you. He wants you to go to his office.¡± I said after she poked her head inside.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± She said, then quickly vanished from view.

    After she fled the scene, I flashbacked to nine years earlier¡ªthe day Tyler Semenchski came into Frugals to see Sara. I had no right to feel this way; Karyn wasn¡¯t even my girlfriend, but for some reason, I felt the same inadequacy I did on that day. I then had to ask myself a hard question¡ªwould a woman who truly liked me ever be this patient? Wouldn¡¯t she have to feel the same anxiousness and desire I did? Or was she giving the father of her son a second chance? When it scared me to face these questions, let alone answer them, I knew I had to talk to her. When she returned from Sebastian¡¯s office, about ten minutes before she went home for the weekend, I decided to see where I stood with her. I then vacated my office, looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, and knelt down beside her.

    ¡°Hey¡­are you busy this weekend?¡± I whispered while she sat at her desk. ¡°Can you get away for an hour tomorrow or Sunday night so I could take you out to dinner? I¡¯ll pay for a babysitter if you need one.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­thanks, but I¡¯m just going through a lot, Landyn.¡± She said softly as she turned around to look behind her. ¡°I¡¯m tryin¡¯ to repair myself from the damage of my last relationship. I can¡¯t date anyone right now. I hope you understand.¡±

    ¡°I totally understand. I¡¯m sorry, Karyn¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to push it.¡± I whispered back as I tried to hide my disappointment.

    ¡°You¡¯re a really nice guy, and I do like you a lot¡­but I¡¯m just not ready.¡± She quietly expounded.

    ¡°I respect that, and I appreciate you letting me know,¡± I said as I stood up. ¡°Have a great weekend.¡±

    ¡°You too,¡± She said with her eyes on her keyboard.

    Seconds later I was left staring at an in-box that mirrored my own emptiness¡ªcaught in my own version of hell¡­yet again. Amid my deflated feelings, I tried to look at things positively¡ªat least I knew she still liked me, and it was just bad timing. She never rejected me and was just understandably working through the trauma her ex levied upon her. Once she eradicated him from her mind, I had emails that proved she liked me enough to give me a chance. I just needed to exercise a little more patience with her¡ªgood things came to those who wait. After I put together a to-do list for the following week and reformed my in-box to Mr. Painter¡¯s liking, I departed for the weekend with a positive mindset. On my way out, I noticed Sebastian¡¯s office door was slightly ajar. I passed by his office every evening on the way out, but his door was always closed¡ªhe usually left before I did. On this Friday though, he was here, and since he would be the last one in the office after I left, I feared he might forget to lock up for the weekend. I then opened the door just enough to poke my head inside to let him know he was the last one in the office and to remind him that he had to lock up.

    ¡°Hey Sebastian, you¡¯re the last¡­one¡­¡± I said but found it impossible to finish my sentence.

    When I opened the door, Karyn faced me while perched on Sebastian¡¯s lap with her lips on his and her fingers pressed into his back. Her long, unusually frizzy brown hair dangled messily over her face, yet not enough to hide her disdain. She glared at me with the kind of disgust that should only be reserved for someone who hurt her beyond repair¡ªlike she never knew me at all.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said as I slowly closed the door.

    Seconds later, I was peering up into a moonless Friday night sky, already feeling the dread of Monday and the longest forty-eight hours of my life.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 14 ~ DENISE

    The annals of time have shown there was nothing worth dying for more than love. Many have died for their love of country, their love of children, their love of equity, their love of heartbreakers, their love of peace, and even for their love of sinful people. Whether in the literal sense or not, internally or externally, many have died for love. They were the courageous ones who planted the seeds of heroism, the ones who stood for more than earthly treasures and without any critical acclaim. They simply died for their love of others. They died so love could have both purpose and meaning¡ªto show the world love was real and not a myth. Those who killed themselves because they were rejected by love were the ones who did not die for it, they died only for themselves. They were the ones who gave up on love for all the wrong reasons, forgetting what the universe promised them¡ªthat love redeems itself and always wins in the end. Like Father Time, love was also undefeated.

    They say love happens when you least expect it, never when its sought, and I stopped consciously searching for love entirely. Nine months after my fallout with Karyn, and a year away from obtaining my second bachelor¡¯s degree, all I offered someone was my potential. To women, however, love was art and not a science. They didn¡¯t want to deal with theories or hypotheticals, and they had no time to conduct tests and wait for a conclusion. What they wanted was the tangible, finished product¡­Preferably a masterpiece. Something they could see, touch, connect with, and reap instant benefits from. I resigned to the fact my timing was way off to meet someone. I needed to focus on my studies, see where my career led me, and then date again. When I carried a three-point-eight grade point average after my first year of night school, I began to consider other career options over staying with Pedichairs. The pursuit of an accounting degree opened my eyes as to why I was hired to work in an accounting department with a finance degree¡ªbecause college graduates with accounting degrees who wanted to maximize their earning potential usually went into the public sector. Since Pedichairs was a private company, they were lucky to get an employee with a bachelor¡¯s degree in anything¡ªbasically, an employee with zero accounting experience like myself. If I wanted to get into public accounting, I had to network for a chance to join the larger public accounting firms. There were a few accounting fraternities for networking on campus, but my full-time work schedule made it impossible to join them, which put me out of the running for jobs with the big public accounting firms.

    In June 2001, my childhood friend, Vance Ryan, met someone while in law school. He invited me to go to a few campus functions, and when I met his girlfriend for the first time, I quickly learned there couldn¡¯t have been two people more made for each other. Vance came a long way from the days of ringing a doorbell to drop gifts off on a girl¡¯s front porch and hiding behind parked cars. Being a witness to his happiness. and seeing him bring an end to his own string of bad luck with women, gave me a ton of hope. Over the years, Vance became my partner in crime. Not only were we best friends since elementary school, but we also went out to clubs together after I broke up with Sara. We took turns driving out each weekend to the Australian Beach Club in Anaheim¡ªa forty-five-minute drive we never had a problem making due the many scantily clad attractive women that loved to dance there. Although they weren¡¯t always friendly, I just chalked it up to my ¡°nothing to offer¡± position with them and enjoyed my inebriation. Vance, on the other hand wasn¡¯t thrilled with their judgments of him but he had more to offer them than I did.

    One night he asked this one blonde bombshell if she wanted to dance but he was met with a dismissive glance that told him, ¡®no thanks.¡¯ A couple of hours later, when she passed him by after circling the bar for about the seventh time, on an obvious mad hunt for a man worthy of her, Vance handed her a ten-dollar bill then told her, ¡°I¡¯ll take Tea Biscuit to win.¡± In a huff, she went straight to the muscular bartender, who flexed his biceps at Vance and then pretended to be her boyfriend. When she bragged about her pseudo boyfriend to him, Vance hurled a zinger, ¡°I wonder what your boyfriend will be doing ten years from now? Let me guess, um¡­Bartending?¡± The next thing I knew, Vance was being escorted out of the bar by three bouncers.

    Although a greatly anticipated night came to a screeching halt, I wouldn¡¯t have changed a thing about it¡ªhis theatrics made it one of the funniest nights of my life. A big part of me died when he met Jessica, but it was a part that had to, and when he asked me to be his best man, I couldn¡¯t have been more honored.

    Vance loved cruises, and he and Jessica invited me on my first one a couple of years earlier through the Mexican cities of Puerto Vallarta, Mazatl¨¢n, and Cabo San Lucas. We had a blast, so I knew he wouldn¡¯t be opposed to the idea of a cruise for his final send-off. I organized a three-day bachelor party cruise to Ensenada, much to the chagrin of a few who wanted the traditional strip club finale. When Vance thanked me for going with the more respectable route, I knew I made the right choice. I had gotten to know Jessica more than the others did and saw too much love between them¡ªenough to know the last place he wanted to go was a strip club.

    I never dreamt of being a millionaire or spending my free time on a boat or a private plane visiting places anytime I wanted to. All I ever wanted was to be happily married¡ªI never thought it was too much to ask for. When Vance got engaged, it hit me hard¡ªI always thought falling in love and getting married was a given by this time. Being single put me in a bad enough state of mind to where I felt like I was in a mid-life crisis. I tried holding onto the feelings of pure bliss when I fell for Sara and cared for Karyn¡ªto cut off the negative emotions embedded from my past disappointments as the hands of time continued to move while my life stood still. I didn¡¯t feel restless or desperate, but there were times I couldn¡¯t help but feel depressed. All I could do was lean on my potential and dare to dream again.

    I rounded up four of Vance¡¯s closest friends to join us on the cruise. When some were unable to come up with the cash for the excursion, I put the entire three-thousand-dollar bill on my credit card. Since we had to pay three months before the ship left the dock, I asked them to pay me back the day of the cruise. When that day arrived and three of the four didn¡¯t have the money, it strained me financially. I planned to cover all of Vance¡¯s expenses on the trip but now I feared falling into credit card debt. Regardless, I cared more about him having a great time than what I faced financially after the cruise and used the rest of my unused credit card balance to ensure he did. Money was important, but all the money in the world could never buy back lost time.

    The first day on a cruise ship always got the best of me¡ªalways drinking more than I should. The excitement of being with great friends, away from the stress of life with a drink in my hand, made me lose count of how many Long Island Iced Teas I had and in my escape from reality. Although I had some things happen that left me disheartened by life, I was always the ¡®happy¡¯ drunk. Inhibitions died quickly whenever I consumed alcohol, and to know I didn¡¯t have to drive home only enticed me to become less cautious. Recalling the first day of my last cruise brought back a fond memory¡ªwhen three attractive women instructed me to meet them at the ship¡¯s jacuzzi after the dance club closed. As I stumbled over myself while asking them where it was, they had to repeat its location to me several times. Somehow I found my cabin to change into my swim trunks and then walked the entire ship several times in search of this oasis. Even after I asked someone about the Jacuzzi¡¯s location and they pointed me in the right direction¡ªI still couldn¡¯t find it. I then got sidetracked when I came across a white grand piano in the middle of nowhere. Feeling I¡¯d probably run across Jimmy Hoffa before this jacuzzi, I decided to bang on the grand piano¡¯s keys instead. After I butchered playing Motley Crue¡¯s ¡°Home Sweet Home¡±, the only song I thought I knew how to play, I laid my head down on the keys and closed my eyes.

    What had to be two hours later, I awoke to a tap on my back and was ordered by a ship attendant to ¡°get off the damn grand piano¡± and to go to my cabin. I then begrudgingly obliged nearly throwing up all over the piano before I left. I eventually managed to find my cabin, but I didn¡¯t see the light of day as the ship stopped in Puerto Vallarta¡ªtoo hungover to join the others for scuba diving. Now christened like a new ship, the remaining six days of my first cruise was tame for me, but on the last day, a fellow male cruise partier approached me.

    ¡°I need to know.¡± He said with furrowed brows, looking concerned.

    ¡°Alright.¡± I responded with apprehension.

    ¡°Did you ever meet up with those girls at the Jacuzzi?¡±

    My answer crushed him more than it did me. I learned my lesson though¡ªlike a marathon runner you need to pace yourself on a cruise.

    With a chance to redeem myself on my second cruise, the ship threw a port departure party offering drink specials to all its passengers. After I found my room and stowed away my belongings, I joined our group on deck for drinks. The tall and reedy Vance, already several drinks in, slung his left arm over my shoulder. His thin brown hair dangled into his russet eyes while a big smile formed upon his face. It felt like we were back at the Australian Beach Club eight years ago¡ªfull of excitement and wonder of what the night would bring us.

    ¡°Hey man¡­thanks brother! This is gonna be a BLAST!¡± He proclaimed as he took a swig of what looked like a Bloody Mary.

    ¡°Anything you want, let me know.¡± I said as I slung my right arm upon his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s your party, and I want you to have a great time.¡±

    ¡°You know¡­you know what I want, Land?¡± He said as he looked out over the crowded deck.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I want you to have a good time.¡± He announced as he poked his finger into my chest. ¡°I wanna see you meet someone. You¡¯re the best guy on this ship.¡±

    ¡°This cruise isn¡¯t about me, it¡¯s about you.¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯m just happy to be hangin¡¯ out with you again, man. Nice of you to say but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m the best guy on this ship.¡±

    ¡°Look¡­They always say the sky is the limit for us, right?¡± He slurred.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve heard somethin¡¯ like that before.¡±

    ¡°Well for you¡­For you the universe is the limit.¡±

    ¡°How wasted are you?¡±

    ¡°Look, will you just shut up for a second and hear me out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± I said playing along.

    ¡°Dude, do you even realize how many outstanding qualities you have? You¡¯re smart. You work hard. You have a good future ahead of you. I mean¡­People can actually count on you. Even Jessica doesn¡¯t understand why you¡¯re single. She thinks you may be gay.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful.¡± I said shaking my head and looking away. ¡°Another one.¡±

    ¡°If she only knew.¡± He laughed holding the knowledge it wasn¡¯t a good idea to share our clubbing stories with her. ¡°You got all the tools in the toolbox¡ªyou just have to start using them. And who knows? The one you¡¯ve been waiting for¡­She could be on this ship.¡±

    ¡°Get a little alcohol in you, and you get all mushy on me. I appreciate the kind words, but this cruise isn¡¯t about me meeting someone¡ªIt¡¯s about you having an awesome time. So, enjoy yourself but thanks¡ªI could use the pick-me-up.¡±

    ¡°No, thank you, Land. THANK YOU. ¡°He said as he patted me on the chest. ¡°Now it¡¯s time to get your drink on!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do!¡±

    Vance knew about Karyn and my disappointment with the way it all went down. I had to tell him the story twice because he thought I was joking with him the first time I told it. He recalled on our drives to the dance club how I often talked about us remaining close friends after we were married¡ªhow I wanted our kids to grow up together the way we did. Vance seemed to think I gave up on that dream¡ªthat my experience with Karyn and his engagement altered its likelihood. His pep talk offered me a reminder though¡ªmy character traits were just as valuable as money, and it gave me a little confidence going into the weekend.

    After a couple of Crown Royals on the rocks, I sauntered over to the rest of my friends who had engaged a small group of women in conversation. Intruding on their momentum was unintended, but I also didn¡¯t want to be standoffish¡ªespecially when I felt suddenly social. The three girls, somewhere in their late twenties to early thirties, were average looking. One appeared borderline Amazonian with a broad back, silky black hair, and milky white skin. The second looked like a young Bernadette Peters¡ªcute and busty but seemed as plain as white Wonder bread. The third one, though, had Jennifer Aniston styled medium length straight brown-blonde hair with soft highlights that parted in the center and perfectly contoured her round face. She had noticeably curvaceous hips without an interfering stomach, glowing skin and a pair of nicely toned legs that made her the standout of her group.

    When I appeared before them with a drink in each hand, the other two girls smiled at me, while the standout ignored my presence. Each time she spoke, she not only flashed perfect white teeth but did so with such poise and purpose that it left me wholly disheartened she never acknowledged my existence. She was respectfully appropriate though¡ªnever laughing but rather smiling at the crude jokes and commenting properly to engage herself, which exposed a pair of dimples that only further added to her appeal. Although she was by far the most captivating woman in her group, none of the single guys in my group seemed interested in her. I knew nothing about her thirty minutes earlier, but after she carried herself so cerebrally that it made the rest of us appear brain dead, it left me wanting to catch up on any lost time between us. Since my participation was next to nil though, a ghost would¡¯ve been more visible to her. When we broke away to dress for dinner, I put the encounter behind me.

    After dinner, our group decided to go to the piano bar for drinks, and I ran back to the cabin to get out of my suit and into something more casual. When I returned twenty minutes later, I could hear a booming rendition of the ¡°All in the Family¡± theme song coming from the piano bar. When I ventured inside, I couldn¡¯t be prepared for what I saw¡ªVance sharing the piano bench with the pianist and squawking into the microphone as the voice of Edith Bunker. When he broke into Jean Stapleton¡¯s ending verse: ¡°Those. Were. The. Days.¡± I had a feeling this would be no ordinary trip. As a mixture of applause and laughter filled the air, it bummed me out to know moments like this were coming to an end. If I wasn¡¯t losing a girlfriend, I was losing a great friend like Vance who made life enjoyable¡ªIt all just seemed a little unfair than usual.

    ¡°Nice job, Edith.¡± I said as I purposely bumped into Vance while hoping he was heading to where the rest of the group was.

    ¡°Hey Land¡­Take a Cab, will ya?¡± He snickered then pointed at the group¡¯s table where a lone bottle of wine rested upon it.

    ¡°What? Take a cab? You want to get a taxi?¡± I howled.

    ¡°Ha! You remember that!?¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I said then bent over with my hands on my knees trying to contain myself from laughing. ¡°All John ever did was drink beer and listen to Slayer! Then one night out of the blue he tells our waitress ¡°I¡¯ll take a cab?¡±

    ¡°We were both like¡­what the fuck? We just got here!¡± Vance roared.

    ¡°I had no idea what a cabernet was!¡± I retorted.

    ¡°Me too! I had no fuckin¡¯ clue what he was talkin¡¯ about! Yeah¡­Well I guess that happens when you meet someone¡ªyou become refined.¡±

    ¡°He got refined way before any of us were ready for it¡ªthat¡¯s for sure.¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh by the way, I snuck a few bottles of Cab on board¡ªbut that one has your name written all over it.¡± Said Vance as he pointed to a bottle on our table. ¡°Grab a glass then meet us at the bar. We¡¯re just right over there.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­I¡¯ll be over in a second.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re on the clock!¡± He said, then quickly ambled away while his own drink spilled sporadically upon the crimson carpeted floor.

    While our group congregated at the bar in the middle of the room, I took a seat at our table for a minute. I really needed this, I thought, while I sat there alone still adjusting to the soft sway of the ship. It was nice to put the stress of full-time work, school and heartache behind me¡ªCould it be I needed this bachelor party more than Vance did? As I poured myself a half glass of cabernet sauvignon, I noticed that it was made in 1986¡ªfifteen years earlier. It brought me back to my ninth-grade year walking around wearing a Walkman latched to the side of my hip listening to Journey. The song ¡°I¡¯ll Be Alright Without You¡± came out that year and it instantly came on like a radio station inside my head. I was happy for Vance; he had a hard time meeting women too, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before a girl would see how great he was¡ªI just wished it happened when I didn¡¯t feel so alone, but life never worked that way for anyone.

    I then took the tulip shaped glass and gently swirled it around to activate the wine¡¯s aroma. After I snuck my nose in to inhale its cherry scent, I took a sip of what had to be the best wine I ever tasted. After I took another sip, I stared into my glass until the wine smoothed itself out. As I gazed further, I thought of the guys in our group and how easy it was for them to talk to girls without any reservations. I¡¯m sure they had their own self-esteem issues to deal with, so why couldn¡¯t I just put mine behind me the way they did? Here I was, sitting on a cruise ship at thirty years old, and still without a single sexually intimate experience to speak of¡ªsomething I could never tell the guys about. It just bummed me out to feel that much out of place. Why couldn¡¯t I take the same chances they took talking to women? Why did I always feel whatever I offered them came up short? While I sat there in quiet contemplation of how I could use this cruise as a way to change my life, a distinctive voice suddenly penetrated my ears.

    ¡°May I sit down with you?¡± Asked one of the girls from the earlier port departure party.

    ¡°Certainly.¡± I said as I slowly rose from my seat. ¡°Would you like a glass of cab?¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, please.¡±

    As she sat down in the black leather booth and her soft cool skin lightly brushed mine, I took a seat next to her then gazed at her in disbelief¡ªshe was the one who caught my eye earlier; the standout. With the wine bottle in one hand, I reached for an empty wine glass on the table, handed it to her and began to pour.

    ¡°Is that okay?¡± I asked as she extended her glass to me.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect,¡± she said when the glass became half full. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± I replied as I returned the bottle to its original spot on the table.

    She then began to peer then point over at the main bar sixty feet across from us.

    ¡°You¡¯re with that group and the one guy who was just at the piano, right? Weren¡¯t we talkin¡¯ to you guys earlier?¡±

    ¡°Should I admit that?¡± I answered half-jokingly.

    ¡°You¡¯re not with those guys over there?¡± She probed shaking her head.

    Feeling a bit self-conscious about my joke, I nervously swooshed the wine around in my glass hoping it would relax me.

    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding...I¡¯m with them. We¡¯re actually here for Edith Bunker¡¯s bachelor party. I¡¯m her best man.¡±

    ¡°Ha! He¡¯s a bit on the eccentric side, isn¡¯t he?¡± She responded, flashing her dimples at me.

    ¡°Just a bit.¡± I smiled back. ¡°I¡¯m really going to miss hangin¡¯ out with the guy. He¡¯s a blast.¡±

    ¡°When¡¯s the wedding?¡± She inquired, moving her hair behind her ear with her fingers.

    ¡°In two weeks. I just hope he enjoys the sendoff.¡±

    ¡°By the look of things¡­he already is.¡± Flashing her dimples at me one more time before taking a sip from her glass.

    Her smile captivated me in a way I hadn¡¯t felt before and I got lost in it for a minute. I just couldn¡¯t believe the one I liked was choosing to hang out with me instead of her friends. Now that she was here, I didn¡¯t want to see her leave so I tried to quickly think of a question to keep our conversation going.

    ¡°How do you like the wine?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually pretty good.¡± She replied with a hint of surprise in her tone.

    ¡°I know what you mean. I was surprised it tasted good too.¡±

    She then slightly shifted her body to me as her soft bare leg brushed against mine.

    ¡°I noticed you didn¡¯t have much to say earlier, but you¡¯re much more talkative now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m actually pretty extroverted.¡± I lied.

    ¡°Then why were you so quiet?¡±

    ¡°Um, I apologize if you found that rude of me. I felt I might be intruding on your conversation.¡± I scrambled, surprised she even noticed my presence. ¡°I¡¯m Landyn, by the way¡­ Landyn Lastman.¡±

    ¡°Oh no! I didn¡¯t think that was rude at all. I just noticed you were quiet,¡± she then extended her hand out to mine. ¡°Denise Salem. Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Really nice to meet you, Denise.¡± I said as I put her warm small hand in mine.

    ¡°So¡­What do you do when you¡¯re not throwing bachelor parties?¡±

    ¡°You promise not to leave if I tell you?¡±

    ¡°I promise,¡± she softly giggled as she inched a little closer to me, her legs now against mine.

    When I felt her legs on mine, it gave me the confidence to see if she had a sense of humor.

    ¡°I¡¯m a rodeo clown.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Reacting with unbridled interest in her voice, her wide, white smile exposing those cheek indentations that made my heart beat faster. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not kiddin¡¯¡­I¡¯m a rodeo clown, and I take my job very seriously,¡± I stated, struggling to maintain my poker face as the wine buzz increased my temerity. ¡°I wear clown make-up and jump in and out of barrels for a living¡ªthe whole nine yards.¡±

    ¡°No way! That¡¯s so interesting!¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m an interesting individual.¡±

    ¡°Who would¡¯ve thought? Can I see you perform sometime?¡± She asked wide-eyed, completely engaged in all I had to say.

    ¡°Absolutely. But only if...¡±

    ¡°Only if? Only if what?¡±

    ¡°Only if I really was a rodeo clown.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She nudged her body into mine. ¡°Of all things, why would you tell me you¡¯re a rodeo clown?¡±

    ¡°I usually have to make up some other profession before I tell people what I actually do¡ªto soften the blow.¡±

    ¡°Then what is it that you actually do?¡±

    ¡°Can I get a drum roll please?¡±

    With a dead-panned look on her face, it seemed a drum roll was out of the question.

    ¡°I¡¯m an accountant.¡± I confessed. ¡°Ta-da.¡±

    ¡°I gotta go.¡± She said, abruptly pulling herself away and jumping from out of the booth.

    ¡°Works every time,¡± I shrugged after she turned to me for seemingly an explanation.

    Denise tilted her head at me, smiled deeply enough that her dimples made another appearance, and took her seat against me once more.

    ¡°I forgot.¡± She rose her wine glass up to mine, still smiling. ¡°I don¡¯t break promises.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a diamond in the rough,¡± I grinned back, touching her glass with my own. ¡°Cheers.¡±

    Without removing one article of clothing, Denise astounded me with her own confession¡ªshe was an accountant too. She had just started working for a large public company two months earlier, a homebuilder, and was a Controller in one of its divisions in northern California. Each year, the company gave their divisional employees an all-expense-paid cruise trip¡ªand here she was with roughly over a hundred of her fellow employees, whom she knew only a little longer than me. When I discovered she was thirty-two years old, it left me beyond impressed; she was young to be a Controller. And when she told me she had no children, I was further smitten.

    I then revealed I also had no kids and held aspirations for being a Controller but had another year left of school. After I informed her of my single status, she disclosed that a year earlier, she broke off her engagement to a boyfriend of eight years and was single too. Since I had no comparative relationships to share, I waited for her to bad mouth her ex, but she never did. After eight years and an engagement, it surprised me she seemed no longer emotionally invested in him. For the next hour, we carried a lively conversation over another glass of wine before rejoining our respective parties at the main bar. Before we departed company for the evening, we made plans to meet up again at Senor Frogs, a bar in Ensenada the next morning.

    I had a hard time sleeping that night in anticipation of seeing Denise again. I didn¡¯t want to jump the gun, but the potential for something special was there. I couldn¡¯t believe we were both in the same profession, a common ground I always looked for in someone that led to mutual respect¡ªthe thing I felt my father and mother lacked in their volatile marriage. Although there remained more to learn about Denise, it was hard not to be excited about meeting her. To my astonishment, I wasn¡¯t hungover the next morning, which was a huge difference from my first cruise. Since I was the first one up, I took the liberty of waking up everyone else, much to their dismay, but we arrived in Ensenada at nine a.m. sharp and only had five hours before we had to be back on the ship. Although the weather was warm and hazy, even a bit gloomy, it was all blue skies and sunshine to me.

    When we arrived inside Senor Frogs, I spotted Denise, who was already at the bar with her group. She then made her way over to us and gave me an unexpected hug. After we both sat down in a booth together, we watched our friends perform dance moves that usually required a piece of cardboard to pull off. She shared with me some of the backstories of her co-workers, mostly about their juicy, unspoken relationships. I then told her some of the Pedichairs soap operas¡ªminus the prank call that almost ended my time as a free man and my experience with Karyn. Each time her dimples emerged after something I said, I couldn¡¯t help but feel so alive inside knowing I earned her smile. After we had a few drinks and then lost our self-awareness, we made our way out to the dance floor. As a fifty-person train comprised mostly of our friends shot past us, we joined them as the caboose and shuffled our way throughout the entire bar. When the procession mercifully came to a drunken halt, I slurred my way to communicate to her that I needed to use the restroom. Just before I reached my destination, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°Sooo, what¡¯s up, Land?¡± Echoed a familiar voice.

    ¡°Other than being completely hammered right now?¡± I grinned. ¡°You havin¡¯ a good time, Vance?¡±

    ¡°Not as much as you¡¯re having!¡±

    ¡°This all feels like a dream,¡± I said, breaking into a smile.

    ¡°Did you bring any condoms with you?¡±

    ¡°Condoms?¡± I laughed. ¡°Dude, I just met her!¡±

    ¡°Yeah but, it looks like she¡¯s really into you¡­here.¡± He handed me a square purple packet. ¡°Hendo gave this to me last night. You know I¡¯m not gonna use it.¡±

    I never carried condoms, always opting for a real relationship, and not one centered on sex. I believed in love too much to get involved with someone too soon. If I wasn¡¯t in love, then I wasn¡¯t sleeping with them. At thirty, though, I had yet to make love to anyone, and a case could be made I hadn¡¯t even come close. I always embraced a party atmosphere, yet I always stopped short of having one-night stands¡­A total fraud of the bar scene. Since I never had a relationship to reinforce someone¡¯s deep attraction for me, I never believed I was good enough and a one-night stand only invited total rejection. After I reluctantly accepted Vance¡¯s offering, I used the restroom and even tipped the attendant who handed me a paper towel¡ªI felt that good. I feared Denise might see the condom in my pocket and think I was presumptuous, so I stuck it between a wad of twenties and stuffed it back into my pocket before I vacated the restroom area. I then met up with my group to tend to my duty as Vance¡¯s best man. Denise soon found me, though, and brought me back out to the dance floor with her. A few songs later, we rejoined the group and took some pictures. After the last photo was taken, she pulled me aside.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go for a walk,¡± she said, leaning in and grabbing my hand.

    I nodded without hesitation, acknowledged her dimples with a smile of my own and exited the club with her. Once we were outside and away from the others, we walked on a narrow asphalt path along an Ensenada beach. I couldn¡¯t help but notice the gloomy morning sky was now replaced by the clear view of a star that began its descent into the Pacific. As we held hands and continued our stroll, she asked me about my past relationships, and I told her about Sara. She then revealed her ex-boyfriend moved to Cabo San Lucas after he broke off their engagement. I then waited for a break in her voice, but only heard the sound of waves a few feet from us.

    ¡°That must¡¯ve been hard on you. I mean, how can you just walk away from eight years? I¡¯d have a hard time walking away from eight months. Did he cheat on you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°He never cheated on me¡ªwe were both faithful to each other. It was entirely his decision to break it off though, and he moved way down south to Cabo while I chose to remain in Citrus Heights. Have you ever been to Citrus Heights?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of it.¡± I admitted, shaking my head. ¡°How far is it from Los Angeles?¡±

    ¡°About six hours. It¡¯s in northern California.¡± She said while brushing her hair away from her eyes as a soft breeze blew. ¡°Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± I said as I stopped walking to face her, with her hand still in mine.

    ¡°Me too.¡± Her eyes turned to the Pacific¡¯s falling star, her hair still moving slightly in the breeze. ¡°Would¡­ you ever consider one?¡±

    We were both pretty intoxicated but her question caught me completely off guard. I didn¡¯t know how to answer it. Was it a trap? All I could do was be honest with her.

    ¡°If I really cared for the person, I would without a doubt.¡±

    ¡°You sound like a hopeless romantic!¡± She laughed, turning her face back to me.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of one.¡± Giving her a lopsided smile in return, her lively hair beautifying her brown eyes like the sun upon the water, inspiring romantic feelings within me. ¡°So, I guess that¡¯s fair to say.¡±

    ¡°What do you look for in someone?¡±

    ¡°My ex-girlfriend was not much of a communicator. Whenever we had disagreements, she always went silent on me¡­Sometimes for days. I don¡¯t like unresolved issues to linger¡ªit destroys a relationship.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a pet peeve of mine too.¡± She nodded in understanding.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for someone who communicates well so our relationship can grow, but all I¡¯m really looking for is a good person. Someone I can trust, who knows what love is and doesn¡¯t take it for granted. Someone who has both inner and outer beauty.¡± I said. ¡°May I ask what you look for in someone?¡±

    ¡°I look for the same things, too, but mostly I just want a nice guy. It seems like every guy I meet is a jerk. I¡¯m looking for someone who respects me¡ªI need a real man¡­A gentleman.¡±

    I was caught off guard by her response, how it pretty much just mimicked my own. I guess I expected more after revealing I was a hopeless romantic¡ªthat she would feel safe enough to open up to me. The last thing I wanted to do was overthink things but I also didn¡¯t want to get burned again either. Or maybe I was just too paranoid after what happened with Karyn? For a hopeless romantic, I was as equally hopeless at reading women. If she was used to meeting jerks, I guess her guard was always naturally up too.

    ¡°That¡¯s not too much to ask for,¡± I said, wishing I had met her sooner. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe guys would ever disrespect you.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been nothing but sweet to me.¡±

    ¡°I can be a bitch sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I know males who can be bitches too, ya know!¡± I laughed. ¡°And I can be a jerk every once a while¡ªI¡¯d just rather not be.¡±

    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°How come you¡¯re not married or never have been?¡±

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°You just seem like a really good catch.¡±

    I was truly speechless. I always felt like a good catch, but no woman had ever given me the impression they saw me as one. I didn¡¯t want to show a lack of confidence so I went the humble route.

    ¡°I just haven¡¯t been fortunate enough to meet the right one,¡± I answered, looking away then back into her eyes. ¡°But that¡¯s always subject to change.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s subject to change,¡± she whispered softly, putting her hands on my chest, licking her lips and then gazing up at me. ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you goin¡¯ for it?¡±

    I then put my hands upon the back of her waist and slowly drew her body into mine. Her eyes then seduced my own as our lips tasted the desire for each other. In tandem with our display of affection, our hands expressed our previously repressed emotions without control. Unable to hide the growing sensation inside me, I self-consciously pulled away, placing my forehead upon hers and running a hand through her hair.

    ¡°Would you like to go back to the ship?¡± I whispered, as I brushed my lips against her forehead.

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she confirmed, breathlessly.

    Ten minutes later, a thirty-year wait came to its end as we manifested our feelings in her cabin. Utilizing the accomplice presented to me by Vance, I experienced a casualty of love¡ªa part of me I needed to kill just to have a chance with Denise. Afterwards, I held her in my arms upon my resting heart, while the ship rocked us gently on a fair sea¡ªa great peace. After a short nap, we took a quick shower together, then joined our respective parties for dinner. When I arrived twenty minutes late to our dinner table, Vance sat down next to me, patted me on the back, handed me a Corona and then simply stared at me with a knowing smile.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± I asked, then took a drink from the bottle.

    ¡°Oh, come on, Land! How was it? Everyone saw you guys take off together.¡±

    ¡°It¡­ It was great. She¡¯s great.¡± I hesitated, answering affirmatively yet feeling like I betrayed Denise at the same time. ¡°You know me¡­ I don¡¯t do this kind of thing. You know how I was with Sara, how I was willing to wait for marriage, and she gave herself to someone who¡­someone who didn¡¯t even deserve her.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± Chuckled Vince as he nudged me with his arm.

    ¡°My relationship with Sara failed anyway without having sex. I couldn¡¯t take the chance of that happening again, right? I feel this is a game-changer for me, ya know? I couldn¡¯t risk letting the moment escape from me here with Denise, yet I never expected to actually have sex with her. I still don¡¯t believe it.¡± I explained trying to catch my breath from all the excitement I felt. ¡°I guess it¡¯s true¡ªthings happen when you least expect them to.¡±

    ¡°Only time will tell, but I¡¯ll tell you this much¡­ She¡¯s one lucky girl. She¡¯s with the best man I know, and she doesn¡¯t even know it,¡± he said with a sincerity I¡¯ve never seen from him before. ¡°And DO NOT worry about me...okay? I¡¯m having a lot of fun, but I want you to enjoy this. You¡¯ve been waiting a long time for this, brother. Don¡¯t worry about us.¡±

    ¡°Are you really havin¡¯ a good time?¡± I asked with genuine concern. ¡°This party is about you, not about my libido. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see her again after the cruise. I can let her know I have to tend to my best man duties and hang out with the group I came with¡ªshe¡¯d totally understand.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m havin¡¯ the time of my life, especially knowin¡¯ how happy you are right now! I can give you some more condoms when we get back to the cabin¡ªHendo must have a lifetime supply of them or somethin¡¯.¡± He said bringing the bottom of his Corona bottle and tapping it on top of mine. ¡°Cheers!¡±

    ¡°Ahhhh!¡± I jumped back, then quickly strapped my lips to the beer bottle to prevent it from foaming all over me.

    The following two nights were spent in Denise¡¯s cabin, unable to curb our voracious hunger to know each other intimately. The moon watched over us each night, shining purposely through her cabin window to illuminate an event thirty years in the making for me. On our last night, after we satisfied our hunger for each other, she sat up in her bed and stared outside the cabin window¡ªher gaze rivaling the depth of the ocean floor beneath us. As I watched the moonlight shine upon her tanned naked skin, I lifted up her hair enough to kiss the base of her neck and then wrapped my arms around her. Her head fell slowly back upon my shoulder as I held her tight, unwilling to let go while she kept her eyes well beyond this moment.

    ¡°You okay?¡± I whispered, putting my face against hers.

    ¡°I¡¯m just sad that this is our last night together,¡± she broke tearfully. ¡°I¡¯m worried I¡¯m never going to hear from you again.¡±

    ¡°Denise,¡± I soothed, gently shifting her body into my left arm¡ªenough for her to see my eyes, but not enough to leave my embrace. ¡°I¡¯m sad too. I had the time of my life with you. I don¡¯t know the kinds of men you¡¯ve met, but I¡¯ve never done this with anyone before. The others you¡¯ve met before were just too foolish to know how great you are, so unless you stop me, I¡¯m calling you the very second I get home.¡±

    ¡°You promise?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, kissing her softly. ¡°I don¡¯t break promises either.¡±

    Denise was like a baby bird that fell from its nest, unable to fend for itself and left to die on the sidewalk while people walked obliviously by. When I learned she was abandoned by her father as a child, I instinctively knew what she feared: the same fate with me. To ease her fears, I told her the truth¡ªthat I would not say but prove to her that I was different from any man she had ever known. I basically experienced the same with women, and she would see over time that I was a man of action, not words. Of course, I was sure to learn more about Denise over time, too, but we already had a foundation of mutual respect through our common careers and similar life experiences. A solid ground should keep us together for the long haul, even if the distance proved to be an obstacle. The space between us was a little scary, but also a good thing since we were both busy with our careers. I had a full work and school schedule¡ªtoo busy and too tired to partake in any kind of nightlife anymore. Not only should the distance help keep the relationship fresh, but also allow us to focus on what provided us with a potential bountiful life.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The sound of her voice alone energized me, and that was a beautiful thing since we¡¯d have to rely on the phone to nurture our relationship. As I held her in my arms and stroked her hair, I thought about how much life I¡¯ve missed out on¡ªhiding behind my jobs and school, afraid to be hurt again. Those fears not only left me with such an empty life, but a loss of years I could never reclaim. Our last night together brought a brutal confirmation of how dull and insignificant my life truly was. Through Denise, I felt reincarnated, born again to be redeemed. As long as we communicated openly and honestly with each other, we had a chance. I learned through Sara how much that mattered, and I now found myself ironically in a relationship that depended on communication for its survival. I didn¡¯t always believe there was a reason for things, but our dependency on communication and our heartbreaking pasts made it appear we were handpicked for each other.

    When I returned home from the cruise, my mother could sense my metamorphosis, and when she wondered aloud, I couldn¡¯t lie.

    ¡°You met a girl?¡± She shouted, wide-eyed and nearly sliding off from where she sat on the bed when she leaned too far back in disbelief.

    After I satisfied her curiosity with pictures, she cranked the volume knob on her voice to level ten and muted her small flat screen television. When she got cancer, it fed her a sense of mortality, one that created an urgency for grandkids. As much as I wanted it to happen, I had to stay true to my belief in love¡ªunwilling to settle for anything less. My parents bickered so much while growing up, I became naturally picky. I wanted a peaceful, loving, and respectful relationship and was unwilling to bend or break that need for no one.

    ¡°She¡¯s incredible,¡± I swooned as I took a seat in a worn pink recliner that was positioned at the end of her bed. ¡°She¡¯s accomplished, intelligent, and inspiring. We share the same profession, but she already has her accounting degree. She¡¯s also super sweet, classy, and attractive¡ªa total diamond in the rough.¡±

    ¡°Look at you! I¡¯m so happy for you, Landy! Remember to always be attentive, no matter how busy you two get. And never forget to let her know how much you care and how much she means to you,¡± she advised, as she now paced the room then stopping to face me directly. ¡°Hopefully, I can meet her soon!¡±

    ¡°I hate to jump the gun, but it¡¯s really hard not to be excited about our future. I think she¡¯s the one.¡± I conceded. ¡°I¡¯ve seriously forgotten all about what happened with Karyn.¡±

    ¡°See! I¡¯ve always told you things happen for a reason!¡± She exclaimed proudly. ¡°God always knows what¡¯s best for you, Landy. Even if it doesn¡¯t make sense at the time, God has a plan. It just takes a little time to reveal itself to us. Just remember, He loves us too much to ever forsake us.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­Sure He does,¡± I flatly replied.

    Although there was a possibility He may have had a hand in this, it irritated me to no end when my mother brought God into our conversation¡ªshe knew how I felt about Him. If there was a ¡®God,¡¯ why did he let me suffer so much before I met Denise? IN FACT, why would he let me suffer at all? I¡¯ve lived my life with the Ten Commandments in mind and even followed the Golden Rule for good measure. I never stole. I never committed adultery. Never bore false witness. Never dared to covet a neighbor. The thought of murdering someone never entered my mind¡­Okay, maybe once because I was really hurt at the time, but I¡¯ve never carried hate in my heart for anyone, so why did He look upon me so unfavorably? Why did HE allow me to suffer through Karyn, Sara, and all those years in high school alone? How could my mother nudge me to trust HIM when all He ever gave me was disappointment? When I felt alone, where was HE? How could He allow one of his most ardent supporters to get cancer? Why punish her and let evil people who don¡¯t even care about themselves, let alone others, walk this Earth and thrive? God let me suffer for far too long to give me ¡°a reason¡± to know what was best for me.

    Nothing could change my mother¡¯s belief on how God touched or affected our lives. In her mind, He gave her the will to beat cancer, not to die from it. I fought myself not to argue with her about God; in fear of stealing the strength away from her that she needed. I still expected much more from a merciful and loving God than pain and suffering. If God was going to get all the credit for the things that went good in my life, then he was also going to take the heat for all the bad in it. If God was really there, He definitely knew where to find me, but instead chose to remain incognito for thirty years before I met Denise. I still couldn¡¯t find faith in Him.

    ¡°Where does she live, Honey?¡± My mother asked. ¡°Maybe I can invite her over for dinner?¡±

    ¡°Well, um¡­That may be a problem.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? It would be no problem at all! I¡¯d love to make dinner for her!¡±

    ¡°She kind of lives up north,¡± I responded with trepidation.

    ¡°Oh! Where exactly? Pasadena? That¡¯s only a hop, skip, and a jump!¡± She countered, smiling.

    ¡°More like Sacramento,¡± I revealed. ¡°A city called Citrus Heights.¡±

    ¡°Oh. How far is that?¡±

    ¡°Six hours by car, but only a forty-five-minute flight¡ªnot too far.¡±

    My mother looked at me dead-panned, and her shoulders slumped as she walked back to her perch on the bed.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know she lived that far. You¡¯re not planning to move up there, are you?¡± She asked before grabbing the remote control to turn off her television.

    ¡°If she¡¯s the one, I¡¯d have to consider it,¡± I said¡ªmy elation now in danger of deflation. ¡°She¡¯s got a great job up there. I¡¯m still in school, but I¡¯ll be done in a year¡ªI could make the move up north if I have to. It¡¯s really not that far.¡±

    ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. Whatever makes you happy, Honey.¡± She smiled as she slowly rose from her bed, suddenly sore from her vigorous pacing a minute earlier. ¡°Don¡¯t leave¡­I¡¯ll be right back. I have to get dinner ready for your father.¡±

    She would never admit it, but her fear of me moving away was greater than her fear of dying. If everything happened for a reason and this was part of God¡¯s plan¡ªthings she preached to me when things didn¡¯t go my way¡ªthen why make me feel guilty when things finally did? I never planned on meeting Denise; it just happened. My mother was selfless and would never say anything to stop me from doing anything I wanted to do, but she sure knew how to taper my joy. "From the womb to the tomb¡± was her motto, but sometimes the tomb offered the best escape from her guilt trips. Regardless of the heavy-handed Catholicism she levied upon me, I had no regrets telling her I met Denise¡ªI trusted my mother more than anyone.

    As promised, when I returned home from the cruise, I called Denise that same evening. We then spent the next five hours talking on the phone, replaying our time together until one in the morning. When I got into work, I emailed her to see how tired she was after our marathon phone session, and just before her lunch hour, she responded to me.

    Subj: Re: Hi Stranger : )

    Date: 6/1/2001 12:16 PM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hi! Thanks for the sweet email. I think I am back in work mode today, but yesterday was really tough. I think I was still in an alcohol fog. Everyone here was like that, so I didn¡¯t really stand out. I just wish people would quit commenting on how much fun I had. I guess it was okay because I didn¡¯t really know that many people before the cruise and now it¡¯s like we¡¯ve known each other forever.

    I¡¯m glad I met you too. I guess we¡¯re really lucky we met on the first night instead of the third night, so we had more time together. Well, I guess I better go to lunch now. Hopefully, I will talk to you soon!

    When I saw her email come through, I was ecstatic, but at the same time apprehensive since my nightmarish emailing experience with Karyn was still fresh. With Denise, though, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. She seemed to be equally worried about losing me. I didn¡¯t want to overburden her with emails, afraid she would get tired of me, so I waited a day until I sent another one. When I did, she again responded just before her lunch hour.

    Subj: Re: Good Afternoon!

    Date: 6/3/2001 1:50 PM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hey! I was kind of bummed when I didn¡¯t have an e-mail from you yesterday morning. I did realize we talked for about 4 hours the night before, so I shouldn¡¯t have expected one. Anyway, I¡¯m just glad I got to hear from you after all. We went and picked up pictures from the cruise today, and there were some really good ones. There were a few of us with you guys. That¡¯s good because hanging out with you was the best part of the trip & now I have a picture to remind me.

    I noticed you have a very good vocabulary, do you read? I don¡¯t have a good vocabulary, I hate it. It¡¯s something I want to work on. I¡¯m glad you were able to sleep last night. Call me anytime you can¡¯t sleep. I don¡¯t care how late it is. It¡¯s funny because when I left you that message last night, I told you to call me before 10. I did it subconsciously because that way, if you didn¡¯t call, you could just say you got my message after 10. I guess I¡¯m a little insecure also.

    My experience emailing Karyn without reservations, only to learn she hid behind them, made it difficult for me to let my guard down. After all we shared on the cruise, the best three days of my life, it wouldn¡¯t be fair to Denise if I punished her for the way another woman made me feel. When I recalled how other men had treated her, especially her own father, I rolled the dice and tossed any wariness I felt into the fire. I refused to carry fear around any longer, so I could be the man Denise needed me to be. I then began emailing her without reservations¡ªignoring my mind and exposing my heart to allow our relationship to grow.

    Subj: Re: Chiena!

    Date: 6/4/2001 9:51:34 AM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hey! I like getting your emails, so send as many as you want. I enjoyed talking to you this weekend. I still can¡¯t believe we were on the phone for 6 hours on Saturday. I hope we don¡¯t run out of things to talk about! I bet I¡¯ll still be shy when I see you in a few weeks, though. It¡¯s much easier for me on the phone than in person. I was telling my really good friend, Cheryl, about you & she really wants me to meet someone & be happy. I¡¯ve dated a few people recently, and I never like them. I only go out with them once or twice & decide I don¡¯t want to talk to them again. I can never talk to them like I talk to you. She is happy I finally met someone I like, but I knew she would be worried because you live in L.A. She¡¯s always afraid I¡¯m going to move down there. She mentioned the distance between us is probably good, though. When she first started dating her husband, they were 3 hours away from each other & she thinks that in the long run, it worked out for the best because it forced them to talk on the phone & get to know each other really well. 3 hours away from each other is a lot better than 6 hours away like we are! I know this sounds like I am totally planning our future & hopefully I don¡¯t sound like I am assuming anything. I just feel like I can be honest with you, so I thought I would share our conversation. Believe me, I never talk, I mean write like this!

    Subj: Re: Como Estas!

    Date: 6/9/2001 1:15 PM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    I got back from lunch a few minutes before you e-mailed me & I was bummed when I didn¡¯t see an e-mail from you, but sure enough, I got one a few minutes later. I know I can count on you.

    What are your plans for tonight? So far, I don¡¯t have any. I¡¯ll give you a call later, but I¡¯m setting the timer for one hour! I know it¡¯s hard to get off the phone, but I think we¡¯ll actually be able to see each other a lot in the next few months, so it will be okay. God, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m talking about future months with you. I usually go day to day, no plans with anyone. I forgot to thank you earlier for offering to help around my house. I don¡¯t think there is much to do, though, but maybe I can take advantage of you in other ways. :)

    I notice the little things too. Like when you just wrote, ¡°take care of yourself for me.¡± I thought that was the sweetest thing. That made my day!

    We had three to five-hour phone conversations every night after the cruise¡ªlosing track of time with each one we had. Topics ranged from the guilt we felt for having a greasy slice of pizza for lunch to what we wanted to do the next time we were together. She even talked of wanting a committed relationship with me and I couldn¡¯t have been happier. Our nightly chats proved two things: One, she was entirely different from any girl I¡¯ve met before, and two, I felt completely safe sharing my feelings with her. I met Denise in a setting where I was free to be me without reservations, and she was the first girl I met in an entirely different environment¡ªshe wasn¡¯t a coworker. Sharing the same life and career goals with her further inspired me to finish school and to find a more rewarding job. Even though she was clearly more accomplished than I was, she never made me feel any less than her¡ªDenise really believed in me. For her to be so down-to-earth placed her well above it, like a star who wasn¡¯t aware the planets revolved around it and not the other way around. I wished she could introduce me to every single man arrogant enough to never appreciate her, just so I could thank them. Needless to say, I was falling pretty hard for her.

    Subj: Re: Hola!

    Date: 6/14/2001 3:22 PM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hi! Remember when I told you about my friend Cameron who needed a roommate when we were on the cruise? I don¡¯t know why I told you that. I guess to see if you were the jealous type. Well, I talked to Cam at around 5, and he said he was going to church. He said he¡¯d be done by 8 and would come by around then because he wanted to talk about moving in. Plus, he wanted to tell me he finally talked to his ex-girlfriend and wanted to tell me about it. Well of course I can never count on him & of course he didn¡¯t come over. I am really tired of this! I can cut him some slack because he¡¯s not all there right now, but this has been going on for a month. So, he called me at 10 and apologized for not coming, but he ¡°had a lot of crap going on.¡± I didn¡¯t reply back. He¡¯ll probably figure out that I am irritated with him. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll answer if he calls tonight & then I will be gone a week, so he can sit there not knowing what he¡¯s going to do. I talked to his best friend yesterday, and he said his sister is ¡°waiting tables¡± in Tahoe & is moving there & has already given her notice at her apt. complex, so that means he really needs to find some place to live.

    Hey, remember I told you Kathy met that guy Friday night? Well, he seemed really interested in her & they exchanged #¡¯s. He kind of hinted for her to call him, so she called him Monday night & he hasn¡¯t called back. She¡¯s bummed. I don¡¯t know why guys do that?

    Thanks for all your emails, they¡¯re always so sweet.

    Denise¡¯s roommate unexpectedly moved out of the house they rented, putting her in a bind to come up with the other half of the rent. She then offered the house to her friend, Cameron, who badly needed a place to live. His history of heavy drinking and cheating on his girlfriends never gave me pause about the living arrangement being more than that. My only fear resided in the bad timing and anxiousness¡ªwe just met, and I had a year of school left. The second paragraph of Denise¡¯s email, about her friend Kathy, only provided me with more proof of her disdain for the Cameron type. With a potential male roommate being a non-issue, we made plans to see each other in Carlsbad for a night¡ªtwo months after the cruise ended.

    Her company had divisional offices located all over the United States, and she was scheduled to meet with executives in Carlsbad for two days to go over the budget. When she gave me her room number at the Residence Suites and asked me if I would meet her there, I couldn¡¯t say yes quick enough. I remembered all the things she told me about the men in her life before we met. I especially remembered the look on her face the last night of the cruise¡ªthe worry on her face fearing she would never hear from me again. Up to this point, Denise had merely met me, but she had yet to truly meet me. I was on a mission to show her there were still good men in this world, men who knew the difference between sex and intimacy. She deserved to be valued like the remarkable lady she was. Denise had all the qualities of goodness and decency the men she met lacked. I wanted to show her that not only did she deserve better but that she always did. After all we shared, there existed a bond with her I never had with Karyn or Sara. Carlsbad presented an opportunity to show Denise how much I cared for her¡ªto show her I was different, and not just claimed to be. We talked of future days together, and I wanted her to know my eyes were on the same blue sky above us.

    Since I had her room number, I made the two-hour drive down to Carlsbad several hours before her workday ended. After a long, stressful day of work, her night had to be both romantic and relaxing. When I arrived at her hotel, I asked the front desk attendant if they could put the bottle of cabernet I brought, along with two wine glasses and a small CD stereo system, inside her room. I then killed the next three hours at a coffee shop before I went back to her hotel room at the time she asked me to be there. When she answered the door, her eyes widened in unison with her smile, and her lips dove into mine as she sprang into my arms¡ªa nice surprise after two months apart. While I heard Journey¡¯s ¡°Faithfully¡± playing inside her room from the CD player the hotel staff placed there for me, she excitedly bragged about the room¡¯s surprising amenities. When I confessed to the story behind those amenities, she refused to believe me. After a little more convincing, though, she embraced the truth behind my gesture before we both landed on a small, teal leather couch with her hand in mine.

    ¡°Landyn, can I ask you a serious question?¡± She requested, grabbing my hands.

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Why are you always so nice to me?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a serious question?¡± I laughed. ¡°Why am I nice to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said as her grip on my hands softened. ¡°Is there something I need to know about you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you more about myself than you probably ever cared to know!¡± I laughed, lightly tightening my hands on hers. ¡°What would make you think that?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just that¡­¡± She paused, looking down, then back up at me. ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯m not used to it.¡±

    ¡°Who am I to take the heart of a woman for granted?¡± I proposed. ¡°I value you, Denise.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with you?¡±

    Her question prompted me to reflect upon why Karyn chose Sebastian and why Sara chose Semenchski over me¡ªhow could I tell her there was nothing wrong with me?

    ¡°I am by no means perfect,¡± I admitted, as I brought my eyes down to her hands hoping they wouldn¡¯t pull away from mine. ¡°I can understand why you¡¯re not used to this after the men you¡¯ve met before me¡­And I¡¯ll tone it down if it¡¯s too much, but I don¡¯t think you give yourself enough credit. You¡¯re a winning lottery ticket that the guys before me were just too cowardly to cash in. You check off all the boxes, and I just really appreciate who you are. I want to show you there are still some good men out there.¡±

    ¡°Again, I¡¯m just not used to this kindness¡­at all¡ªnot even close,¡± she said. ¡°Could you do me a favor, though?¡±

    ¡°Anything. Name it.¡± I responded, looking intently into her eyes.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t ever change¡ªplease stay the way you are forever.¡±

    I had to digest her words for a few minutes before I spoke again. The ¡°why are you still single¡± question flew at me often whenever I talked with women, but it was a little harder to understand coming from Denise only because I never had sex with the others. Her apprehension never put me on guard though¡ªmen, even her own father, abandoned her. I only saw this as an opportunity to change her luck and life forever; to bring her closer to me. Her past made it difficult for her to trust men, but I should be made to earn her trust, especially considering the distance between us.

    Taking what she said personally was never an issue¡ªI knew I¡¯d eventually win her over. All I had to do was stay true to my belief in love, and there was no way this could go wrong. It would take some time to show her I was for real, but she deserved that from any man who cared about her. Shortly after our discussion, I offered to take her out to dinner, and she agreed. As we walked hand in hand to my car, I did what I usually did for the girls I dated¡ªI opened the door for her. When I took my seat next to her, just before I started the car, I looked over to find her trying to get comfortable in her seat.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to open doors for me.¡±

    ¡°I know I don¡¯t have to,¡± I leaned over to put her seat belt on. ¡°But I want to.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She replied, flatly.

    In my heart and mind, chivalry never died. Her past was just that, and I planned to court her until I resuscitated it back into her heart and mind. The days of her being treated anything less than a lady were over. Na?ve may have been my middle name, but I refused to take her for granted. Opening a car door was my way of thanking her for the honor of taking her to dinner¡ªit was nice not dining alone for once. My feelings for Denise were beyond any I¡¯ve ever felt before. The feelings I had for Sara died ten years prior and I never got the chance to love Karyn, so Denise was the beneficiary of my failures with them. Sara surely would¡¯ve only laughed at my attempts to be a perfect gentleman, but I always yearned to open doors for someone I cared for¡ªto pull their chairs out for them so they could sit before I did, and to stand when they rose. It was fundamental, crucial, and atrial for any budding relationship¡ªanother reason why Sara and I never lasted. The intimacy Denise and I shared breathed life back into me, turning years of loneliness into reason, and I wanted to return the favor. After we had a great dinner, we returned to her room and found ourselves reclaiming the closeness we lost the last two months apart. It happened so fast, I didn¡¯t have time for protection and after the greatest display of trust any two people can show in one another, I brought her lips passionately to mine, my eyes unable to hide all I felt from her.

    ¡°I¡¯m not ready to hear it yet,¡± she confessed with her eyes staring into mine.

    When she sensed the three words I wanted so badly to say, all I could do was gently place her hand upon the middle of my chest and wait for the right words to come to me.

    ¡°Just know it¡¯s there when you¡¯re ready,¡± I told her, hoping she didn¡¯t feel any guilt for not feeling the way I did.

    I couldn¡¯t deny I was crushed, and to hide my feelings from her would not only be wrong and impossible, but to be disheartened by her honesty would go against all nobility. I trusted she was on birth control, she trusted I was STD-free, and earning trust by trusting each other with our lives gave me hope she would soon be ready to hear it. With my heart still hanging on my sleeve, I found comfort knowing she knew how I felt without saying a word.

    Before we left Carlsbad, we made plans for me to stay with her in Citrus Heights for a weekend. Since I was unable to speak with her on the phone the night I came home, I sent her an email the next morning to let her know how much our time in Carlsbad meant to me. She responded just ten minutes later.

    Subj: Re: Hey!

    Date: 7/23/2001 9:53 AM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hi! I had a great time in Carlsbad. I just feel so close to you & am totally comfortable cuddling with you. I think the next 8 days when you come see me at my place will go by quicker than you think. All of your ideas sound great! I love comedy clubs! I like to go out to nice dinners sometimes, but if we¡¯re going to go out afterward, I don¡¯t like to eat big meals. So, don¡¯t go out of your way by trying to find a nice restaurant. I¡¯m sure at some point we¡¯ll end up like my old roommate & her boyfriend & never go anywhere but to dinner, so at that point, we¡¯ll try the nice restaurants. I hope we don¡¯t end up like them, but I can see that at some point, we would be happy just staying at home. Although, I am big on weekend trips. I think there are so many places in California we could go to for the day or one night like Napa, Monterey, Bodega Bay, Pismo Beach, Tahoe, Reno, and San Francisco.

    Okay, I have a challenge for you! You have to prove Kathy wrong. She came over here & asked me if I saw you & if we had fun. I told her how sweet you were. She told me to appreciate it now because it won¡¯t last forever. She keeps telling me how her boyfriend used to be really sweet & now he¡¯s not anymore & it¡¯s only been 8 months. Something tells me you¡¯re different, though. Please be nice as you are now and just stay that way forever!

    After Carlsbad, eight days seemed like an eternity away. A one-night excursion anywhere with Denise had me fantasizing about all the places she wanted to experience together. I even saw pictures adorning the walls of our home, capturing the memories of each trip. I waited thirty years for this and had even bigger trips in mind for us. Being a hopeless romantic, I also had a spontaneous Friday-night flight to New York City in mind for us at some point. I just always dreamt of one day having the chance to sweep a woman off her feet, to bond so deeply with her that it made her friends envy the relationship she had. I could only laugh at her challenge¡ªher friend clearly had no idea how much I cared about Denise. If the challenge was to make Denise happy, I had plans to exceed what they have all come to expect from the type of men who never dreamt of the chance to love someone like I did.

    Subj: Re: Hey!

    Date: 7/29/2001 11:23 AM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hi! Long night. I was so tired, I slept through my alarm! Cameron was there when I got home. I think he¡¯s really changing. He¡¯s been a good friend for a while, but he was kind of flakey & a cheat. After his girlfriend booted him out, he looked at his life & realized he didn¡¯t like who he was. He has cut back on partying & has been going to the gym, reading self-help books, and going to church. I couldn¡¯t believe the way he was talking last night. I asked him what happened to the old Cameron? He even walked me inside & waited while I checked all my closets to make sure nobody was there. I think the roommate thing might work out. Don¡¯t even be jealous though¡ªhe¡¯s just a friend & he¡¯s not my type. I could never trust him after I saw him cheat on his girlfriend so many times. We really didn¡¯t talk about him moving in last night because I was so tired but I told him we should talk this weekend because if he¡¯s going to, he should move in before Tuesday because I¡¯ll be out of town on business most of the week. Talk to you later!

    Denise had to push back my visit for a week because her company had a quarterly financial review filing due. She worked for a public company, and because the S.E.C. had strict filing deadlines, she had to work long hours near each quarter-end. Compared to being apart for two months though, the fifteen days went by quickly. The 5 Freeway was backed up for miles for a three-hour stretch on my way to spend the weekend with her in Citrus Heights. The temperature was ninety-five degrees at seven in the evening, and the heat only absorbed the stench of cow manure that surrounded the area. I left Denise a message to let her know I was running behind. She called me back, an hour later, to tell me she would leave the door open and to just walk in. After an eight-hour drive, and two hours later than I promised, I finally made it to her house.

    Under a moonless sky, I made my way to her porch, opened the front door, and was greeted by total darkness. After I quietly closed the door behind me, I took small steps forward with my hands extended out, feeling my way through the unfamiliar surroundings. I felt a chair and made my way around what had to be a dining room table. With each step I took, the wooden floor creaked loudly enough that it probably awakened her if she was sleeping. With my hands now on a wall, I came upon an opening, and when I turned to enter it, a small light in a room on the left faintly illuminated the hallway I now made my way through. When I reached the first open door and walked inside, I saw Denise¡¯s naked, curvy body lying face-down on top of bed sheets that slightly fluttered as a two-foot floor fan in the corner softly blew life into them. I removed all my clothing and quietly took my place next to her upon the queen-sized bed. I then brought my lips gently upon her neck and kissed her.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she mumbled groggily.

    ¡°I am sooo sorry I¡¯m late¡ªthe traffic was really bad.¡± I whispered, gently stroking her hair. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not feeling well. I think I drank too much earlier,¡± she replied, her voice muffled by her pillow.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I kissed her again. ¡°Do you need anything? A glass of water maybe? You¡¯re probably dehydrated.¡±

    ¡°I just wanna go to sleep.¡± She mumbled, as she turned her backside to me.

    ¡°Alright, Sweetheart.¡± Sliding my hand gently along her shoulder and side. ¡°If you need anything, just let me know¡ªI¡¯m right here.¡±

    During the long drive, I fantasized about making love to her to help me get through it, but her well-being concerned me more than my libido. Staring up into the bedroom¡¯s shadowy ceiling, a smile then broke upon my face when I realized for the first time in my life, I was where I should be¡ªnext to her. After thirty years of heartache and loneliness, I suddenly understood the treacherous journey to find where my heart resides, and it was all worth it. When I awoke to Denise¡¯s head lying upon my chest the next morning, a huge grin broke upon my face¡ªI was home. With her eyes still closed, she ran a hand that slowly explored my body¡¯s southern region as the morning¡¯s promise shone through the window. Her touch fueled a craving for her I¡¯ve carried the minute I walked inside her room nine hours earlier. We then consummated our longing as if it was the first night we spent together on the cruise. After we caught our breath from our forty-minute session, we showered together then went to breakfast. During our quiet brunch, she asked me if I wanted to go to the movies.

    ¡°Is there any movie you¡¯d like to see?¡± I asked then taking a bite of my pancake. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s out.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­How about the new Jay and Silent Bob movie?¡± She suggested, before putting a small piece of cantaloupe in her mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m open¡ªI¡¯ll see anything you want to. Are you sure you want to see that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s called ¡°Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back.¡± I heard it¡¯s a lot like ¡°Clerks¡±.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right¡ªJay and Silent Bob are those two stoners who hang out in front of the store all the time,¡± I recalled while covering my mouth with a napkin as I spoke. ¡°They¡¯re pretty funny¡ªLet¡¯s see that.¡±

    It seemed like Denise still wasn¡¯t feeling well¡ªshe only had a bowl of fruit and hardly spoke at all. I think it worried her after I drove all the way up there that if she wasn¡¯t feeling well, or well enough to be affectionate, that I¡¯d be mad at her for it. Or even worse¡ªuse it as a reason if I ever got tired of visiting and wanted to end our relationship. Her fear, although rational with the types of men she¡¯s been out with before, was irrational with me. Of course, I wanted to make love to her, but it wasn¡¯t the only reason I drove up to see her¡ªI just wanted to be with my girlfriend, to be able to see her dimples when she smiled and to be able to hold her.

    When we arrived at the theater, we decided against having a bucket of popcorn or soft drinks¡ªtoo full from brunch. When she sat down next to me, she put her hand in mine and smiled at me. I then brought my lips to hers in the fairly empty theater. Since the movie we chose was a comedy, I looked forward to seeing those cute cheek impressions of hers several more times. I envisioned us both laughing at the same parts and walking out of the theater more connected than ever. I daydreamed about leaving the theater and having to hurry back to her place because we were so hot for each other. There were several scenes in the movie that most of the people in the theater found hilarious. I probably laughed harder than anyone in the theater just for the simple fact I was in a euphoric state being with Denise. Not one single time, though, did she laugh during the movie¡ªshe never even broke a smile. After a few laughs, I felt self-conscious and held back my laughter for the remainder of the movie, afraid I was enjoying it too much when she wasn¡¯t feeling well. When the movie was over and we were back at her house, a far cry from my dream scenario, I wanted to make good on a promise¡ªto show her I wasn¡¯t like the other men she met.

    ¡°Hey, do you need any light bulbs replaced, or is there anything else I can do for you?¡± I asked, after shutting the door behind us, now inside her home.

    ¡°Oh, no¡­ I don¡¯t need anything done, but thanks.¡± She replied, stopping at her dining table to set her purse down.

    ¡°Would you like me to wash your car?¡± I asked, rubbing her back. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to wash and wax it for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, but again, I don¡¯t need anything done,¡± she said, moving away from my touch. ¡°Did you want to study at all? You have a test on Monday, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess I can do that,¡± Dropping my eyes to the floor, I was shaken by her response, fearing I did something wrong but too afraid to ask. ¡°I did bring my textbook.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ I¡¯m just gonna go lie down for a little bit.¡± She then abruptly walked away into the hallway, veered right into her room and disappeared from my sight.

    ¡°Hope you feel better.¡± I said, followed only by the sound of a door closing.

    As I walked out to grab my Intermediate Accounting textbook from the backseat of my car, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if I had said or done something wrong. By the time I was back inside her house, I had convinced myself that she was upset with me for something. I then pulled up a chair at her dining room table, sat down and opened my textbook up to the chapter I needed to read. An hour later, my eyes remained on the same page, only able to concentrate on how I may have afflicted Denise. Realizing this was probably just residual emotional baggage from my experience with Karyn and that Denise just wasn¡¯t feeling well, I was able to get my mind on the right track. At about five that evening, two hours after she fled from me to nap, she emerged from her room.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± I cautiously asked.

    ¡°A little better,¡± She said as she took a seat next to me at the dining room table. ¡°Did you get any studying done?¡±

    ¡°I did. I think I¡¯m ready for this test on Monday,¡± I lied.

    ¡°Would you like to have dinner in downtown Sacramento tonight?¡± She asked.

    ¡°That sounds great!¡± I agreed, feeling renewed. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re feeling up to it? I can go grab us something if you want.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no¡­ I want to take you to this steakhouse in downtown Sac,¡± she insisted. ¡°Why don¡¯t you use the bathroom first? I take a little longer to get ready.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Breathing a hidden sigh of relief.

    After taking a quick shower, fifteen minutes later I ceded the bathroom to Denise. When she emerged an hour later, I could¡¯ve sworn she had a personal stylist in the bathroom¡ªshe had never looked prettier. Her long hair dangled just past her shoulders, housing her perfectly round face, with her dark roots and highlights glorifying her silver hoop earrings. She wore a thin, white-sleeved shirt with short, blue jean shorts and open-toed heels, showing off both her breasts and legs like I¡¯ve never seen before. While walking out together, but before reaching the car, I found myself doing something the guys she dated before me likely never did.

    ¡°You look absolutely stunning tonight,¡± I complimented while opening the car door for her.

    She smiled wryly and nodded before she got inside, leaving me to believe she found my compliment to be insincere. I then drove us to a steakhouse called Porter¡¯s about a half-hour away. After I parked the car, Denise jumped out of her seat before I could grab the door for her.

    When I followed her inside, her hand unusually outside of mine, we were quickly met and seated by the young hostess. When she brought us to our table, I waited for Denise to take her seat before I did; instead, she glared at me, refusing to sit. Five uncomfortable seconds later, she sat while shaking her head in what I perceived to be disbelief and even disgust. Afraid to ruin our dinner, I fought back the urge to apologize for my gesture if it made her feel uncomfortable. I then ordered us each a glass of cabernet to reignite memories of the cruise, hoping to loosen her up romantically. When our chiseled jaw youthful waiter came over to take our food order, she perked up and initiated a conversation with him about the items on the menu. Hearing the sudden life in her voice, and seeing the dimples on her cheeks, made me feel relieved she felt better¡ªthat maybe all she needed was a little food. After we ordered, I felt confident I have gained back the Denise I knew and loved.

    ¡°Wow. Our waiter is really good-looking,¡± she gushed, just before she took another sip from her wine glass.

    Her words must have caught me completely by the throat because I suddenly lost my ability to speak. I could feel my heart pound inside my chest wanting to break through¡ªpetrified to know she felt that way about another man¡ªafter all she shared with the one sitting directly across from her. I looked down on my black long-sleeved shirt, checking it for any traces of lint. I then brought my hand to the back of my neck, making sure the collar on my shirt wasn¡¯t pulled upward. I wanted to run to the bathroom to check my hair and face but feared she would pick up on my indifference. Her attraction to the waiter caused a surge of nervous jealousy I never felt before with anyone. I then took a sip of my wine and tried to think of something quick to say, afraid she would suspect something was wrong.

    ¡°How are you feeling? Would you be up for doin¡¯ something after dinner?¡± I asked, trying to keep it together.

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe go dancing?¡± I shrugged. ¡°We can check out Marilyn¡¯s¡ªthat bar you told me about on the cruise.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not up for goin¡¯ anywhere¡ªI¡¯m still not feelin¡¯ well. I just wanna go home after dinner,¡± she replied, taking another sip from her glass, her eyes straying away from mine.

    The waiter¡¯s presence with our food only gave her a reason to flirt with him in front of me, but I played along with their banter to avoid looking like the jealous type to her. When her loud silence made another impromptu appearance after he dropped off our food, my mind replayed all my failed relationship experiences on a loop while I tried to put away a juicy filet mignon on an uneasy stomach. She perked up yet again when he dropped off the bill, and when he asked if I wanted a doggy bag for the road, I respectfully declined. As I brought out my credit card to pay the bill, she quickly rose from her chair and told me she would meet me outside¡ªit seemed she didn¡¯t want to be seen leaving with me, but alone. After I paid the bill, I tussled with the prospect of starting a conversation with her¡ªone she gave me no choice but to have. When I met her outside and we approached the car, I took a quick step ahead of her to get the door before she did¡ªa sure-fire way to find out the reason for her coldness in the heat of summer.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± she snapped. ¡°Why do you always feel you have to open a door for me?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just who¡­it¡¯s just who I am,¡± I replied, stumbling with my words while flinging the door open so she couldn¡¯t say no. I couldn¡¯t even look at her, afraid of what I would feel. ¡°Please.¡±

    She then rolled her eyes before halfheartedly climbing inside. When I closed the door, I dreaded the awkward silence that awaited me. After I got inside the car then started the ignition, I turned to smile at her only to see her seat belt was already on with her eyes fixated on what lay beyond the windshield¡ªperhaps what she left behind in the restaurant. During the silent drive back to her place, my unfamiliarity with the streets of downtown Sacramento caused me to miss the onramp back to Citrus Heights.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you do that?¡± She asked incredulously. ¡°You should¡¯ve made the right back there!¡±

    ¡°Oh boy¡­You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll make a U-turn at the next light and go around again.¡±

    ¡°Is this your car?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ It¡¯s a rental.¡±

    ¡°A rental? Why¡¯d you rent a car? Why didn¡¯t you just drive your own car up here?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to drive you around in something nicer than my Honda Civic,¡± I smiled.

    ¡°Ugh¡­It¡¯s such a waste of money,¡± she said as she folded her arms across her chest.

    ¡°It¡¯s not every day I get to spend time with you,¡± I soothed. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to think I¡¯m cheap.¡±

    ¡°Why would you spend money on a rental though?¡± She asked. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. I need someone who can take care of me.¡±

    ¡°I know I¡¯m a little on the short side, but I can hold my own and protect you if I ever needed to..." I claimed, trying to placate her. "if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡± She retorted while giving me another eye roll and a head shake.

    When I pulled into her driveway, I resigned trying to open her door¡ªshe jumped out before I even came to a stop. I took a deep breath before I left the ¡°rental,¡± not knowing if she wanted me to come inside with her. I bravely exited, then sped up my pace to avoid her shutting the door on me. The sting of her comments exacted their toll in my head and my heart. I believed what I felt for Denise was love, so I remained quiet in consideration of her past. The truth was, the men in her life were so unkind, she could not recognize a man she should trust. In her mind, they all carried hidden agendas¡ªmore so the ones she gave her complete self to. It was easier for her to find someone else to like, so she couldn¡¯t be hurt by the man she did like¡ªespecially a man that lived far enough away not to be trusted.

    No matter how cold she was to me, I had to remember her warmth and try not to take it personally. Every man who ever stepped foot into her life, a boyfriend of eight years and even her own father, discounted her feelings and then abandoned her. After she left them fulfilled, they left her behind¡ªempty and dead inside. Now, suddenly another man comes into her life, a ¡°nice¡± guy she told him she wanted. It puts her on guard so much that she¡¯s unable to believe he¡¯s for real. Even a man she was intimate with, who calls her back, spends hours on the phone with her just listening, emails her the first thing in the morning, drives hours to spend time with her, opens doors for her, and never allows her to pay for anything. In her mind, there¡¯s only one kind of man who would do all those things for her¡ªan abnormal man, a bona fide psychopath. A stalker she should¡¯ve seen coming from the very start¡­The kind of guy you ditch for a lowly waiter at a steakhouse.

    This was my new reality with Denise, and I didn¡¯t know if or how I could change her mind. I didn¡¯t know if my low self-esteem would be able to stomach the further judgment she planned to pass down upon me¡ªmy crime for being the ¡°nice¡± guy she wanted. The toughest part about it all? She had no idea how much my own past heartbreaks led me to feel the same way she did. How much I believed in a love that lasted forever and how each time I gave myself to someone, it was never enough for them. Because of that, she had no idea I was the one man on this Earth who would never abandon her. The one man who had been nothing but honest with her from day one about who he was. The one man she would one day say, ¡°I love you¡± to, and be glad she did. Her love was something I was willing to earn, even if I had to walk with her through hell. All she had to do was be brave enough to take my hand¡­She already had my heart.

    When she allowed me inside her home and even to climb into bed with her, I was determined to move forward and to put our dinner behind me. Ten minutes after we rekindled our fire, however, her coldness reappeared to extinguish it.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She shouted, separating herself from my embrace and quickly scooting herself away, frightened. Reaching out to her nightstand, she turned on the lamplight.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I said, jumping out of her bed, fearing it was a bug, a mouse, or even a snake.

    ¡°What¡¯s that on your leg!¡± She squawked, pointing at my right leg.

    When I realized she aimed her finger at the small bone that protruded slightly from my knee, I felt relieved. Even though I confidently said earlier I could take care of her and protect her, I was no Ace Ventura.

    ¡°Oh, that? I was born with a couple of extra bones on my knee¡­See here?¡± I explained, then showed her the barely visible six-inch scar on my other leg. ¡°I had the same thing on this knee but had an operation to have it removed when I was in the tenth grade. It¡¯s a congenital condition called Osteochondroma¡­it¡¯s actually not uncommon, if you wanted to look it up. It¡¯s not contagious or anything like that. In fact, I think it skips a generation¡­ It just didn¡¯t skip me, unfortunately. I guess you can say it¡¯s just a little more of me, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°How come you never told me about it?¡± Asking with an accusatory tone.

    ¡°Honestly, I thought you¡¯ve felt it before during the times we¡¯ve slept together, and it wasn¡¯t an issue,¡± Defending myself nervously. ¡°Since it was never an issue with my ex or with any of the other girls I¡¯ve dated, I didn¡¯t think anything of it. I never purposely hid it from you¡ªif I feared it might turn you off, I would¡¯ve never slept with you. It¡¯s truly nothing, Denise.¡±

    As she sat before me with disgust on her face, accusing me of a crime I didn¡¯t commit, my heart could never afford the risk of telling her how the way she reacted made me feel. The only person who ever truly gave me confidence in this life now threatened to take my perpetually ravaged self-esteem to its lowest level yet. Even as she tore me down like an old house with a haunted past, I remembered the place where her judgments fell from and began to worry about her feelings more than my own.

    I then recalled all we shared on the cruise, the heartfelt sadness and fear she experienced when our time together neared its end. There was excitement in her voice when we talked of a future together over all the hours spent on the phone; all the plans she made for us. This all added up to a test¡ªa trial to see if I was for real¡ªan examination to see if I was anything like the men who left her when she needed them the most. If I broke, she had her confirmation: I was no different from the traitors of her heart. This girl, who punished me for the crimes others committed, was not the real Denise but rather an imposter created to draw out the counterfeit Landyn, an emotional blackmailer who only existed in her damaged mind and heart. I could pull out all the chairs beneath her and open up every door in front of her, but she needed more than just a gentleman. She needed a man of the highest caliber, a man who could turn the other cheek until she was well again. For the rest of my visit, even after she turned off the light and stormed out of her bedroom, leaving me there alone like a snake in her bed, I put my hurt feelings aside and focused solely on hers. For the next hour, with my eyes to the ceiling, I held hope she would return¡ªthen faded away into the night when she never did.

    When the Sunday morning sun rose at six, I left her bedroom and found her sleeping on a sectional couch in the living room. Afraid to wake her, I began to quietly walk away before I heard a voice asking, ¡°Can I make you breakfast?¡±. Although she never apologized, I accepted her peace offering as an apology. I felt bad for sleeping in her bed anyway¡ªI would¡¯ve taken the couch if she wanted me to, but I thought she might come back to bed. She was surprisingly amicable for the rest of the day¡ªwe even slept together during the afternoon, making up for the lost night. When the time came for me to leave that evening, Denise struggled to let me go¡ªeven telling me she didn¡¯t want me to. When she told me ¡°I¡¯ll miss you¡± for the first time, it seemed she changed her mind about me, and the waiter was just an escape hatch. My effort to focus on her hurt feelings more than my own paid off to put us back on track, and I couldn¡¯t have been more relieved after a visit that couldn¡¯t have gone more wrong. On the drive home, I fantasized about our planned trips to Tahoe, Monterrey, and San Francisco together and put my first one to Citrus Heights behind me. When I thought of all the great things we could experience with each other, I realized one important truth¡ªnothing in life worth having was ever easy. Every love story that ever mattered had obstacles before its triumph, and an endearing quality all its own. If you didn¡¯t have to earn someone¡¯s heart, something was wrong. How else will you appreciate it and be willing to fight to never lose it? Sometimes, you had to kill a part of yourself, an agonizing discomfort, to become the person capable of loving the one you took a chance on. If I had to go through the darkest hell just to hear the words ¡°I love you, too¡± from the only star I wanted in my sky, it would all be worth it. I left her place that day feeling certain I would hear those words very soon.

    It was nearly one in the morning by the time I got home, and I didn¡¯t want to wake her, so I sent Denise an email to let her know I made it home safely before I went to bed. She responded to my morning email later that afternoon.

    Subj: <none>

    Date: 9/03/2001 2:31 PM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hey. Thanks for the email. I¡¯m kind of in a bad mood or something today. I have no idea why. I just feel depressed for some reason. This happens to me once in a while, & it drives me crazy because I have absolutely no reason to be depressed. In fact, I should probably be happier than I¡¯ve ever been. Anyway, I have a lot of work to do today and I really need to focus.

    Talk to you later!

    Her email broke my heart¡ªI couldn¡¯t hold her like I held Karyn the day she showed me the bruise on her face. I called her when I got home after my test, and after an hour of conversation, she seemed to be in much better spirits¡ªeven told me she missed me again. When I hung up the phone, I could do nothing but smile¡ªmy life was finally going the way I always dreamt it would.

    Eight days later, at approximately six-thirty in the morning, the frantic voice of a newswoman blaring from my clock radio alarm woke me up. I couldn¡¯t make sense of her rambling and even hit the snooze button to fall back asleep¡ªhopefully, to be reawakened by the usual music I was accustomed to. When my alarm went off, and her voice jarred me for a second time, my mind couldn¡¯t turn off the hysteria she described¡ªa jetliner had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City.

    I then groggily extricated myself from under the covers of my bed and stumbled into my living room like a drunk, lazily searching for the remote to turn on my state of the art twenty-five-inch flat-screen television. When all I could see was debris falling from the burning skyscraper, I almost turned it off to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep before work. When I heard this debris was actually people who jumped because they felt it was the better alternative than being burned alive, I was too upset to sneak in a few extra minutes of shut eye. Glued to the set, I watched in shock as a symbol of American financial strength and ingenuity crashed, from seemingly invincible heights, down to Earth. The second those two great towers fell, ending all those innocent lives while claiming the innocence of every single American citizen, the world would never feel the same way to me again. Little did I realize, however, that the defining moment of the new millennium was just a harbinger of things to come for me when I arrived to work that morning.

    Subj: <none>

    Date: 9/11/2001 10:03 AM Pacific Daylight Time

    From: [email protected]</a>

    To: [email protected]</a>

    Hi. Depressing day. I can¡¯t believe what¡¯s happening in New York.

    As you know, Cameron moved in last week. It¡¯s been working out great so far, even better than I expected. He¡¯s not the same person. He¡¯s a completely changed man. I know this will be hard for you to read, but Cam and I, we¡¯ve decided to start dating each other. I can¡¯t explain it, but it¡¯s something that just happened over the last few days, something that must have been there all along.

    I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea that we remain friends. I know that it will be hard for you, but it¡¯s for the best. I think you should take this as a positive learning experience. I¡¯m sure one day you will meet someone. I would¡¯ve never given Cam a chance if it wasn¡¯t for you. Thank you for raising my standards.

    Goodbye.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 15 ~ BENT STEEL

    ¡°I raised her standards,¡± I revisited, subdued by its sting. ¡°I raised her standards just so she could meet someone else.¡±

    Culver laughed maniacally at my assessment, finding deep pleasure in it. As he glared at me, in his moment of triumph, while Paige writhed underneath his talon like hooves, a long-lost memory came into existence. Culver¡¯s countenance resembled one of a man I knew, not in the last life, but a previous one. The only thing missing was the top black hat he wore back when it was fashionable to do so. Once I started to picture his face, Culver¡¯s began to change¡ªbelieving his past was one completely forgotten, especially by a soul who had a lifetime to forget. I didn¡¯t know if there was something beautiful in this memory, something that could set me and Paige free, or something more terrifying than I ever wanted to know or face.

    When the Beast looked over at Culver, taking his eyes off his meal, something had rattled them both and awakened me to a fact in the afterlife¡ªthoughts and the truth ruled. The beast began to roar in distress, and Culver had to calm it down before it struck out at him, giving a chance for Paige to get some needed relief from the weight of his hooves. This was why Paige wanted me to tell my story¡ªit would bring my thoughts where they needed to go in order to right a great wrong, or, to save us from eternal damnation. Either way, these embodiments of pure evil were a little less powerful than they were before my story was known. In order to bring my memory of who Culver was into focus, I knew I had to continue with the current time line, and hopefully by its end, make sense of everything else. Once the beast put its focus back on me, bringing the stinger of its tail right to the tip of my face, I began to recount a time I didn¡¯t know I had the strength or courage to relive again¡ªmy allure to steel.

    In all of its faded marine green colored glory, the Vincent Thomas stood 185 feet above the port of Los Angeles¡ªa 6,060 foot long suspension bridge that reached 365 feet at its highest point. Below this seaside steel conduit was putrid, shallow water at some points and unforgiving 10-ton steel containers at others. I had a clear view of this local landmark from my parent¡¯s house, and other than knowing the bridge provided the shortest distance between my home and college, it was always nothing more than an eyesore to me. After Denise left me, though, I started to see this dull-colored monstrosity in a way I could¡¯ve never possibly imagined as it morphed into a refuge for my hopeless thoughts. Each time I drove over the bridge, I no longer focused on its picturesque sunsets but rather how its maintenance workers were able to reach its highest points. I even studied the several suicide attempts that appeared in the local paper, chiefly noting those that bore failure. After a month of satiating my depressive curiosity, I knew exactly how and what time would work best for a successful jump. Each time I drove under its tallest point, I imagined how it would feel to be at the very top and what the artist of the sky would paint for me that day.

    In a span of over eight months, I sent Denise at least ten emails, hoping she would leave the door open in case Cameron¡¯s true character shone through. Begging her to reconsider, I apologized for anything I may have done wrong. Each time I sent off an email, every following second felt like an hour¡ªhoping she felt something, even just a little compassion to respond to me, but she never did. In fact, I never heard from Denise again. After she discarded me, I felt truly defeated. I then started to lose focus on all I ever set out to accomplish for myself. I looked back at all the things she said to me, a person I¡¯ve never been closer to, and was constantly reminded of how my disabled belief in love blinded me to all the signs. I recalled the time she told me, ¡°I need someone to take care of me¡± and how I completely misread it even after my experience with Karyn, who chose a man for his financial capabilities over me. How I forgot about all those times I used to hike up my socks to hide the bone on my left knee, while overlooking I still had another bone on my right one. How I ignored her silence at the movies during a comedy we saw that kept me laughing throughout. How she left me alone in her bed while she slept outside in the living room instead. How she flirted with the waiter right in front of me during a dinner I paid for, and admitting her attraction for him even while knowing how much I felt for her. How she snapped at me for missing a simple turn at night in a city I¡¯ve never driven in before without the benefit of a single doubt. And how I missed the greatest sign of all¡ªwhen she told me, ¡°I¡¯m not ready to hear it yet¡± while I was ready to announce it to the world.

    After my experiences with Karyn and Denise, I started to believe all women truly cared about was being taken care of financially. To have a man take care of them emotionally was a bonus, but without financial support, it was worthless to them. Being taken care of monetarily should be important to women. It¡¯s imperative for a man to be able to provide a stable environment for his wife, family, and his children. I know it matters. It should matter¡­but at the expense of a man¡¯s character and integrity? It rattled my entire belief system that Denise could actually choose a man with demonstrated character flaws, one who repeatedly cheated on his last girlfriend, over a man who would be loyal to her even in his dreams. Without a doubt if I had the means to take care of her financially, she would¡¯ve never dated Cameron, but I was honest with her about my financial situation from the beginning. She knew I had a year left in school, and I was working as a staff accountant. If ¡°being taken care of¡± financially was her ¡°be all end all,¡± then just tell me that matters more than having a ¡°nice¡± guy. Instead, she made me feel like the bad guy in the relationship¡ªeven criticizing me for being a gentleman just so I would do her dirty work. In all fairness, maybe it was unfair for me to be upset about her decision because of the distance and how physically unavailable I was. Then again, how could she discount all we shared together? Why bother getting close to me, enough to make future plans, and then hit me with ¡®I need a man to take care of me¡¯? I simply believed she understood my situation and respected me enough to not pass judgment on me¡ªespecially for something I was honest with her about that was temporary.

    All the things she ever confided in me that revealed her fear of abandonment, constantly replayed in my mind as if on a loop. It wasn¡¯t so much that she didn¡¯t love me that was crushing, but why she didn¡¯t. I accepted her imperfections, yet she never accepted mine. She had every right to dump me if she didn¡¯t feel the same and respected her right to do that, but did she have to make me feel so terrible about myself? How could she be so disrespectful after all the respect I gave her? I was simply punished for what other men did to her, and that was hard for me to get past after Karyn essentially did the same thing. I had the power to change my financial situation, and I knew it would get better after I graduated, but I had to drill deeper inside myself¡ªto a place I was afraid to go but had to reach. I had to go through a merciless, unforgiving entity inside myself to get there. The darkest of tormentors who seized my mind to use it against me: She didn¡¯t love you because you have nothing to offer. You¡¯re a loser. No matter how well you love someone, that will never change. Your character and loyalty can¡¯t pay anyone¡¯s bills. It¡¯s not about how hard you work or your accomplishments. Love doesn¡¯t love you. God doesn¡¯t even love you, and He loves everyone. You are unlovable, don¡¯t you know that? Your father doesn¡¯t even love you¡ªyou were a mistake, remember? You were cursed from the womb. How could you have possibly believed in love when your entire existence is one big lie? You can dream all you want¡ªthat¡¯s all you have now. Go to sleep and dream. Dream until they all turn into me¡­to the darkest black.

    Through Denise, I learned my mind was a torture device as final as the guillotine¡ªmy heart¡¯s own cross. Believing in nothing but the allure of a bridge I drove over to get to school and back. It wasn¡¯t solely my relationship with Denise that brought me to this level of hopelessness, but rather a culmination of all my relationships. With Sara, even though to a much lesser degree, I thought she loved me romantically enough to at least wait for me to come around. Instead, she dated almost immediately and even gave her complete self to him almost as quickly¡ªa part of herself she never gave to me. With Karyn, even though we never dated, I felt betrayed when she chose the successful COO over the lowly accountant who truly cared for her. Then there was Denise, who chose a known cheater over me because he could take care of her financially¡ªafter she told me she wanted a nice guy.

    All my life, I¡¯ve been the ¡°nice guy,¡± but all they chose to see in me was the bad, even finding me too good to be true. It didn¡¯t matter if I had character. It didn¡¯t matter if I treated them right and if I could be a good father or husband. All I could see that mattered was the size of my wallet or how far I stood off the ground. Based on my three experiences, I came to the conclusion that true love was dead for me. I was living in a loveless society, and it was pure insanity to keep believing in something that simply didn¡¯t exist for me. At only thirty-one years old, I felt more like a senile eighty-year-old man, diseased in mind and broken in spirit. I¡¯m not saying love wasn¡¯t out there for others. It just didn¡¯t exist for the person who believed in it as much as I did, so why continue believing in love when no one else truly did?

    During this time, after I lost the only thing that gave me hope the world was fair, I fought with everyone¡­even myself. For thirty-one years, I¡¯ve had nothing but big dreams, but as it suddenly stood, I¡¯d surely be remembered for nothing if I died. It felt like I attended a party I wasn¡¯t invited to, and merely being there ruined it for everyone. Like being abandoned on a sinking ship whose only destiny lay at the bottom of the sea¡ªwhile everyone else made it safely to land. I was reduced to a mere cell of who I thought I would be¡ªmy mind tearing my hopes and dreams away from me. I always pictured myself happily married with a kid or two at this point in life, not betrothed to such loneliness after a lifetime of it. All I ever wanted was to love and be loved. If that didn¡¯t exist for me, then I had no purpose here anymore.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I tried to hide the pain I felt inside from everyone, especially my mother. She would only worry about me, and she had enough on her plate already. One afternoon, we decided to meet for lunch at the indoor shopping mall close to my work. Since a free lunch was rare, I took her up on the offer. When I arrived at the food court to meet her, I spotted her already seated at one of the tables.

    ¡°Over here, Honey!¡± She announced while waving her arms at me with a vibrant smile on her face. ¡°Thanks for meeting me! You look nice today.¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­of course,¡± I said, standing in front of the seat across from her while she dug her black plastic fork into a large salad.

    ¡°How do you like my hair?¡± She asked, her lips moving behind a napkin.

    ¡°Did you do somethin¡¯ to it?¡± Giving her the same response I always did.

    ¡°I just had it permed,¡± she exclaimed, lifting her head proudly.

    ¡°It always looks the same to me,¡± I replied without offering the compliment she should¡¯ve received.

    ¡°Oh, well,¡± answering in a dejected tone as she reached inside her purse. ¡°Honey, please go get something to eat. Here¡¯s twenty dollars.¡±

    ¡°You know what, mom¡­no thanks. I¡¯m not really hungry at all. It¡¯s good you¡¯re eatin¡¯ a salad, though,¡± Taking notice she¡¯d put on at least twenty pounds.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± She asked as her hands rested inside her purse.

    ¡°Nothin¡¯s wrong,¡± I shook my head, annoyed. ¡°What makes you think somethin¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­when I saw you walking over, I noticed you had your head down. Your eyes were on the ground the entire time before you saw me,¡± she explained. ¡°Is everything fine with work?¡±

    ¡°Everythin¡¯s fine,¡± I snapped. ¡°I¡¯m just tired. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Is something else bothering you?¡± She prodded with a worried tone, putting her purse aside.

    I just shook my head, took the empty seat across from her, and folded my arms.

    ¡°Well, just remember to put whatever¡¯s troubling you in God¡¯s hands. Say a prayer and talk to him¡­that¡¯s what I do when I get down,¡± she offered. ¡°He always knows what¡¯s best for us and will never give us more than we can handle. Everything happens for¡ª¡±

    I cut her off angrily. ¡°Everything happens for a reason. Will you just stop it¡­okay? I¡¯m not placing anything in God¡¯s hands. I¡¯ve already told you I don¡¯t believe in God.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because he can¡¯t make himself known to you if you never talk to Him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have conversations with things that don¡¯t exist,¡± I bit out, trying to keep my voice down. ¡°Who do you think I am? A four-year-old who talks to imaginary friends?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, Honey¡­¡±

    ¡°It sure doesn¡¯t seem like it. By the way, if God can oversee everything, then I should never have to talk to him¡ªhe should already know what¡¯s going on, so just¡­stop it with the God crap!" I snapped, trying my best to keep my voice down. "I¡¯m so sick of IT¡ªhe doesn¡¯t exist! God is Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the fuckin¡¯ Tooth Fairy all rolled up into one extravagant fairy tale. I don¡¯t need any more falsehoods or lies in my life¡ªI have reality to worry about. And if God did exist, I¡¯d have more respect for him if he just removed me from this Earth. He could have this life back at any time. I don¡¯t want it, and I don¡¯t need it.¡±

    I¡¯ll never forget the look on my mother¡¯s face just before she bowed her head at the table in subdued silence. She slowly made the sign of the cross and returned the twenty dollars to its place inside her purse. She then apologized and quietly continued to eat her salad¡ªa meal she never finished. After Denise broke my heart and spirit, I reached the breaking point with my mother¡¯s preaching, as her reasons for everything could no longer be reasoned. I was sick of talking about things that didn¡¯t exist, like God and love. Those things existed for other people, just not for me. Even if God had a Hubble telescope, he¡¯d still be unable to see me.

    Until my mother brought it to my attention, I had no idea how deeply depressed I was. I became so disenchanted with this loveless society that I couldn¡¯t bear to take in the world around me. As I boiled inside my own cauldron of self-hate, I would learn a week later the reason behind my mother¡¯s invitation for lunch¡ªher cancer had metastasized. Instead of chemotherapy, the doctors opted to use an experimental drug called Femara. She would be on it for the rest of her life and with an unknown prognosis. On the day of my anti-God rant, all my mother wanted was a little time to get out of the house to better deal with another frightening obstacle in her life. I stole her serenity with my selfishness¡ªa peace she rightfully deserved. As much as my heart ached over losing Denise, my mother would¡¯ve traded places with me in a heartbeat¡­yet she never said a single word about the inequities of our plights even as I tore down a world that meant everything to her¡ªthe reason for her survival. If God existed, I could find understanding in His position to punish me for my lack of faith, but I could never comprehend punishing my mother, who trusted Him more than anything. When I learned her life became much more difficult, I really began to rebel against God, turning from agnostic to atheist¡ªno longer a witness to life¡¯s greatest lie: Love. It existed for other people or in other dimensions, but not for me here on Earth. I then aligned my disbelief in love with my disbelief in God and refused all further discussions about Him with my mother¡­until I had no choice but to bring the subject up again.

    For the next two years after Denise¡¯s departure, I sulked into a miserable existence¡ªresigning to my fate that having a girlfriend was never meant to be. As another year passed, I still believed a girlfriend was not in the cards, but maybe in time. By the time the fourth year lapsed, I was content with being alone. I was disgusted by what women seemed to be about: Money that bought them popularity. The tangible; the things they could only touch and see. Denise left me jaded, but it was a culmination of everything else that left me defeated, giving me no alternative but to adapt to what they wanted me to be. I had to rip the heart from my sleeve and bury it so deep it could never be found. No woman could ever again know how much I cared for her¡ªthe cards forever in my hands. It was time to head to the battlefield to declare a full-scale war on love, with no arms tied behind my back and leaving nothing to chance. If they wanted an asshole who didn¡¯t care about their feelings or needs, then that¡¯s what they were going to get. Protecting what dwelled inside my chest cavity was my only goal¡ªto keep it beating at my own pace. If they didn¡¯t want me to be their hero after putting me in the position to be, then I would be a hero of my own. I stepped up my workouts from three to five days a week and increased my bench press a hundred pounds¡ªto three hundred pounds. After I received my accounting degree, I planned to leave Pedichairs to pursue a career in public accounting. In 2003, the national average for passing all four parts of the CPA examination in one sitting was 17%. That same year, driven to prove them all wrong about me, I took the CPA exam and joined that elite percentile group. I was then hired by a large local public accounting firm and worked as an audit staff accountant for two years. During those two years, I spent more time at the airport than I did at the office, traveling from Seattle to Ogden or Charlotte to Manhattan, spending months at a time on audit engagements. My career became my lifestyle, and for twelve hours a day, six days a week, that¡¯s all I did¡ªtaking a one-week vacation each year and banking my residual hours. I wanted something much more realistic and attainable than love¡ªI wanted to be a partner at my firm. In my third year, I was promoted to an Audit Senior, and in my fourth year, at thirty-five, I was promoted to Audit Manager, a position that usually took six years to reach.

    During my promotion luncheon, the head partner of the firm, Alan Kanian, made it no secret what the firm expected from me.

    ¡°We want you to be a partner, Landyn. We¡¯re going to give you all the resources you need and all the right jobs to make sure that happens,¡± he said, his thin graying hair hanging over his forehead.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you how much I appreciate that, Mr. Kanian,¡± I smiled. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I want more than to make partner.¡±

    ¡°We see that every day,¡± he nodded, his hawk-like blue eyes staring into mine. ¡°You¡¯ve done a great job for us, and we really appreciate it. We¡¯ve never given you anything easy, yet you¡¯ve delivered for us each time. Our clients love working with you¡ªthe sky¡¯s the limit.¡±

    It was really all I needed to hear. Instead of putting my heart into loving someone, I put my heart into my work, and unlike my luck in love, I was rewarded. Partners at my firm earned over half a million dollars a year and spent more time out on the golf course than the office. They lived in superior neighborhoods, had attractive, caring wives, year-long suntans, and kids in private schools. Mr. Kanian¡¯s words made it easy to see a dream life awaited me if I worked hard enough. In the six years since Denise left me, I learned to play guitar, graduated college, passed the CPA exam, obtained a new job where I was promoted twice, and moved into an apartment of my own in Newport Beach¡ªcloser to the home office located in Irvine. The only thing that stood in my way now was time. I had the drive and ambition to get there, all I had to do was stay focused on the prize. Strangely, it was my lack of success in love that brought me all the professional success in the world. All I had to do was turn my back on the fantasy of what true love really was; true fiction. I was so driven and focused to make partner, I didn¡¯t want anyone slowing me down. I no longer needed anyone¡ªall I needed was me; certainly alone, but never lonely. The person I saw in the mirror was the only one who could ever complete me.

    <hr>

 CHAPTER 16 ~ ANYA

    The greatest risk a person who believes in love could ever take in life is when they fall in love. Is there a greater paradox than love? How can someone who brings you a natural euphoria can also bring you the most pain? After my heartbreak with Denise, I learned it wasn¡¯t necessarily the amount of time you spent dating someone, but rather the amount of feelings you invest in them that determines how much time you need to move on. Over a longer relationship, you eventually learn some things you don¡¯t particularly like about a person you¡¯re with, that you could hang onto if things don¡¯t work out. Since our relationship was short, there was nothing I didn¡¯t like about Denise¡ªtaking me a longer time to get over her. Notwithstanding, my belief in love, surely didn¡¯t help my cause. I¡¯d rather lose money and not my mind to someone I loved. Denise only provided a confirmation of my greatest fears¡ªfeeding me every day through my low self-esteem. Even if they ripped my world apart, I wanted a woman to be brutally honest with me instead of leaving hints to piece together as if I was Sherlock Holmes. Why hurt someone multiple times when you could hurt them once and be done with it? Then again, maybe I didn¡¯t make it easy for Denise to be brutally honest because I was too nice for my own good? After that gut-wrenching heartache, I knew the pain of unrequited love all too well and promised myself to never again be so recklessly accommodating. I would make it easier on women to be heartlessly genuine with me, so much so, they would probably enjoy breaking my heart.

    People say it¡¯s better to have loved than to never have loved at all, but I preferred the latter. Heartbreak wrecked me so tremendously, it was like saying it¡¯s better to have gotten cancer than to never have gotten cancer at all. Falling in love for me was like catching a disease with an unknown prognosis. I didn¡¯t date again until five years after Denise left me. I lost an entire half decade, years I could¡¯ve spent building a life with someone else. All of my early thirties¡­unrecoverable. I couldn¡¯t date anyone with someone else on my mind¡ªit wouldn¡¯t have been fair to them. I just couldn¡¯t get over how much Denise thought I was some pathetic loser. How she surely believed only a man with nothing to offer would be so willing to fall in love. When I felt I had something more to offer, I joined an online dating service; TheOne.com. I signed up for six months and even went on a couple of dates the first few months, but no sparks flew. During the last week before my subscription ended, I stumbled upon the most attractive girl I¡¯ve seen on the website, Carrie. She had straight, long brunette hair complemented by a heart tugging smile and warm light blue eyes. She had multiple pics up and all of them were either as good or better than her main profile picture¡ªa rare feat to pull off. After having my heart broken, I came to learn a woman¡¯s beauty didn¡¯t mean much if she wasn¡¯t a good person, and I kept that in mind while reading Carrie¡¯s dating profile.

    KIND & HAPPY SEEKING SAME

    I¡¯m looking for a good man. Why are they so hard to find? My philosophy is be kind to everyone. I¡¯m loyal, honest, fun, simple and easy going! I communicate well and really love to laugh! If you want to know more, send me an email!

    Upon reading her short blurb, I was hooked. Her words impressed me more than her pictures did. As I beat back a past that believed she was too good for me, I sent her an email wanting to know more. I was so certain she wouldn¡¯t respond, I waited until the next evening to check my messages. When I saw she emailed me back, I figured it was just to tell me she wasn¡¯t interested. When her reply included a few questions about myself, I entertained the thought that it wasn¡¯t Carrie, but rather an auto email reply macro created by their dating website designer. To test the waters, I answered her questions and then bravely asked for her number. It wasn¡¯t until I actually heard her voice over the phone that convinced me she was real. Over the next two weeks, after talking on the phone about four times, we were both ready to take the next step and meet in person. Even after talking on the phone, Carrie was so sweet and attractive, I worried she was too good to be true, and my heart was ripe for being catfished. Although I hadn¡¯t felt this much promise in someone since I met Denise, the fear of looking like a fool was a risk I had to take. After five long years, now thirty-six years old, it was now or never.

    In great anticipation of meeting her, I arrived at the ¡°Good Morning Caf¨¦¡± coffee shop twenty minutes early to make sure we had a good place to sit. To my surprise, I found a spot to park my car right in front of the cafe and when I walked inside, the place looked fairly empty. Looking to my right, I quickly noticed an open mahogany colored couch in a dimly lit corner, but I didn¡¯t want to make her feel uncomfortable sitting so close together on a first date. I then spotted two cozy looking chairs facing each other with a small table in between and planted myself in one of them. There were a few people in the coffee shop on this late Saturday morning¡ªa female college student working on a laptop and a gray-haired couple sitting at the caf¨¦¡¯s farthest end appearing lost in their own world. While waiting for her on a warm olive-green velvet chair, my heart raced each time the glass doors swung open, in fear and anticipation. What if she didn¡¯t look anything like the girl in the picture? Would it even matter now after talking to her over the phone for the last two weeks? What if she found me unattractive? If she looked nothing like her profile picture, I would probably cut our meeting short, but would never leave upon her arrival. Sure, I¡¯d be disappointed, but I knew how loneliness could drive us to do things we wouldn¡¯t normally do. It didn¡¯t mean she was a bad person, just a sad one. Just like investing in the stock market, there¡¯s an element of risk to online dating¡ªyou must be prepared for the unpredictable, but starting a relationship with dishonesty would scare me more about a person than their physical appearance ever could.

    When Carrie finally came through the cafe¡¯s crystal doors, I froze up. Her pics did her no justice¡ªshe was more attractive in person. With her long brunette hair flowing just past her bare shoulders and her eyes searching for me, I laid my phone down on the chair to save it for us before walking over to meet her. Wearing a white shoulder less burnout top with blue jeans, she made me quickly realize how my black collarless t-shirt with beige shorts rendered me too casual for our first meeting. Subdued by her attractiveness, I approached cautiously, but when she recognized me and smiled, I felt more at ease. As I stood before Carrie, her sweet flowery perfume invaded my nasal passages and stoked my adrenaline. It had been so long; I forgot how much the scent of a woman¡¯s perfume took a hold on me.

    ¡°Nice to finally meet you, Carrie.¡± I said wearing a nervous smile.

    ¡°Nice to meet you too.¡± She responded then giving me a very unexpected hug.

    ¡°I got here a little early so I was able to grab those two chairs for us.¡± I pointed out to her after she embraced me.

    ¡°Can we sit outside?¡± She asked. ¡°Do you mind?¡±

    ¡°Sure! Not at all!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s an available patio table right there.¡± She aimed with a manicured index finger outside the cafe¡¯s large front window.

    ¡°Oh, I see it. Let¡¯s sit there.¡± I seconded, getting lost in her light blue eyes. ¡°Can I get you a latte?¡±

    ¡°You remembered I drink lattes?¡±

    ¡°Of course I did!¡± I smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t mind grabbing the spot outside while I order our drinks?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ll meet you out there.¡± She said, suddenly reaching into a small white purse then putting a phone to her ear.

    After saying ¡°hello¡± she motioned with her free hand to let me know she was heading outside. As she walked past two men in line, they turned their heads so fast they may have gotten whiplash. While I waited to order, I couldn¡¯t help but try to catch a glimpse of her myself. After all the horror stories you hear about people not looking anything like their dating profile pictures, it¡¯s more of a shock when they look better in person. After I placed an order for a latte and then a hot green tea for myself, that was when it hit me¡ªit¡¯s been five years since I was genuinely interested in getting to know someone again. Now as it stood, if I played my cards right, my disastrous experience with Denise could have some reason to it. When we talked on the phone, I purposely reserved any serious conversations for a face to face meeting rather than having them through a wire. Our phone calls weren¡¯t hour marathons but just twenty-minute chats to get a feel for each other. For instance, to see how our days went and what our plans were for the weekend. I knew the basics about her¡ªshe¡¯s been single for a year after a three-year relationship and loved the Pittsburgh Steelers. As attractive as Carrie was, there was no doubt she could turn a man whose allegiance belonged to another team, into a Steelers fan. Hell, I was already imagining what a Ben Roethlisberger jersey would look like on me and I was a die-hard Rams fan. When I had our drinks in my hand and made my way outside, for the first time in half a decade a flicker of life burned inside me.

    Walking out into the open air, I noticed the sun had broken through the clouds for the first time this morning, and wondered if Carrie noticed it too. Approaching the small charcoal colored round metal patio table, I flashbacked to when Denise admonished me at the restaurant for standing until she sat. After noticing that Carrie was still seated, I breathed a sigh of mental relief. Before reaching her, I saw how she was one of those women you just knew was super pretty simply by the way her long smooth hair laid so delicately upon her back¡ªthere was no way her face wouldn¡¯t be able to complement it. Since she was still on the phone, I gently laid her hot latte down before her. She then nodded to acknowledge my arrival and I quietly took my seat directly across from her. I slightly pulled my chair closer to the table and noticed sweat was now on the arms of my black metal chair. I then took a sip of the hot tea, wiping my palms against the cardboard sleeve as I held my cup to reduce the sweat. As she continued to chat on the phone, a relentless attack of butterfly wings batted against my stomach, but they met a warm feeling of promise within me. After five years of emptiness, I felt as full as the warm cup in my hand. When Carrie ended her conversation and laid her phone down on the table, I couldn¡¯t have been more excited to get to know someone.

    ¡°Thanks for meeting me here,¡± I said, looking into her blue eyes. ¡°I hope it wasn¡¯t too soon to meet for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. No, I didn¡¯t think it was too soon.¡± She said, looking down at her phone. ¡°I have to admit my Dad would be really disappointed in me if he knew I was meeting a random guy here from a dating website.¡±

    ¡°Oh, was that him on the phone?¡± I asked, trying to figure out why she would tell me that.

    ¡°No.¡± She flatly replied, her clandestine azure eyes still on the phone.

    ¡°I can understand that¡ªit¡¯s kinda scary out there. The internet has definitely opened the world up. It¡¯s harder to meet good people these days, but online dating gives us all a better chance to meet our soulmate.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± She wondered, turning her attention away from the mobile phone.

    ¡°Online dating gives you the chance to meet someone outside your general area. You have access to the entire world if you want it.¡± I explained, looking nervously away from her mesmerizing eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think our parents had that.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying they settled?¡±

    ¡°Most likely.¡± I said, finding the temerity to look at her. ¡°The high divorce rates seem to suggest less people have found their soulmates.¡±

    ¡°Are you sayin¡¯ soulmates are only those who connect with each other on an internal level?¡±

    ¡°For the most part.¡± I replied, feeling confident I now had her attention.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think having a physical attraction is important?¡± She wondered, taking a sip of her latte while keeping her eyes in mine.

    ¡°A physical attraction is the initial starting point, and it¡¯s certainly important,¡± I explained, trying to build a connection with her. ¡°but if the person you¡¯re attracted to physically isn¡¯t beautiful on the inside too, then it will never work out in the long run. I think that¡¯s the problem today.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked while pushing a button on her phone.

    ¡°The divorce rates are what¡­Sixty percent in this country now? It¡¯s a loveless society we¡¯re living in today.¡± I responded, trying not to sound negative because of my experiences. ¡°If a relationship is based on just a physical attraction, then it¡¯s doomed when the sheets cool down. It just seems people are choosing partners for the wrong reasons.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± She replied, with a hand under her cheek. ¡°How many relationships have you had?¡±

    ¡°Two.¡± Anxiously taking a sip of my tea to hide my sudden nervousness.

    ¡°How old are you again?¡±

    ¡°Thirty-six.¡± Now bringing my sweaty hands upon the arms of the metal chair.

    ¡°No kids?¡± She asked with a look of disbelief on her face.

    I shook my head.

    ¡°Were your relationships long-term?¡±

    As she spoke to me, I imagined caressing her face and what her red full pouty lips would feel like against mine. I couldn¡¯t believe such an attractive woman was sitting right in front of me taking an interest in who I was. Knowing she came here to meet me, while noticing nearly every man who walked in and out of the caf¨¦ checked her out, made me feel nothing short of special. It was impossible not to be enamored by her as I hoped the questions she posed were made to connect with me and not in judgment of me.

    ¡°My longest lasted two years. The other lasted about five months, but it was a substantial relationship,¡± I replied, fearing a follow-up question that may stoke an emotional response from me. ¡°The five-month relationship was my last one.¡±

    ¡°You consider a five-month relationship substantial?¡± She questioned loudly while holding in her laughter.

    ¡°I know how that must sound,¡± I laughed fearfully while trying to implement some damage control. ¡°I guess I feel, you know, umm¡­A substantial relationship is not defined by the length of time you¡¯re with someone but rather by how many feelings you hold for them inside your heart. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve learned because it took me longer to get over a five-month relationship than it did a two-year one.¡±

    ¡°How long did it take for you to get over it?¡± She inquired, removing a hand from her cheek and glaring down at the phone. ¡°A few months?¡±

    ¡°It was more like a few years.¡± I fairly fibbed, knowing my answer still left me open for judgment.

    ¡°That long? Are you really over her?¡± Her blue eyes studying mine.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be on a dating website if I wasn¡¯t,¡± Responding while maintaining eye contact to ease any reservations she had. ¡°It really wasn¡¯t so much getting over her but tryin¡¯ to get over the way she made me feel about myself. Losin¡¯ a great person made me feel like much less of one. I took some time to work on myself to hopefully lessen the chances of it ever happening to me again.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t date anyone for three years?¡±

    ¡°I just didn¡¯t think it was fair to date someone while holdin¡¯ on to feelings for someone else.¡± I said, watching behind her as another man glanced over as they walked out of the coffee shop.

    ¡°Did you seek any mental help?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, surprised by her question.

    ¡°You know¡­Did you talk to a therapist?¡±

    ¡°Talk to a therapist?¡± I laughed. ¡°Oh no¡­I just needed some time alone, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Is there somethin¡¯ wrong with you that maybe I should know?¡±

    ¡°That depends on who you ask!¡± I joked, trying to field her questions in a positive way.

    When her eyes begged me for a better answer instead of smiling, I tried to recover like a stand-up comedian whose best joke garnered no laughs. ¡°She lived in Northern Cali and I lived down here and I think that scared her. We can all be resistant to change¡ªeven change that is good for us. She never loved me though¡­I had a really hard time understandin¡¯ that.¡±

    ¡°Why was that so hard for you to understand?¡± She asked, shaking her head.

    Although I told Carrie it took three years to get over Denise, instead of the five it did, I found it to be a fair number to be judged on. I wanted to be honest with her about everything but I didn¡¯t want to divulge too much information about my heartbreaks¡ªespecially during our first meeting. Without any idea how she may react to my reason for not being able to get past Denise so quickly. I just hoped she could relate.

    ¡°Well, we experienced the most intimate act two people could ever share with one another.¡± Responding with hesitance in my voice. ¡°So¡­I believed she was in love with me.¡±

    ¡°Do you believe two people have to be in love¡­To have sex?¡± She stated with a hint of amusement.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯d just like to believe that someone who was willing to share that much of themselves is at the very least falling in love with me.¡± I replied, feeling a bit defeated.

    ¡°Were you in love with her?¡±

    ¡°Very much so.¡± I confirmed with dread.

    ¡°After only five months?¡± She stated with wide eyes of disbelief. ¡°Do you really think it¡¯s possible to fall in love with someone after knowing them for only five months?¡±

    As much as Carrie¡¯s questions seemed to poke fun at me, her attractiveness captured the hopeless romantic in me, and now there was no escape¡ªit seemed she didn¡¯t believe in love the way I did. She had no idea that for me to even dare talking about love was a great leap of faith after dismissing it as a myth for the last five years. Denise taught me the painful lesson about loving someone too soon, and I didn¡¯t want to come off as that kind of man. I¡¯ve seen it used against me in the past and I refused to put my heart in that position ever again. As much as I wanted to tell Carrie that five months was way too soon to fall in love with someone, I¡¯d be lying to her if I did. I already knew it could happen and worse yet? I¡¯d be somebody I¡¯m not.

    ¡°If you believe in love¡­¡± I paused. ¡°all things are possible.¡±

    ¡°Do you fall in love easily?¡± She dug deeper, turning her eyes away from mine.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°I have an internal defense system in place now.¡±

    As I hoped her eyes would come back into mine, she sighed and looked down again at a lifeless phone before taking another drink of her latte.

    ¡°How many relationships have you been in?¡± I politely inquired in an effort to take the focus off my ineptness at love.

    ¡°Just one; John. I was with him for ten years.¡± She announced, straightening her posture and keeping her eyes away from mine.

    ¡°Wow! Ten years?¡± I said, trying to ignore where her eyes trailed off to. ¡°How¡¯d you guys meet?¡±

    ¡°At a business function while I was living in New York. He was a Wall Street investment banker assigned to perform due diligence for my company as part of a merger. My God¡­He was just so incredible¡ªhandsome and powerful; a financial genius.¡± She explained, her eyes now full of life and back into mine. ¡°Anyway, his investment bank took a hit and our relationship went under as well. That¡¯s when I packed up my things and headed back home to L.A. So, here I am givin¡¯ it another shot.¡±

    ¡°This is a big step for both of us then!¡± Showing enthusiasm about our meeting.

    ¡°How tall are you?¡± She asked abruptly.

    ¡°Five foot eight. How tall are you?¡±

    ¡°Only five three, but I prefer dating men who are no less than six feet tall¡ªI like to wear high heels.¡± She shot, her blue eyes now somewhere in the parking lot. ¡°I feel safer with a taller man by my side.¡±

    Her revelation hit me like a dagger straight to the heart. Since she knew how tall I was before our meeting, it seemed being true to myself only inspired her to disconnect from me. When she made me aware of this preference as her eyes scanned the parking lot for anybody other than the person in front of her, I felt like a boxer against the ropes. All I could do now was protect myself from falling face first on the canvas.

    ¡°I guess my philosophy is that it shouldn¡¯t be about how far a man stands above the ground,¡± I said, then taking a sip of my tea. ¡°but rather how far a man is willing to go to make you happy.¡±

    Upon this statement, and to my great surprise, Carrie¡¯s eyes shot right back into mine¡ªbringing a sense to the end of the cognitive dissonance between us, if not a connection. While locked in each other¡¯s eyes, trying to read our thoughts, all I could do was anxiously await her response.

    ¡°What kind of car do you drive?¡± She doubled down.

    ¡°A truck; a Toyota Tacoma.¡± I said, pointing to it just twenty feet away from where we sat. ¡°The silver one right there with the black trim. I just got it a few months ago.¡±

    Carrie turned her head towards the neutral vehicle then nodded.

    ¡°What kind of car do you get around in?¡± I asked, hoping to salvage our conversation.

    ¡°The S-Class right there.¡± She said pointing to the black Mercedes Benz parked right next to mine.

    ¡°That¡¯s a really nice car.¡± I replied, not knowing the hierarchy in classes of Mercedes.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°What do you do for work?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t work.¡± She answered flatly, now twirling a string of her hair with a finger. ¡°I don¡¯t have to.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re able to afford a Mercedes?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I did well in New York.¡± A crossed leg now bouncing back and forth while her eyes returned to the mobile phone.

    ¡°That¡¯s very impressive. Do you have any¡­¡±

    Before I could finish my sentence, she put her hand out to cut me off.

    ¡°Yeah, listen Landryn, it was nice meeting you, but I¡¯m meeting some friends for lunch in a half hour and so I have to go.¡±

    When she called me ¡®Landryn¡¯ I felt deflated, but what¡¯s wrong with her needing to cut our date short to meet friends for lunch? Maybe she was testing me to see how I would react? Although disappointed, I remained hopeful we could meet again when she wasn¡¯t in such a rush.

    ¡°Oh, okay Carrie. It was nice meeting you too. Would you like to hang out again next week? Maybe we can go grab a bite somewhere? My treat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­You¡¯re a really nice guy but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re my type.¡± She confessed. ¡°I¡¯m lookin¡¯ to really connect with someone and I don¡¯t feel that happened with you.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± I nodded not knowing how to respond after receiving the brutal honesty I asked for. ¡°I appreciate your honesty.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the latte, though.¡± She said, rising from her chair.

    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome.¡± I nodded, smiling.

    Before I could say ¡®take care¡¯, and without even pushing in her chair, she walked quickly in the opposite direction. Within a matter of seconds, she disappeared into the darkness of her tinted windowed Mercedes Benz. When she pulled out rapidly from her spot, I waved but could only pretend in my mind she was waving back at me. I then looked at her abandoned coffee cup and tried not to torture myself with an estimation of its weight. After throwing two nearly full drinks into a cement encased plastic trash can, I dug my hands into my jean pockets and slowly walked to my truck. For some reason, my vehicle looked differently than it did twenty minutes earlier. As I got inside and stuck the key in the ignition, I imagined the conversation she would have with her girlfriends, or probably another man¡ªtaking a shot or two at the ¡®out of touch with reality lovebird¡¯ she met earlier. I then took notice how the butterflies that thrived in my stomach had all flown away as the sun disappeared again behind the clouds. To not see this return to normalcy coming after all I¡¯ve learned over the last five years, made it richly deserved¡ªI guess it just would¡¯ve been nice to believe again. Now that I held a career that depended on having a sound mind, I could no longer afford to dwell on my disappointments. It had to be free of both heartbreak and impossibilities. Carrie confirmed everything I learned over the last five years¡ªbelieving in love was both immature and irrational in this day and age. Books, movies and songs of love were all just escapes from reality for those who knew the real world didn¡¯t contain it. I duped my own self into believing in love¡¯s existence even with the knowledge of living in a loveless world¡ªboth illogical and irresponsible of me. Carrie saw my recklessness and ran for her life, and even if she looked for the wrong things in men, she knew after a 10-year relationship the phony nature of love. She saw a man who never truly experienced love, who could only talk of it, and then created an excuse to leave him there. I couldn¡¯t blame her.

    I decided to embrace my single status by finding solace at a bar in Newport Beach called Sonoma''s. I had to be up early on the weekdays, so I mainly went on Friday and Saturday nights when I wasn¡¯t traveling for work. The bar was only fifteen minutes away from my apartment, and became my sanctuary to destress after a long workweek. Sonoma''s boasted reasonably priced drinks and even had a live band. The crowd was mature, aged roughly between thirty and fifty years old, and I never felt like ¡®that creepy old guy¡¯ being there alone. If I still went to the same clubs I used to, I¡¯d likely run into a kid I worked with at the daycare from a decade earlier. The women at Sonoma''s were generally described as ¡®cougars¡¯, but I was pretty much a ¡®manther¡¯ and preferred them over the ¡®twenty somethings¡¯ who lacked life experiences. Also, the women usually approached me to start conversations and I appreciated that about them. After all I¡¯ve experienced, I¡¯d have to be pretty drunk to even dare initiating a conversation. If they were interested, they could come and talk to me. I refused to waste my breath on women who were just going to judge me for my height or the kind of car I drove anyway. At times my silence gave me the appearance of being ¡®stuck up¡¯, but I¡¯ve been humbled too many times in my life by women to be labeled as such. I also couldn¡¯t expect them to understand the disappointments I experienced or the insecurities I¡¯ve grown attached to. They shouldn¡¯t have to be subjected to my negativity, so why waste their time? I simply couldn¡¯t afford another heartbreak at thirty-seven years old and with a career job. I could understand accumulating painful learning experiences in my twenties as part of my ¡®coming of age¡¯, and now years removed from them, I could even feel grateful. But much like a spiteful ghost, I couldn¡¯t afford another lesson in love in my late thirties, I would be too haunted by it.

    When he learned I went to bars and dance clubs, my father gave me a hard time. I never told him I frequented Sonoma''s¡ªI knew exactly what he would say.

    ¡°You¡¯re never gonna meet anyone good at a bar.¡± He¡¯d yell.

    ¡°How could you say that?¡± I¡¯d argue. ¡°I¡¯m a good person and I¡¯m at a bar¡ªall I need to do is meet another me, right? Who said I was goin¡¯ there to meet someone anyway?¡±

    ¡°You should just hang out at a pond then.¡±

    ¡°A pond?¡± I¡¯d respond, with a lost look on my face.

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s plenty of ducks there.¡± He¡¯d yell, never presenting his views in a calm collected manner. ¡°When you hang out with ducks, you start quackin¡¯ like em¡¯. There are better places to meet people.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the fifties anymore, Dad. You were lucky enough to meet Mom in the neighborhood you grew up in.¡± I¡¯d defend. ¡°It¡¯s not easy out there anymore to meet people. Where¡¯s a better place?¡±

    ¡°Church.¡± He¡¯d tell me.

    ¡°Oh please. Church?¡± I¡¯d shake my head at him. ¡°Have you been talkin¡¯ to Mom?¡±

    ¡°Church is a good place to meet a nice young lady.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m attracted to women who don¡¯t restrict themselves from enjoyin¡¯ life.¡± I¡¯d say. ¡°I wanna be with someone who likes to have fun.¡±

    ¡°Hey, look at your mother. She likes to have fun!¡± He¡¯d say, raising his voice even higher.

    ¡°Yeah, right. Mom¡¯s idea of havin¡¯ fun on a Saturday night is cleanin¡¯ the house.¡± I¡¯d reply sarcastically. ¡°Every time she vacuums, she burns up the rug.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true¡ªthere¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t know about your mother and me. We like to have a lot of fun. We just don¡¯t get drunk and hang out at bars.¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    My father¡¯s criticism was coming from a good place and I couldn¡¯t fully disagree. It wasn¡¯t the ideal place to meet someone and fall in love, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t possible. I¡¯d be a total fraud if I ever met someone from church¡ªI had to actually believe in God to meet someone who believed in and loved God. My father was extremely old-fashioned, judgmental and basically removed from today¡¯s world. He met my mother when he was in junior high and I had yet to meet anyone¡­Let alone way back in junior high school. The world changed and there were more options available to people than there were in the fifties when he met my mom. The internet opened up the entire world and now not only did I have competition from a guy down the block, but also from around the globe. After my meeting with Carrie, I never used an online dating service again to meet people. A potential partner could see what you looked like, know what you¡¯ve accomplished and could also share common interests and goals, but you could never measure chemistry until you¡¯ve met. It¡¯s what ultimately brought two people together and Sonoma''s provided me with my own chemistry set. Being there, I could gauge it right off the bat without wasting weeks sending meaningless emails back and forth getting to know someone.

    Regardless of my depression, I never let my drinking get out of hand. Sure, I¡¯d get drunk on occasion, but never craved it; only using it to be social. If I wasn¡¯t good enough to drive, I¡¯d walk home and pick my car up in the morning¡ªor I¡¯d wait a while to sober up before driving. I was the type of person who scooped up spiders and put them outside whenever I found them in my apartment. If I ever killed someone while driving home drunk, jumping off the Vincent Thomas Bridge would be a foregone conclusion¡ªI wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself. Being only a few years away from making partner, I wasn¡¯t going to jeopardize my future by drunk driving. I had money in the bank, no criminal record, and perfect credit with zero debt¡ªlife was wide open for the taking. I wasn¡¯t Tony Montana but the world was mine if I stayed the course. If there was ever a time to dream, this was the time. After Denise ruptured my world, it forced me to reinvent myself. All I had to do was stop believing in love to attain a life I never dreamt possible.

    The only void I felt was not having love, but I didn¡¯t care anymore. All I had was a mere vision of what love was anyway and still lived without it my entire existence. It was a nice dream, but I needed to focus on what really existed and held value in the world¡­Money. Denise taught me I couldn¡¯t take care of her and quite honestly, I could barely take care of myself at the time. Most importantly, she inspired me to capitalize on capitalism instead of hoping, wishing and dreaming love would find me. I learned love was no different than a game of Poker. It was about showing no interest in someone, even after intimacy and even if you do care for them, in order to gain the upper hand. To win a woman¡¯s heart, bluffing was everything. I always wore my heart on my sleeve, but I lost Denise the very second I showed it to her. I could recall all the nights I stayed home wondering what she was doing, while knowing without uncertainty, she was in someone else¡¯s arms¡ªwhere she wanted to be. This ruthless thought inspired an imagination that bore down on me like an endless caning; a throbbing anguish that never let up to ensure I¡¯d never forget how falling in love left me to feel. Every heart wrecking scene I imagined of her being happy with someone else only solidified the need to never allow myself to fall in love again¡ªno one believed in love the way I did anyway. Losing Denise taught me how to navigate through a loveless world, and once I did, life accepted me with open arms.

    Although I sought to shred the ¡®nice guy¡¯ persona, I never acted like a ¡®jerk¡¯ to any of the women I met at Sonoma''s¡ªchoosing to be friendly but on guard. I could complain all I wanted about women who were ¡°bitches¡±, but often times it took a jerk to make them that way and I didn¡¯t want to contribute to that. Every weekend brought new people into my life¡ªa celebration of being single. Although drunken make-out sessions happened from time to time, I never felt strongly enough to take a woman home for a night cap. Other than pure animal magnetism, and a few dance moves inspired by the band¡¯s choice of music, I never established a connection with any woman to take it beyond the night. I was having too much fun being single and being available to meet others. Since I was a weekend regular, I didn¡¯t want a reputation for sleeping around and then having women be upset with me¡ªI wasn¡¯t raised to be that way. Another weekend regular, a surly, dark-haired but balding male, Mitchell Black, loved to take jabs at me about it.

    ¡°So, what happened last weekend, dude?¡± He¡¯d ask, stroking his goatee. ¡°Did you tap it?¡±

    I¡¯d usually just shake my head at him since the bar got loud at times.

    ¡°What?¡± He¡¯d shout in disbelief. ¡°She was hot, bro!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna get close to anyone right now.¡±

    ¡°I wanna smack you.¡± He¡¯d say, raising his right hand to my face.

    The phrase ¡°I wanna smack you¡± was uttered by Mitch on numerous occasions. He could never comprehend why I never took it past a make-out session. I never thought I was better than anyone, just more cautious. He also didn¡¯t know about Sara, Karyn or Denise¡ªhe could never understand my refusal to be held captive by my own heart again. Even if he did know, I doubt it would¡¯ve made a difference to him, he¡¯d likely want to smack me more. Watching Mitch interact with the women at Sonoma''s best captured his attitude towards them.

    ¡°Hey, ya got a light?¡± He¡¯d ask a woman he wanted to talk to.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°How bout¡¯ a match?¡± He¡¯d press.

    ¡°A match? No.¡± They¡¯d respond, annoyed.

    ¡°Two sticks?¡±

    After strike three was called, he¡¯d just move on to the next one with the same exact line. I had to admit, hanging with Mitch made the night entertaining. A part of me admired how he scoffed in the face of constant rejection by never caring what they thought of him¡ªleading with a conditioned mind rather than with his heart. If he was the kind of guy who led with his heart and got burned with it as many times as I had, he¡¯d understand better why I never took a girl home. The only reason I went out to Sonoma''s on the weekends was to feel a part of a group that I no longer felt a part of¡ªthe human race. He frequented Sonoma''s to get laid, and as much as I abhorred his mind set, I also appreciated it¡ªit gave women the inability to hurt him. In his mind, he had nothing to lose anyway¡ªeven his reputation. After becoming this fearful idealist, my mind could no longer afford to take the risks he did. Mitch was relentless with each woman he pursued, and on this night in particular, the second day of June 2007, he even topped himself.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Hey dude, do you remember that chick I hooked up with last month?¡± He randomly blurted out to me. ¡°Alice?¡¯

    ¡°You mean Alisha, right?¡± I corrected while remembering it was the only woman who I ever saw accommodate his behavior.

    ¡°Hold up¡­Alisha? Oh, yeah. That¡¯s it¡­Alisha.¡± He reminded himself while I imagined a flickering light bulb above his head. ¡°Shit¡­I hope I called her Alisha. Anyways, that bitch is here! I just made out with her, bro!¡±

    ¡°Congratulations.¡± Sarcastically responding while taking a sip from my glass of Pinot.

    ¡°Dude! There she is!¡± He announced while pointing to the back of a curvy blonde girl in blue jeans and a black shoulder less top about twenty feet away. ¡°Watch this¡­I¡¯ll show you, bro!¡±

    ¡°Uh, Mitch. That¡¯s okay...Really. I believe¡­¡± Trailing off, unable to stop him from doing the unwanted from her perspective.

    Feeling like an accomplice to a crime, I witnessed Mitch stealthily stalk her from behind. When he reached her, and as unnaturally as possible, he attached his hands to the back of her shoulders then forcefully spun her around until she faced him. A surging sense of guilt flowed through me as I did nothing to stop the impending mouth rape of Alisha, but like driving by a car wreck on the side of the road, I couldn¡¯t restrain from looking. Grabbing the back of her head with both hands, he then rammed her lips into his. Since his head blocked my view, I was unable to see her pursed lips in complete defense mode. After he proved that he could kiss a member of the opposite sex, he strutted proudly back to where I stood, beaming.

    ¡°Did you see that, dude? Choppin¡¯ wood! Chop¡­Pin¡¯ wood!¡± Exclaiming and spitting in my face at the same time. ¡°I told ya, dude. Alice digs me.¡±

    ¡°Clearly.¡± I replied, wiping the stray saliva off my face. ¡°How drunk are you? That was about the creepiest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    ¡°What? Creepy? Alice loved it!¡± He yelled wide-eyed, blowing kisses at a girl whose back was turned to him. ¡°I¡¯ve only had five kamikazes. Whatchu drinkin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Pinot.¡± I said, bringing my half full wine glass up to his face.

    ¡°Pinot? What¡¯s that? A wine cooler?¡±

    Mitchell Black¡¯s persona at Sonoma''s was a cross between ¡°Fast Times at Ridgemont High¡¯s¡± Mike Damone and Sun-Tzu. He used the phrase ¡°choppin¡¯ wood¡± to describe his strategy for hooking up with women. The philosophy being that if he didn¡¯t hook up with a girl on the same night after getting to know each other, a chance to sleep with her still existed if he saw her again. Basically, the wood¡¯s already been chopped so it¡¯s just time to make a fire. I watched him lose many battles, more than most men, but at least he had the guts to lose them. I saw him win a few times too though, ones I never believed he even had a chance to compete let alone win. Although I didn¡¯t agree with his objective, I couldn¡¯t deny we were just a split platoon.

    At five foot ten, Mitch stood a couple of inches taller than I did. He possessed a strong, character line free face for a forty-year old and carried a sturdy build with hints of muscle tone. He didn¡¯t do too badly with women, but his behavior was so overbearing it usually turned them off. Half the time he spoke to them, the safety phrase ¡°duck, cover and roll¡± took on a whole new meaning due to the flying saliva shooting from his mouth. I tried to never get him excited to keep my face dry, but when that didn¡¯t happen, protecting my face from it was like trying to catch a fly with chopsticks.

    Mitch worked as a disc jockey at an L.A. strip joint and since he was always around women who wore nothing, he didn¡¯t particularly care much for wearing clothes himself. Not that I paid much attention to a man¡¯s attire, but it was hard not to notice after a few months it never changed. He habitually sported a white collared shirt that advertised the strip club he worked at with the same black trouser shorts. To compliment this regular clothing, he also wore white tennis shoes with Velcro straps that made a pair of bowling shoes appear fashionable. He also never had to worry about matching socks¡ªhe never wore those. Just like the man himself, though, rain or shine, the shirt, shorts and shoes never changed. Yet here I stood, dressed in a black collared dress shirt, wrinkle free dark denim blue jeans with polished black dress shoes, and I could honestly say, Mitch was far less self-conscious talking to women than I was.

    ¡°Dude, did you drive the Marcedes here tonight?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Nope¡­Took a taxi.¡± I lied.

    ¡°I wanna smack you.¡± He slurred, his hand in position. ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    I nodded with false affirmation.

    ¡°Dammit, dude! Alice won¡¯t want me now!¡± He boomed, his voice rivaling the sound of the live band.

    ¡°What is it about the car? You don¡¯t need it.¡± I shot back.

    ¡°Chicks love the Marcedes, dude! When they see me in it, it¡¯s easier to chop wood.¡± He explained. ¡°They think I got somethin¡¯ goin¡¯ on.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s because you¡¯re choppin¡¯ wood on false pretenses by tellin¡¯ them it¡¯s your car.¡± I laughed. ¡°Why pigeon hole yourself? They¡¯re gonna eventually learn the truth anyway.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, man. All I need is for them to see me leavin¡¯ in that car.¡± He rationalized, trying to keep his balance against the long wooden countertop next to us. ¡°All I have to do is fool em¡¯ for one night¡ªMitch is here for one night only.¡±

    ¡°I think they came here for the drink specials, not the one night special.¡± I joked.

    ¡°They getting¡¯ a little somethin¡¯ extra.¡± Slurring his way through his response. ¡°I totally macked down on Alice. I slipped her the tongue too. You saw that, right?¡±

    Like letting go of a helium filled balloon, the urge to continue the conversation was out of my hands. In a fifteen-minute span he went from ¡°Fast Times at Ridgemont High¡¯s¡± Mike Damone to ¡°Sixteen Candles¡± Farmer Ted. It wouldn¡¯t have surprised me if he asked all the men at the bar to follow him inside the restroom to show off the lipstick on his lips. My new Mercedes was a whole other obstacle with him. My Tacoma truck had a half cab so I needed something more practical to shuttle clients around in for lunch meetings¡ªmy failed meeting with Carrie having a little something to do with it too. Buying the car helped me to see something tangible for all the hours of work I¡¯ve put in, and at the same time showing my commitment to the firm. Thanks to Mitch, though, I was also committed to buyer¡¯s remorse.

    ¡°Hey¡­Buttwipe.¡± Mitch leaned into me.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, naturally assuming he was referring to me.

    ¡°Quick. Put your hand on my back.¡± He instructed.

    The very second my hand touched his shoulder blade, Mitch hurled himself into a cute petite red head who walked by.

    ¡°Ahhhhwhoaaaaa!!!!¡± Yelling then applying a bear hug on the horrified female patron. He then defended himself¡ªby pointing at me. ¡°Did you see that? This crazy bastard just pushed me right into you! I almost fell on the floor, but you saved me, baby!¡±

    When her green eyes glared at me like she was holding a loaded pistol, I put my hands up and apologized for something I didn¡¯t do. Just when I thought Mitch couldn¡¯t embarrass me more, he seemed to always find a way to top himself. Whenever he pulled stunts like this, I feared every woman in the bar thought I condoned his antics, but I wanted to flee the scene as quick as they wanted to. If she only knew Mitch was the kind of guy who would throw himself at a girl, literally, I¡¯d be able to escape her judgment. On this night, though, I was the mastermind behind the human catapult.

    ¡°Hey Honey, thanks for being there in my time of need. I nearly wrecked this handsome face of mine, ya know what I mean?¡± Slurring through his pickup line while giving her a cocky head bob. ¡°How bout¡¯ I dance with you as a show of my appreciation?¡±

    ¡°No thanks.¡± She fired back, shaking her head vigorously.

    ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯ll be right here when you change your mind about that dance, babe.¡± Stumbling a bit as he leaned into the bar counter. ¡°I know how you women think. Changing your mind is your prerogative!¡±

    ¡°Um, yeah. I wouldn¡¯t count on that.¡± She clarified, then walking quickly away.

    ¡°Whatever, skank!¡± Hollered Mitch, drawing looks from the people near enough to hear him.

    ¡°Mitch,¡± I said sternly, pulling him away from her. ¡°Chill out.¡±

    ¡°I was gonna show her a good time tonight.¡± He rambled, spitting as he tried to explain his intentions. ¡°I threw myself at the bitch.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? This crazy bastard didn¡¯t push you?¡± I said, pointing at myself.

    ¡°Yeah. Hey next time do me a favor.¡± He asked, hanging onto me for support.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to me.¡±

    ¡°Easier done than said.¡± I assured, while wiping his stray saliva off my face and maintaining my distance from him.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna go see what Alice is up to.¡± He stammered, with an empty glass in his hand as he slowly wobbled away.

    ¡°Good luck with that. Say hi to Flo and Mel for me.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡­Who¡­Who¡¯s that?¡± He quickly turned around then stumbled back towards me, his glazed eyes searching the bar. ¡°Florence and Melody? Where are they?¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡± I said, my dated joke about the characters of the sitcom ¡°Alice¡± falling flat on drunken ears. ¡°I was just kiddin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t joke about that, dude.¡± Pointing at me with an unstable finger. Turning around, he then made his way through the bar, bumping into anyone in his path, to find a girl who likely left the bar after he kissed her.

    Being a quaint high scale bar and restaurant, lighting at Sonoma''s bordered between dim and bright. The main bar¡¯s countertop stretched seventy feet in length and could easily accommodate forty guests. Behind the bar, glass shelving displayed all the different kinds of liquor they had in stock and beyond that same wall was the dining room area. The bar was only twenty feet from the entrance, and to the right of its entry was a small stage with a dance floor below it. The long cherrywood countertop bar was parallel to an area of a thousand square feet of pure mingle space that at times the dance floor spilled onto. There was a long thin wooden countertop equaling the length of the main bar that separated the people sitting at the bar from those in the mingle space. To the left of this socializing area, several booths lined a wall with large windows above so you could usually see who was waiting in line through them. There was also a mini bar in the corner and a small event room in the back near the restrooms, just across the end point of the main bar. The doors to the event room were always open, so you could walk through it to get to the restaurant or vice versa. When the place got too packed, I¡¯d walk that way to avoid bumping into people. Live bands played rock and popular dance tunes every weekend. The lead guitarist played a wireless electric guitar and even walked outside to play his solos before coming back inside to finish the song. The place got loud at times but never to the point you couldn¡¯t hear a conversation you were having. Since I¡¯ve been hanging out at Sonoma''s for about a year, the bartenders knew my drink¡ªI never had to wait in line. After finding an open spot at the main bar, once the bartender spotted me, a full glass would soon be in my hands. I had to tip them a little extra but it was worth it. How could you not reward that kind of service? The waitresses were always friendly, even pointing out women they thought I should talk to, but I never did. The owner of the bar, Mickey, would always come by to see if I needed anything. I was far from royalty but the Sonoma''s team always made me feel like nothing less¡ªit was nice to feel special. I worked hard each week and reaching the weekend knowing I had Sonoma''s to look forward to was like Christmas Eve for a six-year old.

    This particular Saturday night at Sonoma''s, including Mitch¡¯s freak show, was not unlike the nights before it. I even changed things up, having a glass of Pinot Noir instead of my customary Crown and Seven-Up. Shocked by the order, my waitress asked me if something was wrong. It wasn¡¯t until after I explained my need to cut down on sugar did she agree to write down the wine order on a napkin. Alone in the mingling area and away from Mitch, I placed my wine glass down on the countertop and quickly checked my cell phone. My ears then picked up a familiar guitar chord and when I realized the song was Pink Floyd¡¯s ¡°Wish You Were Here¡±, I raised my wine glass to the band in appreciation. Checking out the scene before me, there weren¡¯t many people in the bar¡¯s social area like usual¡ªthey were all out on the dance floor. A woman, who had her back turned to me and standing fifteen feet away, caught my eye. She had lovely straight yet wavy black hair that flowed down the middle of her back, but she was engaged in a conversation with a male patron. Sonoma''s had its fair share of attractive women, but I looked more forward to going home early than meeting someone, especially on this night. I quickly turned my attention to one of the several high-def flat screen tv¡¯s mounted around the bar to catch the sports highlights of the day. When a commercial came on, my eyes scanned the main bar on my right and then through the windows. I then followed the guitarist as he strummed his wireless guitar outside, walking by the people waiting in line to get in. After finishing my only glass of wine, I wanted to wait another twenty minutes before driving home. I had been at Sonoma''s for a little more than an hour, surrounded by people engaging each other in conversation. The more I witnessed it, the more it hit me to know that love was such a miracle of life. It disgusted me to think I believed in love for as long as I did¡ª a complete waste of my life. I had two college degrees and a CPA license, but it took me too long to learn what everyone else had known all along. My mother used to tell me I had no common sense, and she was right because believing in love took an astounding lack of it. Falling in love to only have your heart broken made no sense at all. I couldn¡¯t put my faith in God yet I believed in love? I was a living breathing contradiction. Sonoma''s taught me every weekend that it was so much simpler to just hook-up. Why bother with love at all? The more I observed the people around me, the more I wondered if they even had the capacity to love someone. And if they did, the importance of knowing what loving someone truly meant. Love never had a chance in this world. Every love story ever written had to be pure fiction¡ªit couldn¡¯t be anything else. Love was like volcanic lightning¡ªa phenomenon. I experienced these kinds of flashbacks now and then, but this was the first time they hit me at Sonoma''s. I guess it was nice to connect with love¡¯s impossibility, so I didn¡¯t feel so out of touch.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    Startled by the soft voice, I looked to my left to see if her greeting was meant for someone else.

    ¡°How are you?¡± She added, slipping me an uncertain glance due to my reaction.

    ¡°You¡¯re talkin¡¯ to me?¡± I timidly tried to verify, looking behind me one more time.

    She nodded with a facial expression that seemed to question my sanity.

    ¡°Oh, hi. I¡¯m good. How are you?¡± I recovered.

    ¡°Good.¡± She smirked. ¡°What are you doin¡¯ standin¡¯ here by yourself?¡±

    Not knowing how to respond, I quickly realized this was the girl with the long straight yet slightly wavy black hair I noticed minutes earlier.

    ¡°I¡¯m actually here with a buddy of mine. He¡¯s somewhere out on the dance floor.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I surprised you,¡± she replied then turning and pointing to where she once stood. ¡°I thought maybe you saw me since I was right in front of you.¡±

    ¡°No worries.¡± I responded, annoyed she implied I should¡¯ve seen her while refusing to admit I did.

    When she approached me, I looked forward to heading home early and didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone to ensure that happened. My eyes met hers only out of courtesy but when they did, I got lost in them for a moment. Her eyes were like two black holes, their softness and depth pulled me inside them. I sensed a story within, like the history of the universe, yearning to reveal her personal antiquity through them. Unable to decipher what her eyes wanted to reveal, I quickly looked away from her face to save mine. When I brought them back to her, my mind went into auto defense mode¡ªshe was hands down one of the most attractive women I had ever seen. She possessed an exotic Asian appearance, standing about five foot two with a slightly curvy but athletic physique¡ªone probably attained from both running and light weights. She wore a black shoulder less blouse that hung loosely over her dark blue jeans. Her mouth was small, surrounded by high but tight cheekbones, with teeth so white you could see them in the dark. Her hair hung just over her right eye, covering the right side of a small forehead then flowing down the left side of her soft face. My hand begged to push the bangs away from her right eye so I could get a good look at what haunted both of them, but her subtle use of eye liner made them look so beautiful that it would be wrong to do so. There was an exasperated look of sincerity on her face¡ªa willingness to engage with me in some way, but my reaction made it difficult for her. With no way to deny her beauty, my heart was now on guard.

    Other than an exchange of pleasantries, I shook myself loose from the physical attraction and made the decision not to ask anything about her. I wouldn¡¯t allow my heart to skip a beat or make the slightest appearance on my sleeve. If she came over to talk to me, it was probably because she was as drunk as Mitch. If I believed in love at first sight, I¡¯m dumber than I even thought I was¡ªI had to shut her down. I would turn this conversation off¡ªI simply wasn¡¯t interested in anything she had to say. I couldn¡¯t care for what lied behind her soulful eyes. A woman this beautiful had to be ugly on the inside and wasn¡¯t worth my time. I¡¯d just be resorting to old habits that already claimed half my life away from me. The very thought of wanting to be close to her scared the fuck out of me¡ªno one knew what love meant anyway. There were plenty of other men here she could talk to. Other men she could reveal herself to, but this man was unavailable. I needed to get out of this conversation¡ªI didn¡¯t even know what to say. I just didn¡¯t want to be rude about it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a tall blonde woman standing at the back exit. I presumed it to be a friend of hers who was waiting patiently so they could leave together. I then looked at my watch to speed her exit up.

    ¡°Were you leaving?¡± I hopefully inquired, moving my eyes towards the back door. ¡°Is that your friend waiting for you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡± Motioning with her hand for her friend to come towards us.

    Among women, there always seemed to be that one friend who always got jealous when the girlfriend they came with was talking to another guy. It¡¯s happened to me a few times¡ªwhen the girl I¡¯m talking to gets dragged away by a jealous friend. This was the first time I actually hoped it would happen. If not, I¡¯d probably have to track down obnoxious Mitch to seal the deal.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± She asked, extending her small hand to mine in anticipation.

    I¡¯ve never had a woman present her hand to me after asking my name before¡ªI was usually the one who did that. It was such an unselfish gesture; I didn¡¯t know how to react other than to oblige her.

    ¡°Landyn.¡± I said, meeting her soft hand within mine then quickly letting go.

    ¡°Landyn¡­This is my very good friend, Debbie.¡±

    We exchanged pleasantries and greeted each other with a swift handshake as well, but with great relief. Since she never told me her name, it seemed the only reason she approached me was so she could introduce her friend. Her pleasantness now made a lot more sense and I started to feel bad for being standoffish. Debbie stood about six feet with a slight muscular tone. Her face was long but tight, and she wore a white top with dark blue jeans. Her short blonde wavy hair flirted with her bare sunburned shoulders yet never touched them. Debbie was attractive but she was too tall for my taste. Now, I had to figure my way out of having a conversation with Debbie. At least it seemed my night would end the way I wanted it to¡­early.

    ¡°And I¡¯m Anya.¡± She announced, throwing my newly formed theory to the wayside.

    ¡°Anya.¡± I nodded, unwilling to admit it was nice meeting her.

    I didn¡¯t care to know her name let alone her friend¡¯s name simply because I just no longer trusted the intentions of women anymore. I came to Sonoma''s only to get out of the house before the start of a long work week. She seemed sweet and very attractive, but this couldn¡¯t be who she really was. Like a dog who only knew abuse from humans, I was afraid to be touched. I was attracted to Denise and she was very sweet to me too. Anya was much more attractive, and that¡¯s why I instinctively knew I couldn¡¯t afford to feel anything for her. No woman has ever truly tried to connect with me before¡ªI was seasoned to know better. If she learned how I believed love should be, she would certainly be turned off by it. I couldn¡¯t be myself around women without escaping harsh judgment so why bother? I knew how things usually turned out for me and I refused to get close to anyone again. All my time had to be devoted to my work, not to anyone or anything else.

    ¡°What brings you girls out here tonight?¡± I asked to stymie the silence.

    ¡°Well, my boyfriend broke up with me today,¡± she said, looking at her friend. ¡°And Debbie, being the good friend she is, got me out of the house tonight.¡±

    I looked up at Debbie and smiled, hoping she decoded the ¡°please save me¡± look on my face. She kindly returned my smile, her blue eyes shining noticeably under the bar¡¯s lighting, but they suddenly increased in size and intensity.

    ¡°Great. Here he comes again.¡± Said Debbie, her eyes now inside her head.

    ¡°Who?¡± Anya asked, looking towards the dance floor behind her.

    ¡°That Creeper right there.¡± She clarified, pointing to someone on the dance floor. ¡°He¡¯s been askin¡¯ me to dance all night. I¡¯ve told him ¡°no¡± at least five times already, but he keeps stalking me around.¡±

    By her description, there could only be one person that fit the ¡°Creeper¡± mold like a glove. When I turned around and saw Mitch making his way towards us, a sheepish grin on his face, this could be a first since I¡¯ve known him¡ªnot being embarrassed by his antics but rather saved by them. I had to find a way to capitalize on Mitch¡¯s creepiness.

    ¡°I hate to admit this but um¡­yeah, that¡¯s my friend.¡± I stated with false pride. ¡°Oh well, you¡¯ll probably want to stay away from me now. He¡¯s super wasted tonight and he can be overbearing. I¡¯ll keep him occupied though and tell him to back off¡­So you can make your escape.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, I appreciate that.¡± Said Debbie, her fearful eyes fixated on Mitch as she placed her arm within Anya¡¯s. ¡°I have to run to the little girl¡¯s room. Did you wanna come with me, Anya?¡±

    When Debbie posed this question to her, I felt relieved. To know she had just broken up with her boyfriend only made it more urgent and necessary for her to go with Debbie¡ªI just wanted to go home.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll be right here.¡± Anya responded, slipping her arm out from Debbie¡¯s and standing closer to me.

    Debbie nodded her head in obvious disappointment, and I felt the same concern for my safety, albeit for different reasons. I wanted to tell Anya¡­My friend is insane! Run for your life! Don¡¯t you know birds of a feather creep together? Now, as her sweet scent made me miss having a woman in my life, I had no idea where to take the conversation from here after banking on her exit. Debbie would probably return in three to five minutes so whatever I said to her, I had to make sure my questions carried as much thoughtlessness as possible¡ªI was on the clock.

    ¡°I see you like Corona.¡± Portraying myself as a simple-minded man who could only point out the obvious.

    ¡°Corona is okay, but over the years I¡¯ve attained a palate for mostly fine wines though.¡±

    I noted she had a palate not only for wine, but for fine wine¡ªthe choice word for pretentious snobs. Why would I even try to keep this up for another minute? To see how much of an elitist, she thinks she is?

    ¡°Do you prefer whites or reds?¡± I asked with my eyes on the people around me, counting down the seconds until Debbie¡¯s reappearance.

    ¡°Well, I love red wines. Cabernets mostly.¡±

    I had a hard time getting past the word ¡°fine¡± after noticing the gold earrings shining loudly on each of her tiny ear lobes. It was easy to discern how much the sun adored her skin, and how well to do she appeared to be. It was even easier to surmise she didn¡¯t work much if she had the time to keep a tan up on the weekdays. The golden jewels in her ears were clearly bought for her by someone¡ªmost likely the boyfriend who had no choice but to dump her¡ªprobably because he couldn¡¯t afford her. Fine wine, golden earrings, impeccable skin, and flawless teeth all added up to things another man had helped to provide her with. Now that he was gone, she was only in mourning of all the conveniences she lost. Anya was your textbook gold-digger, and if I needed something to free myself from her allure, this was my moment of clarity. I didn¡¯t care about any further awkward silences between us¡ªwhatever it took to get her to leave. If she still didn¡¯t after Debbie returned, then my night at Sonoma''s was over.

    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± She spoke, turning to face me.

    ¡°What?¡± I replied a bit rudely.

    ¡°What were you thinking about before I approached you?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from hers.

    ¡°It seemed you were in deep thought.¡± Her black hole eyes gazing up into mine.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in deep thought.¡± I laughed, getting sucked into her eyes again to better feign the sincerity in my response.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t?¡± Delicately shaking her head without her eyes leaving mine

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m just tired¡­That¡¯s all, really. It¡¯s been a long week.¡±

    ¡°What kind of work do you do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m an accountant.¡± I sighed, flashing back to when Denise asked me the same question but receiving a different answer.

    ¡°Are you a CPA?¡±

    Before responding, I took a minute to assess what transpired after telling her I was an accountant, and it didn¡¯t kill her interest. Instead, she had the wherewithal to ask me if I was a CPA. I never enjoyed telling anyone I was a CPA, not wanting to sound pompous. People often assumed all I did was taxes anyway. Whenever I broke the news, I didn¡¯t do tax preparation work, a strange look usually followed¡ªthe kind that doubted I was a real CPA. What really worried me though was her first question¡ªhow did she know I was in deep thought? Then she sent me completely out of orbit with her follow-up question--why would she even care what I was thinking about? I mean, damnit¡­how was she able to see my soul?

    ¡°I am. I work for a CPA firm, but I don¡¯t do tax work.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a business card on you? I¡¯m looking for a new CPA.¡±

    I never expected her, or anyone else I met at Sonoma''s, to ask for a business card so I never brought them with me. I frequented the bar for pleasure, not to do business anyway. I didn¡¯t like having anything in my pockets, usually leaving my wallet at home. All I ever brought with me was my driver¡¯s license and a debit card or cash. I carried my car key and small cellphone around in my hand, leaving my house key in the car. This time, as fate would have it, I accidentally grabbed a business card. It was wedged between three twenty-dollar bills¡ªnoticing it when I paid for my first drink. I was always open to networking and upon learning I could land a possible new client for the firm, it now prevented me from calling it an early night for the moment.

    ¡°I do.¡± Picking it out of my pocket and then handing it to her. ¡°I assume you¡¯re looking for tax return prep services. We can definitely help you with that.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said you didn¡¯t do tax work?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to confuse you¡­I just meant I don¡¯t do tax returns personally¡­But my firm does.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see¡­Actually, my company needs to be audited.¡± She answered, looking at my card. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking for a new auditor.¡±

    ¡°No kidding? Our firm has a great audit department. I run their audit engagements¡­ Mostly on low budgets. So, I can tell you with confidence that our audit services will be very affordable.¡± I perked up, pointing at the number on the card. ¡°That¡¯s the firm¡¯s toll-free number and my cell phone is right below it. It¡¯s probably better if you contact me directly¡­If you¡¯re interested of course. I can put you more quickly in touch with the right person.¡±

    ¡°Thank you sooo much.¡± She smiled, putting the card in her purse.

    ¡°My pleasure.¡±

    Now that business was in the mix, I felt much more comfortable engaging in a conversation with her. I also couldn¡¯t deny I felt a spark inside, but without any time to fan its flames, and only time enough to douse them. The mental scars from Denise always brought me right back to the harsh lesson I learned about falling in love. I had too much to lose now if I fell ¡­or if I merely cared about someone again. Like an uncollectible debt, I had to write off love. It had nothing to do with Anya. I appreciated the way she approached me, and she seemed like a great person. The problem was I felt something and had come too far to ever risk losing myself again¡ªI knew what a spark could do.

    ¡°Do you have experiences with breakups?¡± She asked. ¡°I¡¯m havin¡¯ a hard time with it.¡±

    Her question caught me completely off guard. Now that she was a potential client, I had to provide a shoulder for her.

    ¡°I have¡­They¡¯ve never been easy for me either.¡± I consoled.

    ¡°It¡¯s so hard to let go. We had a very passionate relationship.¡±

    ¡°How long were you guys together?¡± I inquired, fighting back any interest. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡±

    ¡°Five months,¡± she sighed. ¡°but it felt much longer than that.¡±

    When the length of her relationship mimicked mine with Denise, it didn¡¯t ignite a fire within, but when she told me, it felt longer than that, I had to know more.

    ¡°Why did he break up with you?¡± I wondered, reaching into her soft dark eyes. ¡°Did he give you a reason?¡±

    ¡°He said it was because I have two kids.¡± She softly replied, her eyes beginning to bounce like buoys in shallow water.

    After revealing this, she awakened the empath who hibernated within. The way she held me in her eyes, her beauty shone upon me like moonlight upon the sea. Even if she had five kids, I would¡¯ve never been strong enough to break up with her. Did she hide her kids from him in fear of losing his love? It¡¯s the only reason that made any sense for him leaving her.

    ¡°Did he know you had kids or did you not tell him?¡±

    ¡°I told him the night we met.¡± She clarified.

    ¡°And five months into a loving relationship he tells you he has to leave because of your kids?¡±

    ¡°Mm-hmm.¡± She responded, her eyes never leaving mine.

    Upon hearing this, I realized something about her¡ªshe was not the fine wine drinker who lived off the wealth of her boyfriend I believed her to be. How could anyone judge someone, they claimed to love, for situations they could never change? A condition that existed the first day they met? This was the kind of pain that¡¯s nearly impossible to bounce back from. The kind that only sets you up for loneliness. I never wished for anyone to ever go through what I did, especially a woman who had her heart smashed for just being a mother.

    ¡°I¡¯m so very sorry to hear that.¡± I consoled, holding back from saying anything bad about her ex.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least you know now.¡± I sighed. ¡°Some people don¡¯t ever get that.¡±

    ¡°At least I know what now?¡± She shot. ¡°That he left me because I have kids?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I corrected, my eyes diving back into hers. ¡°At least you know he didn¡¯t truly love you.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t love me? We had a very passionate relationship.¡± She exclaimed, pushing back on my assessment. ¡°He used to tell me ¡°I love you¡± all the time.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice of him,¡± I sarcastically acknowledged. ¡°but love has to be a verb before it can become a noun.¡±

    With her tiny mouth slightly agape in disbelief, my eyes were sucked into hers like a star into a black hole. Her grief-stricken gaze never wavered as I waited patiently for whatever words she had left to say¡ªher sudden exit likely imminent.

    ¡°What makes you think he didn¡¯t love me?¡± She posed, her hands now squarely on her hips.

    ¡°It¡¯s not obvious to you?¡± I responded, with the memory of my half a decade struggle wondering the same thing she did.

    ¡°Obvious? Not at all.¡± She whimpered slightly and abruptly extracting a mirror from her purse to casually check her make-up. ¡°What makes you think he didn¡¯t love me?¡±

    I knew this feeling all too well. Little did she know she was asking advice from a broken man. A man who would¡¯ve loved to know this information before it took five years away from him. We waste seconds every day as if they were nothing, but life was too short to be spent wondering what was true and what wasn¡¯t. I wanted to be there for her because no one was there for me. The truth would hurt her, but ultimately set her free.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­¡± I trailed.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that what?¡± She pressed, shaking her head.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that you deserve more.¡± I stated. ¡°You deserve more from someone who says he loves you.¡±

    She then placed her small round make-up mirror back into her purse then brought her eyes back up into mine with sincere concern.

    ¡°Have you ever been in love?¡± She curiously inquired with a look of subtle warmth. ¡°What do you know about it?¡±

    When the redness in her eyes burned me, I began to regret my frankness. Pandora¡¯s box was a mere ashtray compared to mine. Like a fisherman who was passionate about baiting his hook to catch a fish but everyday coming up empty¡ªI was so sick of people losing their zest for life just because they fell in love. I was over Denise, but I wasn¡¯t over the way she changed the way I saw the world. She vanquished my trust in people and my belief in love without a care in the world. I had to release Anya¡¯s eyes from the asylum I created for them with my words.

    ¡°I have¡­Love is everything in this world.¡± I broke, seeing myself in her. ¡°And it should always be based on mutual respect, good communication and trust.¡±

    I expected her to say something. To fight me on what I just said, but silence prevailed as she appeared unable to speak.

    ¡°If he truly loved you, Anya¡± I continued, hoping my words wouldn¡¯t hurt her. ¡°he would¡¯ve accepted the entire package¡ªnot just you, but your kids too. If I know one thing in life, I know that love doesn¡¯t leave you for any reason, especially if you have kids.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever had your heart broken?¡± She asked. ¡°Do you know what it¡¯s like to feel rejected? Like you weren¡¯t good enough?¡±

    I nodded reluctantly before I spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been in love before.¡± I said without pulling my eyes away from hers. ¡°So of course, I have.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you deal with it?¡± She asked. ¡°I¡¯m desperate. It just hurts so much.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t look upon me as a template for recovery¡ªit took me five years to get past my breakup.¡± I admitted shamefully, struggling to keep my eyes within hers while hoping I could help. ¡°Losin¡¯ her was tough but the loss of seein¡¯ the world, the way I did before I met her, was harder on me. She left me jaded by how the world works.¡±

    ¡°Jaded by how the world works? How so?¡±

    ¡°How it seems people seek the wrong things in partners¡ªhow they fall in love then get married for all the wrong reasons.¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s not about love anymore, but more about what someone can get rather than what someone can give.¡±

    Her face spoke of her immersion into all I had to say, but it rattled me enough to fear I was coming off as a bitter man more than a wise one.

    ¡°I apologize if I sound negative, but that¡¯s what I¡¯ve taken from my own personal experiences. It¡¯s more my reality than it is anyone else¡¯s.¡± I clarified then looking down at the floor suddenly unable to face her. ¡°My advice to you would be this¡ªto just look at your heartbreak as a rite of passage; something to be grateful for.¡±

    ¡°Grateful?¡± She grumbled, slowly shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Be grateful because you¡¯re now that much closer to finding the love you deserve than you were before you met him.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t tell if I had lost her or if she just witnessed the second coming of Christ. She would either walk away now or rip me a new one. Who tells anyone to be grateful for a broken heart and expects to be taken seriously? As crazy as it sounded now, gratefulness would come later for her. It was absurd to think she would be appreciative of the emotional pain her ex caused her anytime soon. I just wanted to offer her some hope. She was simply too beautiful to lose years over a heartache like I did. Before I could further clarify what I meant, she hit me with another question.

    ¡°What do you mean people marry for the wrong reasons?¡±

    ¡°Whether it¡¯s for reasons of vanity, money or status, people marry based on what our society holds most dear these days.¡± I elaborated. ¡°People don¡¯t truly marry for love anymore. They only marry to have kids or because they feel pressure from others. They only get married because they¡¯re afraid to end up alone or because it¡¯s practical or convenient then call it ¡°love¡± when it¡¯s anything but. They completely neglect the main artery that brings blood into the heart of any relationship, let alone a marriage.¡±

    ¡°Main artery?¡±

    ¡°They discard their emotional needs for superficial ones.¡± I explained, her eyes still fixated on mine. ¡°They fail to consider having common interests and bank on their physical attraction to last forever. Having mutual respect in a relationship has become a luxury, not a need. They sacrifice huge pieces of who they truly are and choose to fall in line with what others think they should be. From where I¡¯m standing, it¡¯s easy to see.¡±

    ¡°What is?¡± She asked, her body edging closer to mine.

    I then looked away and shook my head, unable to meet her gaze.

    ¡°No one truly believes in love anymore.¡±

    ¡°Do you believe in love?¡± She inquired softly, her eyes finding their way back into mine.

    ¡°I used to,¡± now trying to disconnect myself from her. ¡°but after my last relationship, I¡¯ve learned if it exists¡­If it truly does exist¡­It¡¯s meant for other people to have.¡±

    In an attempt to pull myself away, I surveyed our surroundings and noticed most people were either out on the dance floor or perched at the main bar. We stood virtually all by ourselves, lost in a world of our own while I tried to fend off connecting on a level unprecedented.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t a physical attraction just as important as having common interests?¡± She dug deeper, tugging downward on her jeans.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m just an idealist, or maybe my mind has undone reality?¡± I smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI¡¯m not trying to minimize the importance of having a physical attraction. Having those butterflies in your stomach every time you see the person you love is important too. I just feel through common interests and ideas, you can develop a shared mutual respect for one another. No matter how hard or boring things may get, at least you see eye to eye with each other on other things to get you through it. I think that¡¯s the formula for a love and marriage that lasts forever.¡±

    ¡°A physical attraction is never enough?¡±

    ¡°If you want a love that lasts forever.¡± I explained, not knowing where this would take me. ¡°You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but how could a man ever see things through your eyes if he doesn¡¯t understand who you really are? Those things that hold the most value to you?¡±

    I thought she would cut me off, but instead gazed up at me in wonder like a shooting star. All I could do now was continue to satiate her interest.

    ¡°How long will a marriage last after physical appearances naturally fade away? If I can connect with her on the things that matter the most, her beauty is eternal. Anyone in this bar tonight can get laid, but I bet none of them knows what it means to love someone. It takes a real leap of faith to fall in love in today¡¯s world. You have to be willing to die for it.¡±

    ¡°Is a physical attraction important to you?¡± She spoke, her eyes falling then rising back into mine.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take an average lookin¡¯ woman, one I share interests and ideas with, over a woman who everyone else sees as beautiful.¡± I said. ¡°I have the courage enough to trust in what I know to be beautiful anyway¡ªit¡¯s in the eye of the beholder.¡±

    She looked at me the same way a stray dog did to a stranger who fed them. Her simple request for a business card opened me up, exposing thoughts I had no idea I could communicate. They all resided in the truth for me, a painful one¡ªlike Fantine who went from believing in love to losing her teeth trying to keep a dream, that died for her, alive for her daughter, Cosette. For the first time, I felt a true connection with a woman, naturally gravitating to her like a planet to a star.

    ¡°Is it alright that I¡¯m talking to you?¡± She asked, bringing me down to earth. ¡°Am I ruining anything?¡±

    ¡°Ruining anything?¡± I questioned.

    ¡°Did you wanna talk to other women?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to meet anyone.¡± I clarified.

    ¡°Good.¡± She smiled. ¡°I¡¯m having fun talking to you. I feel safe around you.¡±

    She didn¡¯t have Denise¡¯s dimples, but her smile was prettier. Even the sound of her voice brought me pleasure. With every word she absorbed from me, I had never felt safer. So much so, I told her things I didn¡¯t know I could.

    ¡°I like your shirt.¡± She complimented, placing her hand on my left bicep. ¡°You look nice in black.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I replied, looking shyly away.

    Without positive reinforcement in my life, it was hard for me to accept a compliment, but it held weight because it came from her. Denise never complimented me the night we first met¡ªonly commenting on how quiet I was. Even during our relationship, she never told me I dressed nice or that she liked a single thing about me. In fact, even Sara never really complimented me when we were together. I wanted to return the favor but was afraid to tell her how great she looked. I didn¡¯t believe in playing games, but unfortunately everyone else did. My past grabbed my throat and threatened to cut me off from breathing the air she gave, and it wasn¡¯t her fault at all. Regardless of my past¡¯s stranglehold, I couldn¡¯t deny this simple fact about Anya¡ªI¡¯ve met women I considered to be cute and even women I believed to be pretty, but this was the first time I ever met a woman who I found to be beautiful.

    ¡°I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. Why play games? Either you like someone or you don¡¯t, right?¡± Divulging her in response to my sudden silence. ¡°I agree with you. People do marry for the wrong reasons. As far as love goes¡­I¡¯m not sure what to believe anymore.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I overstepped my bounds with all I¡¯ve said. I just¡­¡± I paused; putting my hand gently upon her right arm. ¡°I just know how you feel.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t overstep your bounds at all,¡± she smiled, capturing my eyes within hers. ¡°I¡¯ve just never heard those things from a guy before.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t let that get out. I have a reputation to uphold here.¡± I joked.

    ¡°Really?¡± She smiled sweetly, her eyes squinting.

    ¡°What that reputation is though, I don¡¯t quite know.¡± I teased.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± Shaking her head, her eyes never straying from mine. ¡°I didn¡¯t think guys thought that way.¡±

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m not your typical guy.¡± I said, taking my hand away from her arm in fear of judgment.

    ¡°Can I be honest with you?¡± She asked, her soft hand sliding gently down to my left forearm.

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°I was really hopin¡¯ you would see me and say hello.¡± She confessed, her delicate hand feeling like it was meant to be there.

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Didn¡¯t you see me standing there?¡± She smiled, hitting me softly on my arm.

    I wanted to tell her the truth¡ªI did see her standing there. I just didn¡¯t want her to know why I couldn¡¯t talk to her.

    ¡°I saw you there.¡± I confessed.

    ¡°You did not!¡±

    ¡°I did!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you!¡± Stomping her foot.

    ¡°I know this may sound strange, but I never approach women here. Please don¡¯t take it personal.¡± I explained, bringing my hand to touch her left shoulder to show my sincerity.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever approach anyone?¡± She wondered without pulling away from my touch.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna bother them. I¡¯m sure after what I¡¯ve just said about love, you probably wanna hightail it outta here and I wouldn¡¯t blame you.¡± I said, hoping my explanation made sense to her. ¡°I totally get how my views sound pretty irrational, but I don¡¯t play games with people. I am who I am¡ªI refuse to pretend.¡±

    Anya examined me deeply, attempting to dive into my soul.

    ¡°I loved what you had to say, and I don¡¯t wanna leave.¡± She stated.

    Upon hearing these words, I felt a sudden ember inside me¡ªone I¡¯ve never felt before. Feeling the need to retreat, I had to gather my thoughts before speaking another word.

    ¡°Please pardon me for a minute. I have to use the restroom.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± She nodded.

    Meeting Anya felt comparable to seeing a ghost¡ªit scared me but a relief to know there was life after death. How could her pain burn me too without the belief I¡¯ve just experienced the connection of a lifetime? She represented a crossroad¡ªdo I respect my past by leaving her or do I pay its respects by trying to be her hero? Stars we couldn¡¯t see were aligning for me to give her a chance by ripping to shreds my lethal fear of unrequited love. To take a monster leap of faith I never thought I¡¯d be strong enough to take again. This had to be it; our meeting years in the making¡ªthe true reason my other relationships never worked out. We¡¯re given only a few precious moments in life and mine was finally here. One made solely for me with a design so perfect it brought tears to my eyes. It just felt so good that I was right about love¡ªthat there was a reason I believed in its magic for all those years before Denise. If I let this moment pass me by, I¡¯d simply miss out on my reason for being. I¡¯d have to wait another thirty years for a moment like this¡ªif it ever came again. There was no uncertainty about this, just a duty to believe in love one more time. There was no way this couldn¡¯t be. There was no way two people could be so open talking about love without an interest to see if it was possible for them. I couldn¡¯t wait to get back out there. I missed her scent. I missed her voice. I missed her touch. I missed her smile. I even missed the way she stomped her foot at me. I just missed her already¡­A woman I had just met.

    Don¡¯t we all have our moment eventually? When all the things that never made sense in our lives finally did? When the road less travelled suddenly took us on the right path? Was it possible I¡¯ve just met someone who needed to believe in love as much as I did? How could our painful pasts and paths be explained otherwise? She was beautiful on the outside, but I believed an even greater beauty existed within her. I thought of many questions to ask, wanting to know more things about her so I could plan a great date for us. As I made my way to seize the moment, I held back the excitement in her revealing the beauty in what these things were. Our connection felt like an out of body experience, unworldly; the kind that hopes, wishes and dreams were made of.

    Feeling like a part of the human race again, I was twenty feet away when I saw Mitch with his arms flailing about, engaging in an animated conversation with Anya. After exposing the foundation of all I believed in without judgment or shame, Mitch threatened to destroy what we just discovered. When I reached them, his voice only got louder.

    ¡°Show him!¡± He barked at her.

    ¡°I was goin¡¯ to¡­¡± She whimpered barely enough to be heard.

    ¡°Hey, what are you doin¡¯? Calm down.¡± I said to Mitch, pushing him away from her.

    ¡°Show my friend.¡± Mitch demanded. ¡°Show him.¡±

    As if it was all in slow motion, Anya raised her left hand upwards as if to wave good-bye. She then twitched her finger begrudgingly back and forth, particularly her ring finger¡ªexposing one of the most stunningly lavish diamond wedding rings I had ever seen.

 CHAPTER 17 ~ SUNSETS

    When I saw Anya¡¯s ring, my heart dropped into my bowels. The truth was simply this¡ªI should¡¯ve known better. To become irrational after feeling a spark all because a woman talked to me about love was nothing less than psychotic. After thirty-seven years of disappointments, I had no business believing in a moment meant for me. She could¡¯ve never showed me her ring and this would still be all on me. The very first thing I should¡¯ve looked for was a rock on her finger. I noticed the gold earrings, but not the sparkling diamond wedding ring? Not to mention, I¡¯ve never met an available woman who was that open to having a deep conversation about love upon meeting. That alone should¡¯ve told me she was unavailable. The ¡®L¡¯ word petrified Denise even after we experienced the most intimate act two people could ever share. No one in their right mind puts themselves out there by talking shamelessly about love unless they¡¯re a single loser¡­like me. A brain existed inside my skull, but when it came to matters of the heart, I¡¯d fall deaf, blind, and dumb all at once. Just seconds ago, I was dreaming about a future date with destiny, now, this special moment of mine turned out to be my most moronic by far, in a lifetime full of them.

    ¡°I was gonna tell you.¡± Anya defended. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t even think twice about it. I¡¯m sure you were.¡± I responded. ¡°I was so into our conversation it didn¡¯t even dawn on me. Honestly, I don¡¯t even know how I could¡¯ve missed it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d understand if you didn¡¯t wanna talk to me anymore.¡± She said, her head downcast.

    ¡°We can still talk as friends if you¡¯re okay with that.¡± I told her. ¡°I was gonna head home before we started talkin¡¯ anyway. I¡¯m only planning on stickin¡¯ around for another ten minutes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m okay with that. I understand.¡± She replied, her eyes jumping back to life.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to some real chicks, dude.¡± Mitch interjected. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time on this¡­this trash.¡±

    She didn¡¯t defend herself as her eyes hit the floor again. Fearing he might go off on her, especially in his current drunken state, I aimed to downplay what happened. Sure, I was disappointed but there was no need to give birth to a whale over it.

    ¡°Hey Mitch, back off, alright?¡± I directed him. ¡°I¡¯m leavin¡¯ soon anyway. There¡¯s no reason to be an asshole. We were just talking.¡±

    Mitch gave Anya a sideways glance she never saw then vacated the scene. As her eyes remained on the floor, it reminded me of the times my eyes used to do the same. When she offered nothing further to say, not even to defend herself, her understanding carried a silent sincerity to it. I appreciated Mitch looking out for me, but it wasn¡¯t needed. I¡¯d never be quick to fall in love with a woman again anyway¡ªlet alone one I couldn¡¯t have. I mean, I was stupid at times, but not that stupid. I refused to ever relive the disappointment of Denise through someone else. Especially, having all those murderous thoughts when I knew the woman I loved was in the arms of another man. In her defense, our conversation had downhill momentum at breakneck speed. I couldn¡¯t blame her for not wanting to stop¡ªwe both lost the ability to do so anyway. It was cool of Mitch to look out for me, but he was always looking for excuses to disrespect women so I couldn¡¯t trust his motive. I met and hung out with him at Sonoma¡¯s, but we didn¡¯t grow up together and have known each other for only a year¡ªI hardly knew the guy. We both had some shitty luck with women, but I didn¡¯t carry the disdain for them that he did¡ªnot even close. I didn¡¯t want any woman to see him as a reflection of who I was.

    ¡°I apologize for his behavior.¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°He looks for reasons to be disrespectful to women, especially when he¡¯s drunk.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. He¡¯s your friend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure if I can call him a friend. I just know him from hangin¡¯ out here, that¡¯s all.¡± I told her. ¡°He was out of line.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She reassured yet still shaken.

    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± She perked up, her dark eyes widening inside mine.

    ¡°Why are you being unfaithful to your husband?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not happy.¡± She sighed, her eyes now darting back and forth.

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°He promised me before we got married that when he started his business, I¡¯d never have to work¡ªthat my job would be to raise our kids,¡± she claimed. ¡°but I work all the time.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect¡­that¡¯s no reason to cheat on your husband.¡± I stated, shaking my head.

    She looked at me with disbelief etched on her face¡ªthis didn¡¯t seem like something she ever heard before.

    ¡°You both made vows to each other, in front of God and family, that ¡®for better or for worse until death do you part¡¯.¡± I elaborated.

    ¡°What are you tryin¡¯ to tell me?¡±

    ¡°So, when the worse comes around, you bail?¡± I answered. ¡°It sounds like your husband is a hardworkin¡¯ ambitious man who is just tryin¡¯ his best to provide for his family and you¡¯re punishin¡¯ him for it.¡±

    ¡°He promised me I wouldn¡¯t have to work. He misled me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain about most things, but I¡¯m certain he was being sincere when he made that promise to you. He just had no idea how much his business would demand.¡± I said, preparing for her to leave me on the spot. ¡°Why would you penalize him all because you had to help to pitch in? That¡¯s what a marriage is all about¡ªit¡¯s a partnership. I¡¯m sorry, but your reason for straying are completely selfish if you ask me.¡±

    Anya observed my face with a respectful silence, seemingly saying ¡®I can¡¯t believe what you just said to me¡¯. Hell, I couldn¡¯t believe what came out of my mouth and I even brought God into it! Although I felt like a fraud, this was more than about God. I disagreed with her rationalization so much, she only confirmed that love was the greatest lie going around. She seemed hurt by my words, but she needed to hear them as much as she needed to stop cheating on her husband. If she wasn¡¯t happy with her marriage, she should ask for a trial separation, if not a divorce, and stop jeopardizing her character. What would her kids think of her if they knew? These love triangles usually ended in tragedy, and by being brutally honest I was attempting to save her life.

    ¡°There¡¯s some¡­¡± She tried to explain, but I was too fixated on what she told me and cut her off.

    ¡°I¡¯m no expert on marriage, but if you¡¯re unhappy why don¡¯t you just get a divorce? Why sacrifice your character, and even your safety? These kinds of relationships can put you in harm¡¯s way and can hurt a lot of people.¡±

    Before she could answer, Debbie abruptly returned from her extended bathroom break.

    ¡°Let¡¯s leave!¡± She demanded with flushed cheeks. ¡°Stage Five Creeper won¡¯t leave me alone. I keep tellin¡¯ him I¡¯m married but he won¡¯t stop! I can¡¯t take it anymore! Let¡¯s go please.¡±

    Anya nodded with reluctance then turned to me with a look of despair.

    ¡°I have to go.¡±

    ¡°I totally understand.¡± I said, a bit disappointed as well. ¡°Take care of yourself. Good luck.¡±

    ¡°You too. Goodnight.¡± She said, then quickly darted out with Debbie through the bar¡¯s back exit just behind them.

    ¡°Hey, where¡¯d the blonde married bitch go?¡± Spit Mitch, his forehead beading with sweat.

    ¡°She¡¯s gone.¡± I told him. ¡°You managed to scare them both off. You should be proud.¡±

    ¡°I wanna smack you.¡± He said, trying to maintain his balance as he raised the backside of his hand.

    ¡°I¡¯m gettin¡¯ outta here too.¡± Shaking my head.

    ¡°Are you mad?¡± He spit again, putting his arm around me. ¡°You should thank me¡ªthey¡¯re both no good.¡±

    ¡°How would you know?¡± I replied, trying to squirm out from under his arm.

    ¡°I¡¯ve dated married women before.¡±

    ¡°What? You¡¯ve dated married women before?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­Like four of em¡¯.¡± Informing me with eight fingers.

    ¡°Dude, that¡¯s beyond wrong.¡±

    ¡°Fuck em¡¯ It works beautifully.¡± Trying to convince me. ¡°No commitment.¡±

    ¡°Debbie and Anya are both happily married. They¡¯re not lookin¡¯ to hook up with anyone. They just needed a break from their kids.¡± I countered. ¡°How could you even do somethin¡¯ like that?¡±

    ¡°When you have mud on your shoes do ya walk in the house or do ya take off your shoes before you walk inside?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Where are you goin¡¯ with this?¡± I smirked, shaking my head at him in disbelief.

    ¡°Same applies with datin¡¯ married women, bro. You have your fun, then you dump em¡¯. You don¡¯t wanna track mud in your house¡­And let me tell you somethin¡¯ else.¡±

    ¡°After your muddy logic? What?¡±

    ¡°If they were happily married, they wouldn¡¯t be here of all places¡ªa fuckin¡¯ singles bar.¡± Claimed Mitch, pointing his unstable finger at me.

    ¡°Well don¡¯t worry. Thanks to you, I doubt they¡¯ll ever step another foot inside this place again.¡± I assured him. ¡°Congratulations.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­Thanks, dude!¡± He responded without sensing any of my sarcasm.

    ¡°You¡¯re a real piece of work.¡±

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t leave yet¡­Come hang out with me and Alice,¡± he said. ¡°she¡¯s around here somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I have to head home. I¡¯m really beat.¡± I replied, knowing full well he wanted to bum a free ride off me.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m gonna bum a ride home from Alice anyway.¡± He notified, then dropping what was left of his drink on the floor. ¡°Ah¡­Damn it. Hey Land, see ya next weekend?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I lied, unsure of when I¡¯d be back again at Sonoma¡¯s.

    Anya called me the next morning, leaving me a voice mail saying she felt terrible about what happened. I had totally forgotten I gave her my business card with my cell number on it. It was nice to hear her voice, but I had no intentions of ever returning her call. Afraid I¡¯d run into her again at Sonoma¡¯s, I decided a week later to call her back to say I got her message and that I wasn¡¯t mad at her¡ªI didn¡¯t want to create an uncomfortable environment for her. I tried to fight back against my empathetic nature, but I didn¡¯t take a woman¡¯s desire to remain a virgin into marriage when she offered it to me. I sent roses to a girl on Valentine¡¯s Day I never dated just to make her feel good and I considered another¡¯s emotional pain over my own. It was only a matter of time before I would return her call¡ªI didn¡¯t want her to think I was a jerk. I needed some time to think about calling her back because she was a married woman, but I knew nothing would ever happen between us anyway. Even though I claimed to be over Denise, a part of me still struggled with her absence. After Anya told me she was married, it extinguished the fire inside for her. We had a brief conversation. She apologized for having to run out of there and then asked if I¡¯d meet her for one drink as friends. Since I felt certain I¡¯d never take it past a friendship, I agreed to meet her for just one.

    It was a far cry from the date I envisioned the night I met her, but I believed my heartbreak could bring her some comfort and help save her marriage. Anya suggested we meet at a small restaurant and bar called Paseo in Manhattan Beach, a little over an hour drive from Newport Beach. She lived in Dana Point, and had a twenty minute longer drive than I did. After arriving at the restaurant ten minutes early, I waited in my car and thought of ways to help her. Anya needed to know what the pain of having someone you love, in the arms of another, felt like. How torturous those thoughts can be for the one being cheated on and how much she hurt her husband. Her spouse seemed like a good hardworking man who was just trying to be a good provider. She needed to hear this from a man who never had the good fortune of having kids and a marriage born of love. I contributed nothing to this world other than for myself, but she was a wife and mother. She had money, two kids, likely a beautiful home and obviously a loving hardworking husband. If anyone should feel unfulfilled, it should be me¡ªhaving nothing close to what she did. If I could show her the schism between our lives, it should help put things in proper perspective for her. I also hoped she could give me a woman¡¯s point of view to better explain what happened with my last relationship. Knowing I could take care of her now, I sometimes still fantasized about Denise returning to me after admitting she made a mistake. This meeting provided us with an opportunity to reclaim some happiness, and sanity, we¡¯ve lost over the years.

    A marriage is like a garden, you need to care for the small flowers just as much as the large trees and unfortunately, married people didn¡¯t understand that. It couldn¡¯t be all work and no play. There had to be some playtime in there with each other, not always with friends and family. If they didn¡¯t have common interests and mutual respect, their marriage was doomed like a ship run aground in shallow waters. Anya and her husband needed to rediscover what brought them together in the first place. They could again share the activities they used to love doing together before they had kids¡ªbefore the stresses of life claimed their love. When life becomes mundane then love runs a risk of dying. I¡¯ve seen it happen, not only with my parents who now slept in different rooms, but also as evidenced in the high divorce rates. I planned to remind her of all the things that sprouted love for her husband¡ªhow they could never whither away and die. Her feelings for him were like a candlewick just begging for a flame. Being an advocate for love and marriage, I found it my duty to ignite a spark inside for her husband again. By cheating on him she risked an inferno, one that threatened to not only incinerate her marriage, but her family as well. Not to mention, she could be a potential client and establishing a good reputation for the sake of the firm¡¯s business was imperative.

    Just before setting foot inside the restaurant, a majestic orange sun falling out of a purple sky and into an azure sea caught my eye. It seemed close enough to touch, but much like love for me up to this point, it was an impossibility. As its splendor threatened to postpone my meeting with Anya, I pulled myself away from one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Upon entry, the smell of freshly baked bread and tomato sauce permeated my senses, however my stomach failed to budge. The next thing I took note of stopped me in my tracks¡ªthere was no hostess at the front to greet me. Fearing I needed a reservation to walk in, it momentarily brought back memories of my dinner in Sacramento with Denise; how missing the onramp back to Citrus Heights upset her. Veering my eyes over to the left of the restaurant, I saw a large, but empty, dining room area illuminated only by the glow of flickering candles on each table¡ªits romantic ambiance giving me goosebumps. Shifting my eyes straight ahead past the hostess less podium, I spotted a walkway that led directly to the restroom area¡ªgood to know in case she wasn¡¯t aware of where they were. I then peered over to my right and there it was¡ªan enormous bar that had to comprise at least a third of the entire establishment. It also provided ample evidence of my sudden nervousness¡ªit should¡¯ve been the first thing I noticed the second I walked in. There were only a couple of people sitting at this wooden, plasma TV laden monstrosity¡ªtwo women at the end of the bar. After I disregarded the chance a host would magically appear, I made my way towards the bar area as both women came into clearer focus. Even before she lifted her head, I quickly recognized her dark layered hair. Although I saw her for the first time a week ago, her face was like the sunset I saw before entering the restaurant¡ªone of a kind.

    ¡°Well, hi.¡± She greeted, a glass of red wine in front of her.

    ¡°Hello stranger.¡± I smiled. ¡°This is a nice place.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± A smile breaking on her face too. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for showin¡¯ up!¡± I replied, smiling.

    ¡°Landyn, this is my good friend, Carolyn.¡± She presented, putting her hand gently on the back of the woman who sat next to her.

    Upon rising from her chair, Carolyn extended a hand out to mine. She was rail thin, standing about five feet tall, and possessing a runner¡¯s physique with petite shoulders. A thin necklace laid upon her tan breastplate and she wore a thin yellow sundress only a person with her figure could look good in. She had brown round eyes and a narrow face with a bantam chin. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder about two things¡ªdid they come together and why was she here?

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Landyn.¡± Greeted Carolyn. ¡°I just wanted to make sure she wouldn¡¯t be here alone. I have to go now. Have a nice time.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you, too. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll call you tomorrow.¡± She announced as Carolyn walked away.

    As we both bid Carolyn farewell, a part of me felt bad she left us.

    ¡°I hope I¡¯m not the reason she had to go.¡± I said. ¡°She is more than welcome to stay.¡±

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s on call at the hospital¡ªshe¡¯s a doctor.¡± She informed me. ¡°It¡¯s my first time here and I wasn¡¯t sure if this place would be packed or not so I asked if she¡¯d come to save you a seat. I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°I¡­Umm¡­Of course not.¡± I answered a bit stunned, then taking the seat next to her. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    She smiled at me but then quickly looked away to reach inside her purse. It really surprised me to learn she had Carolyn meet her here for two reasons. One being, she feared I might stand her up, something I¡¯d never do to anyone but may have happened to her before. And second, to ensure this meeting took place. The thoughtfulness in her thinking ahead was not something I was used to.

    ¡°How do you know Carolyn?¡±

    ¡°We used to work together.¡± She revealed, while checking her phone before placing it back in her purse. ¡°We¡¯ve known each other for over ten years.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s familiar with this place since she lives here in Manhattan Beach.¡± I surmised.

    ¡°Actually, she¡¯s a neighbor of mine.¡±

    ¡°Carolyn lives in Dana Point?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°She drove all the way out here?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a great friend.¡± Anya clarified.

    Carolyn had to be the greatest friend in the history of friendships. Sitting next to Anya, her perfume tantalized my senses so greatly, it made me wish I could sit closer to her. I then noticed she wore white pants and a dark blue neck top with scalloped edges. Her sense of style reminded me of Sara¡¯s, who had a great fashion sense, but Anya¡¯s bordered spectacular. Intently, I observed she was wearing her ring and had a smaller pair of silver earrings on this time around. I then looked ahead into the huge window that allowed us to watch a star fall without the slightest squint. The atmosphere around me seemed surreal, almost heavenly, calming my nerves.

    ¡°Nice sunset.¡± She declared, turning her face to mine.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± I smiled while returning my eyes to the view before us.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, I never get to see these.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Asking then bringing my face to hers as the sunset resided in her eyes.

    ¡°Just too busy¡­I guess,¡± she said, gazing outside the window. ¡°Time never allows it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s too bad.¡± Replying as she turned to face me, her dark eyes having swallowed the sun.

    ¡°It is¡­I didn¡¯t know they could be so serene.¡±

    ¡°They have a beauty all their own,¡± I said, my eyes finding comfort within hers. ¡°always unique¡ªnever the same.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice way of putting it.¡± She smirked, then returning her eyes to outside the window.

    They happen each day, but I never watched sunsets anymore¡ªI had no one to share them with. I used to catch many of them whenever I drove over the bridge on my way home from college. But I never had proof of their beauty¡ªI witnessed them alone. There was no romantic element with her so I couldn¡¯t say I shared this captivating occurrence with a true witness, but it was nice to share it with someone. As the sun¡¯s soft fading light slightly reflected upon us, it gave her face and eyes a healthy glow. I could only feel sorry for the falling sun knowing its beauty could not measure up to Anya. Once I learned she was married, I had no romantic feelings for her, but I couldn¡¯t deny an obvious truth¡ªshe was beautiful. Her husband had to be one of the luckiest men alive and would have to be beyond devastated if he knew she strayed with another¡ªI know I¡¯d feel that way if I were in his shoes. I remembered how broken up I was about Sara and Denise¡ªI¡¯d never wish that on another man. Tonight, I had to find a way to bring her back into his arms where she belonged. My eyes only observed her in an unselfish, complimentary and respectful manner. She simply wasn¡¯t mine to see in any romantic sense. I planned to make her aware there was no romantic interest within, but she spoke before I could.

    ¡°Would you like to have a glass of wine with me?¡± She inquired while touching her face. ¡°I apologize for starting before you, but I got here a half hour early. I¡¯d like to have another if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Is there a wine list to order from?¡± Wondering aloud, knowing most places that served wines had to have that around somewhere.

    ¡°I have it right here¡­¡± she paused, looking at me peculiarly. ¡°In my hand.¡±

    ¡°Ah, theeeere it is.¡± I smiled, hoping she didn¡¯t pay attention to my flushed cheeks.

    She was definitely a wine connoisseur and deservingly so, since I couldn¡¯t even tell the difference between a wine list and a menu. Before I could produce another foot in the mouth moment, her perfume aroused my senses as she edged closer to me. With the wine list still in her hands, she laid it down on the counter between us so we could both look it over together. By her unselfish gesture, I was instantly transported to the many times I¡¯ve visited a book store. How I envied the closeness of couples sitting together on a large cozy loveseat reading from the same book. With such a simple act, just Anya being Anya, it awakened me to some of the good things about life I¡¯ve been missing out on. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t see it as a triumph but only as a reminder of how lonely I¡¯ve become. It left me feeling like a thief for stealing such a moment¡ªshe didn¡¯t belong to me. The only thing belonging to me was this moment in time.

    As our eyes further scanned the wine list, she treated me as if my palate was just as fine as hers. Fine wine drinkers seemed to be people who looked down upon others. The last thing I expected was one to treat me as an equal. As we considered all the available palate possibilities, I decided to come clean.

    ¡°I have to be honest¡­¡± almost whispering. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s good on here¡ªI¡¯m not too much of a wine drinker. I trust your judgment so let¡¯s have something red.¡±

    ¡°You remembered I like red wines?¡± Her eyes now widening excitedly into mine with her white teeth making an appearance through a breaking smile.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Grinning, puzzled by her reaction. ¡°How could I not?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± She then paused. ¡°You¡¯re a good listener.¡±

    ¡°I try to be.¡±

    It made sense she could care less if I knew what wines were fine, after all she was already married and unavailable. The hardest part was learning she wasn¡¯t a rich pretentious snob¡ªlike the people who knew what the finest wines on the list were. After she made, with great conviction to the bartender, a cabernet sauvignon selection I never knew existed, she shifted towards me and smiled¡ªher right leg now against mine. An obvious accident, I waited for her to pull quickly away, but she kept her knee there for about ten seconds before she did. Unable to ignore how nice it felt, I forced my eyes away from hers and to the wine list lying on the bar.

    ¡°Thanks again for meeting me here tonight.¡± She said, breaking the silence.

    ¡°Thank you for askin¡¯ me to meet you here,¡± I obliged, now noticing her petite pink glossed lips. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry it took me so long to get back to you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I understand. I¡¯m just happy you called me back¡­Considering my circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t we all have circumstances?¡± I reassured. ¡°It¡¯s nice to be able to talk to someone. I had fun hangin¡¯ with you last weekend.¡±

    ¡°I did too. I¡¯m sorry the night had to end the way it did,¡± she responded, her eyes then falling to the floor. ¡°I know your friend doesn¡¯t like me at all.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Mitch¡­He¡¯s a hypocrite.¡± I smiled. ¡°He doesn¡¯t even like himself.¡±

    ¡°I kind of figured so,¡± she laughed. ¡°When a girl isn¡¯t interested, I think a man should stop.¡±

    ¡°So¡­You¡¯re sayin¡¯ persistence doesn¡¯t pay off?¡±

    ¡°Persistence only works if the other person is interested.¡±

    ¡°What if it¡¯s part of his charm?¡±

    ¡°When did actin¡¯ like a creep become charming, Landyn?¡±

    ¡°You got me there.¡± I grinned.

    Although she really didn¡¯t know Mitch, first impressions were important, if not everything. If he continued to disrespect women then the creep label should even have a bar code stuck to him. I may have known his reasons for being the way he is, but it didn¡¯t excuse his behavior. Anya could¡¯ve easily judged me by the company I kept at Sonoma¡¯s that night, but she didn¡¯t. She made her judgments solely on the person she talked with. In the world we lived in, where it was convenient to judge people, it was a quality she had I could only admire. In a day and age where the tangible wins over the intangible, she chose the latter leaving me astonished.

    The bartender then gently slid two glasses of generously poured cabs in front of us. After we thanked him, she raised her glass and gazed up at me.

    ¡°To tonight.¡± She said.

    ¡°To tonight.¡± Responding in kind and lightly touching her glass with mine.

    After we finished our first sip together, unrehearsed yet in perfect tandem, I looked over at her.

    ¡°Have you shared many sunsets with your husband?¡± I asked, initiating the reason why I met her here.

    She shook her head.

    ¡°Many years ago, but not anymore.¡±

    ¡°Why not? I¡¯m sure he¡¯d love to share them with you again.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡ªhe would,¡± she sighed. ¡°but it¡¯s hard when you have kids.¡±

    I could see her point. I¡¯m sure their kids took away most of the time they used to spend together, but shouldn¡¯t she have expected that?

    ¡°That¡¯s when you have to find creative ways to spend time together! After all, he¡¯s your husband and should be your best friend too.¡± I said, making sure her eyes were within mine. ¡°You¡¯re obviously well taken care of. Isn¡¯t that a man worth holdin¡¯ on to?¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Her eyes now straying from mine.

    ¡°You suppose?¡± I snickered. ¡°Do you even realize what you¡¯re in jeopardy of losing? This is why I met you here tonight.¡±

    ¡°Why you met me here?¡± A look of confusion now appearing on her face.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let you throw away your marriage.¡± I proclaimed. ¡°I wanna help you work through your issues with him.¡±

    ¡°How do you expect to do that?¡± Asking then taking a sip from her wine glass.

    ¡°The grass isn¡¯t greener over here¡ªit¡¯s scorched earth.¡± I informed her. ¡°I¡¯ve been on this side for a long time. You have to believe me when I say you have a great thing with him. I¡¯m here tonight because you need to realize that¡­Or you¡¯re gonna lose everything.¡±

    Anya sighed and bowed her head, keeping her eyes away from mine. A few seconds later, they returned.

    ¡°I think marriage¡­¡± She paused. ¡°I think marriage is unrealistic.¡±

    ¡°Unrealistic?¡± Responding in pure disbelief.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Unrealistic.¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s the perfect philosophy then.¡± I said, straightening up in my chair and flattening the front of my shirt with my hands while leaning back.

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± She asked, leaning in.

    ¡°If you think marriage is unrealistic then what¡¯s your incentive to be faithful?¡±¡± I answered. ¡°Since marriages are unrealistic anyway, I mean why ever stop cheating?¡±

    Her eyes met mine with a heavy gaze, like two clouds becoming dense with condensation.

    ¡°Why even get married in the first place if marriages are unrealistic?¡± I inquired as she turned away from me and looked out the front window searching for a sun that already set.

    Appalled by her lack of a defense, I leaned in to make sure she knew where I stood.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe marriages are unrealistic¡­If you truly love someone.¡± I stated.

    Upon my words, she continued to stare blankly at the window and into the night. I recalled when we met, how it felt her eyes wanted to tell me something. When she turned to face me, I realized the reasons we met tonight were for two entirely different reasons.

    ¡°I¡¯m not in love with my husband, Landyn.¡± She disclosed, the redness in her eyes revealing why she provided no response.

    ¡°Have you considered counseling?¡± I asked in a gentle tone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna go,¡± she spoke without hesitating, her eyes on a nearly empty wine glass. ¡°I have no feelings for him¡ªI haven¡¯t felt anything in years.¡±

    ¡°How many years?¡± I wondered, hoping she would look at me again.

    ¡°It¡¯s been so long I can¡¯t even remember.¡± She said, her eyes still away from mine. ¡°When he kisses me, I never kiss him back. I never say ¡°I love you¡± when he says it to me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s that bad, huh?¡±

    Anya gently nodded her head, wiping away at her eyes with both index fingers.

    ¡°How long have you been married?¡±

    ¡°Fourteen years,¡± she answered. ¡°but we¡¯ve been together for twenty¡ªI met him when I was nineteen.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re thirty-nine years old.¡± I calculated.

    Her eyes immediately jumped back into mine and she nodded.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve guessed early thirties.¡± I came clean.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She softly sniffled then smiled.

    ¡°As imperfect as it may be, it seems like you have a nice love story.¡± I remarked. ¡°Our passion for someone naturally fades away over time¡ªit¡¯s normal for married couples to fall out of love. You could get it back, Anya. It¡¯s foolish to believe you couldn¡¯t get it back after being together for so many years. How many children do you have?¡±

    ¡°Two. A boy and a girl.¡± Smiling as she spoke. ¡°Katie is twelve. Andrew, ten.¡±

    ¡°How are they not enough of a reason to fight for your marriage?¡± I challenged. ¡°You have history with this man; whether you¡¯re in love with him or not, you¡¯ll always have that bond with him. Would you want them thinking it¡¯s okay to cheat on their spouses one day because they think marriages are unrealistic?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she nodded. ¡°but they don¡¯t see me as a very loving person.¡±

    ¡°But here¡¯s an opportunity to show them you are!¡± I said enthusiastically. ¡°They need to know how important love is in a marriage¡ªit¡¯s everything. They need to see two parents who love each other¡ªit helps them feel safe.¡±

    ¡°I never kiss him¡ªI won¡¯t especially around them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying make out with each other when they¡¯re around but what¡¯s wrong with a shoulder rub? Or maybe a hug?¡± I clarified. ¡°If you¡¯re affectionate towards him, they¡¯ll believe a love like that exists for them one day. It¡¯s essential to their long-term happiness.¡±

    I felt like a dying star being sucked into her soft black hole eyes. It seemed they still wanted to tell me something else¡ªsomething she couldn¡¯t. I had my parents in mind when I spoke to her. How much their arguments inspired my search for a real love, especially when they started to sleep in different rooms. I put my head down for a few seconds to acknowledge her silence. When I brought my eyes back into hers, I noticed they began to swell with water then overrun. She looked away and quickly wiped a palm against her cheek, but another tear broke free and streamed down her face. An instant regret for sharing my thoughts hit me and I remained silent in fear. I wanted to rub her back but was afraid to touch her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve said anything wrong.¡± I backtracked. ¡°I didn¡¯t see much affection in my home and it created this all or nothing view on love. I never meant for it to upset you.¡±

    ¡°I love my kids,¡± she broke. ¡°They mean everything to me. They are my everything.¡±

    ¡°I can tell.¡±

    ¡°I swear I¡¯m a good mom.¡± She claimed, wiping her eyes again.

    ¡°Without question.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry but I just¡­¡± She hesitated. ¡°I just hate my life.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. It seems like you have¡­¡±

    ¡°Like I have everything, Landyn?¡± She finished my sentence. ¡°Money and things don¡¯t lead to happiness.¡±

    I nodded but was not convinced if she truly believed that. When I failed to respond, she seemed to pick up on my skepticism.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you.¡± She said, shifting her body towards mine.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothin¡¯ to apologize for about last weekend¡ªI¡¯m the one who should apologize to you for getting swept up in it. I totally get it. I¡¯m not judging you.¡±

    Her eyes shifted downwards, and then back up at me.

    ¡°It¡¯s somethin¡¯ else.¡± She announced. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I feel I need to tell you this¡­But I do.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, falling deeper into her soft dark eyes.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t fall out of love with my husband because he broke his promise to me about not having to work when we got married.¡± She paused. ¡°I fell out of love with him because he¡¯s been unfaithful.¡±

    Her revelation rendered me in a state of absolute shock. Her true reason for falling out of love more in line with the kind of person I¡¯ve gotten to know.

    ¡°Wow. I am just so sorry to hear that.¡± Stumbling upon trying to find the right words to say. ¡°That¡¯s the last thing I ever suspected.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s cheated on me three times.¡± Her voice struggling to convey with another tear streaking down her cheek.

    ¡°One time is enough.¡± I comforted.

    ¡°I know.¡± Wiping away the tears from her eyes.

    ¡°This really breaks my heart to hear.¡± Bringing my left hand lightly upon her shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering why I¡¯m still with him¡­¡±

    ¡°Considering you just got out of an affair¡­I must say I am.¡±

    ¡°I have no desire to get remarried¡­I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll just get cheated on again.¡± She explained. ¡°I¡¯m afraid to end up alone¡ªno one wants to be with a divorcee who has baggage. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t raise the kids on my own¡ªjust a lot of reasons, Landyn.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± I responded while doubting their validity only because she seemed so wonderful to me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never told anyone this before,¡± she divulged. ¡°No one knows.¡±

    ¡°Really? I don¡¯t understand.¡± I said. ¡°Why would you choose to tell me?¡±

    She looked down for a few seconds, then returned her delicate eyes into mine before speaking.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help it.¡±

    Having to break away from her gaze, I took a sip from my wine glass and slowly laid it back down. Working in public accounting for nearly seven years, I¡¯ve had to deal with many complex issues but this was by far the most complicated scenario I¡¯ve ever faced. How could a man be capable of cheating on such a beautiful woman? What kind of husband would cheat on the mother of his own children? She was too close to perfection to be unfaithful to¡ªI had to be missing something here. Was she a control freak? Did she purposely withhold love from him and that¡¯s why he sought it elsewhere? Was he not appreciated at home and taken for granted? Was she a slob? Did she break everything in the house she touched? Was she more of a liability than an asset? Was she the biggest bitch on the planet to live with? What man in his right mind would ever cheat on her? Not that she tried to sell me on anything, but as much as my heart bled for her, I couldn¡¯t simply buy what she told me. Something was way off here.

    ¡°Anya?¡± I stated more than I asked.

    ¡°Mmmhmm?¡± Acknowledging me the best she could while working through her emotions.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± Shaking my head.

    ¡°What don¡¯t you get?¡±

    ¡°Why would your husband cheat on you?¡± I bravely inquired, expecting her answer to likely end our evening. ¡°I¡¯ve never known men to just cheat for no reason¡ªespecially on a woman of your stature. It usually takes two to tango.¡±

    ¡°I put on twenty-five pounds when I got pregnant.¡± She answered without hesitation, her eyes never running from mine. ¡°I believe he cheated because I put on too much weight.¡±

    ¡°So, he cheated on you after you had your daughter?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she replied, her eyes now disappearing from mine again like a setting star. ¡°I was pregnant at the time with my son.¡±

    ¡°He cheated on you¡­¡± I trailed off, appalled. ¡°When you were pregnant?¡±

    ¡°Katie was almost two and I was seven months along with my baby boy.¡±

    When she referred to her son as her baby boy, I felt nauseous¡ªlike I was the one cheated on. As I fought back tears of my own, I couldn¡¯t imagine any woman having to deal with such anxiety and sadness during a time that should only be reserved for happiness.

    ¡°During your third trimester?¡± I instinctively recognized in disbelief, still reeling by all she revealed.

    She hung her head, hiding damp cheeks behind her dangling long dark hair, then nodding in affirmation.

    ¡°All these years¡­I¡¯ve just been suckin¡¯ it up.¡± She divulged.

    As much as I tried, I couldn¡¯t muster up a comforting thought to tell her, both afraid to say the wrong thing and to feel more than I already did.

    ¡°My life is really complicated, Landyn.¡± She continued, thankfully breaking the silence I induced. ¡°Just really complicated.¡±

    Her warm yet moist eyes peered into mine not only in obvious sadness, but also with the quiet desperation of someone who wanted to believe love existed as much as I did. Like someone whose own experiences with men, the same as mine with women, led to a desperate hunger for meaning. I then saw someone in her eyes I had never seen in anyone else before¡ªmyself. There was no subtlety to my reflection in them, and not just one part of me but my entire being. The ultimate Freudian experience as my conscious, subconscious and even my unconscious mind were all melded into one. I¡¯ve never felt someone else¡¯s struggle and pain more acutely than I did Anya¡¯s¡ªas if it were my own.

    She forced a small smile then wiped her eyes again before taking the final drink of her wine. I wanted so badly to hold her and to ask if she wanted to go for a quick stroll on the beach; or to somewhere more private. She had her own means of transportation, but we could take a drive along the coast before she left for home so her kids wouldn¡¯t notice she had been crying. I wanted to tell her from this day forward everything was going to be fine. To show her the goodness in this world¡ªthat love did exist in any way shape or form she needed from me. That there was no reason for her to ever hate her life. To take away the burden of any unhappiness she felt that may have affected her kids. I then could not think of a more natural thing to do than to let my intuition and instincts take over from there. Reaching into my pocket and placing two twenty-dollar bills on top of the bar, I then rose from my seat next to her. Ignoring their depth and soul, I again beheld her soft dark eyes, those two sweet spheres I now adored, as they fell into mine for one last time.

    ¡°I have to go.¡± I told her. ¡°I would love to know you better but you¡¯re married. Please lose my number and don¡¯t ever call me again.¡±

 CHAPTER 18 ~ OF SOUND MIND

    After leaving Anya alone at the bar that night, I threw all my energy into work and visited Sonomas much less. I took on audit engagements nobody wanted to run, accepting each with enthusiasm regardless of the stress they created. The toughest part of public accounting wasn¡¯t the complicated audit issues or the hostile clients, but rather the long hours and travel. The minute I got off a flight, I had to jump into a rental car and immediately head over to a client¡¯s office to begin working. By the time I reached their headquarters, I was usually already wiped out. Sitting down all day forced me to exercise after work each night just to stay in shape, making it harder for me to get up in the morning. Unable to get out of bed early enough to grab a cup of coffee, I resorted to using a few over the counter pain relievers with caffeine to get me through those days¡ªscarring my liver instead of my teeth.

    The firm¡¯s Senior Audit Department Manager and my mentor, Kevin Kash, who I worked under for three years before being promoted to Audit Manager, was always interested in hearing about my weekend. I guess he wanted to live vicariously through me since he was married. He stood about five feet ten inches tall and was rail thin, likely from eating carrots and celery sticks throughout the day. His face was long but it easily contained his wide smile. He sported dark thin hair parted down the middle and maintained lengthy sideburns that flowed into a well-groomed goatee. A manager for six years, he was the most senior audit supervisor at the firm. When the news recently broke that one of the partners planned to retire at the end of the next year, he was ecstatic¡ªKevin was next in line to replace him. After the Enron scandal which resulted in Sarbanes-Oxley requiring companies to document their processes and report on their internal control environments, it presented a large local firm like ours with a tremendous opportunity for growth. This development turned the opening for partner into a life altering lucrative position. Although I also had a chance to be chosen for partner, Kevin taught me pretty much everything I knew¡ªthere was no chance the firm would consider me before him. I wasn¡¯t ready and had more to learn before attaining his level of expertise. His being promoted to partner was a win-win for me¡ªmy path would be much easier with Kevin being promoted. The firm bypassed on promoting him last year after the unexpected passing of one of its five partners, making it highly unlikely he would not be considered for the opening this time around. The firm would risk losing Kevin and his clients if they didn¡¯t offer the promotion to him.

    ¡°Hey Land! Did you hit up Sonomas this weekend?¡± Asked Kevin, appearing at my door just before I reached my black leather desk chair inside my office.

    ¡°For the first time in four months, believe it or not.¡± I nodded, taking my laptop out of its computer bag and placing it down on the desk.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± He asked, coming inside then closing the door behind him.

    ¡°It was pretty fun.¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna believe this, but before I started talkin¡¯ to this one girl, I checked her ring finger¡­and there wasn¡¯t a ring on it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a pro now!¡± He laughed. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe that story.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, me neither.¡± I said. ¡°Oh well, it is what it is¡­man, I hate that phrase.¡±

    ¡°What phrase?¡±

    ¡°It is what it is.¡± I clarified. ¡°It¡¯s like admitting things can never change and I might as well just give up.¡±

    ¡°Oh well, it was what it was.¡± Teased Kevin, placing his hands on his hips. ¡°How¡¯s that sound to you?¡±

    ¡°Still unacceptable.¡± I smiled, shaking my head.

    ¡°How¡¯d the Systex audit go?¡± He asked then taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of my desk.

    ¡°Systex? It went well. I¡¯m wrappin¡¯ it up right now.¡± Informing him, while turning on my laptop. ¡°But not without adding a going concern disclosure to the financials though.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d Jack feel about that?¡± He wondered, as he crossed his leg and fiddled with the end of his tan slacks. ¡°I heard he could be a real jerk.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a business owner, Kev. Of course, he didn¡¯t like it and tried to hassle me, but in the end, he understood¡ªhe had to.¡± I said while reaching into my bag for a mouse¡ªI had trouble using my computer without one. ¡°Decreasing revenues, negative operating cash, a negative profit margin along with increasing liabilities for three consecutive years during an up economy? How can I get around that?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t, Land¡ªyou have a responsibility to the bank and to protect the investors.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I told him.¡± I sighed, clicking and moving my mouse to open the Systex file. ¡°We can¡¯t always be right but we¡¯re not always wrong. I don¡¯t have an ego anyway.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t make everyone happy as auditors.¡± Said Kevin, picking at the soles of one of his black shoes. ¡°He would¡¯ve left the firm years ago if you hadn¡¯t stepped in and resurrected that engagement from the dead.¡±

    ¡°He just wanted to be heard.¡± I explained, taking my eyes off the laptop screen and focusing on Kevin. ¡°I¡¯ll always try to see their side of things¡­as long as it¡¯s ethical to do so.¡±

    ¡°The fifty-thousand-dollar engagement fee doesn¡¯t hurt either.¡±

    ¡°Nope. Not at all.¡± I replied, leaning back in my chair then placing my hands on the back of my head.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll make a great partner one day, Land. I¡¯m glad we¡¯re on the same team.¡±

    ¡°If I have any chance to be a great partner, I owe it all to you.¡± I declared; a bit overwhelmed by his kind words. ¡°How¡¯s Sadie? Has she come around?¡±

    He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

    ¡°Not really.¡± He sighed, his head dropping. ¡°I guess it¡¯s just gonna take some more time.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to hear that.¡± I replied, disappointed by the update. ¡°Well, just know this office is always open if you need to vent.¡±

    ¡°Thanks¡­it¡¯s really been eatin¡¯ me up, you know? With our first child on the way. Maybe you can set up a couch in here for me.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what you¡¯re going through right now.¡±

    Kevin and his wife Sadie were having problems. She was a nice person, but a fairly high maintenance spouse who got used to living the good life his senior management salary gave them. When a house they eyed for years came on the market last year, they were unable to place a bid on it because he wasn¡¯t considered for the partner opening. Now that Sadie was one month into her pregnancy, it caused a great rift in their marriage. He tried mightily to bridge the gap between them, but not even flowers, dinner dates and assurances could warm her stance. Since he confided in me, I was well aware of the pressure he faced to make partner. He hustled every day on the job, putting in long hours and knowing every single accounting standard in the book¡ªhe deserved the promotion more than anyone. The only strike against him was his inability to bring in new business¡ªthe most admired skill needed to make partner with the firm. Under all the pressure he had at home, his professionalism remained remarkably intact¡ªI don¡¯t know how he did it. He already had a ton of pressure to deal with here and didn¡¯t need to deal with more pressure from the place that should¡¯ve provided a respite. The firm we worked for was extremely conservative, hiring character employees and not just the scholastically gifted. Even our client base came mostly by referrals from church members. I loved that our firm pursued an ethical clientele but it made us work under unrealistically low budgets. So low, in fact, it felt like we were masquerading as a non-for-profit business. When one of the partners recommended that we consider joining a church group to meet new clients, I chose to invest my time building relationships with lending managers at various banks instead. Wary of being asked to network at church by the God-fearing people at my firm only made me question religion even more.

    Later that afternoon, while leaving the office to visit a client, I ran into Alan Kanian, my firm¡¯s lead partner.

    ¡°How¡¯d your meeting go yesterday with Frank Curtis at West End Bank?¡± He asked, leaving me surprised he remembered, but even at sixty-eight years old, he was still sharp.

    ¡°It went really well.¡± I said. ¡°He has three clients who need audits and another who needs a review done. He referred the work to us.¡±

    ¡°No kidding! Did you reach out to them yet?¡± He wondered, his eyes widening with excitement.

    ¡°I¡¯ve reached out to three of them. One wanted to meet for lunch before they made a decision but two of the potential audit clients accepted over the phone. I¡¯m going to fax the engagement letters over to them today.¡±

    ¡°How much was the engagement bid?¡±

    ¡°Forty thousand each.¡± I informed him, hoping I didn¡¯t bid too high for his taste, but there were things he didn¡¯t know about. Our audit staff began to complain we were setting them up for failure rather than success with our ridiculously low budgets. Afraid to lose any of them, I had their concerns in mind when I made the offer.

    ¡°Forty Thousand?¡± He asked, slightly raising his voice. ¡°Each?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± I nervously replied. ¡°I figured we could use the room to work with on the budgets since they¡¯re new clients.¡±

    ¡°Well done, Landyn!¡± He exclaimed, patting me on the back. ¡°Keep up the good work!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Kanian.¡± I recovered, breathing a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Be careful on the roads, it¡¯s wet out there.¡±

    ¡°Will do.¡±

    There weren¡¯t many things I hated more in life than the rain¡ªpreferring the comfort of sun rays over the inconvenience of rain showers. Since I was still four to five years away, I didn¡¯t give much thought about how life would change if I made partner. My focus was to gain all the experience and knowledge I could to be exceptional at what I did. After Arthur Anderson was sanctioned, Public Accounting became an industry under intense scrutiny¡ªthe Enron scandal alone nearly corrupted the entire profession. It became much harder to sell audit services as CPA firms became the enemy, and not the trusted savior. If the public couldn¡¯t put faith in an auditor¡¯s independence, they could never rely on a Company¡¯s financial reports to make investing decisions. The Enron fiasco dealt a monster blow to the public¡¯s trust in Big CPA firms. If public accounting firms wanted to survive, they now had to offer value added services to their clients on top of providing auditing and tax work.

    I naturally stumbled upon providing value-added services to one of our clients during my fourth year working for the firm. While managing an audit, I uncovered fraud committed by the company¡¯s Controller. He circumvented their accounts payable controls and created a fictitious vendor in the system with a P.O. Box remittance address. He¡¯d create fake invoices for this vendor and authorize them to be entered into the accounting system by the Accounts Payable Clerk. He would then authorize the Accounts Payable Clerk to cut a check each week to pay the fake invoices he authorized, signing the check then giving it back to the clerk who in turn mailed the check to the P.O. box he setup. During an audit, we¡¯re required to compare account balances to the prior period and when I noticed the Company¡¯s cash decreased significantly compared to the previous year, I inquired about it. When I talked to the Controller, quite casually, he claimed salary and legal expenses increased compared to last year. He was right, and his answer appeared reasonable on the surface since the Company¡¯s increase in revenue basically offset the increased expenses. It wasn¡¯t until I noticed a significant increase in notes payable that his answer didn¡¯t pass the smell test¡ªcash should¡¯ve definitely increased, not decreased. When I brought it to the Controller¡¯s attention, he was noticeably uncomfortable, telling me he was super busy and would get back to me about it. When I interviewed the Company¡¯s Senior Accountant, she directed me to a vendor on the AP aging that didn¡¯t sound familiar to her. It wasn¡¯t until I examined the invoices did I decide to ask the Accounts Payable Clerk about it. She confessed the Controller had her add the vendor without any documentation or even the CFO¡¯s approval. When I asked her why she still entered the vendor in the system, she said he threatened to fire her if she didn¡¯t. Knowing she was a single mother with two kids, he used that knowledge against her to get what he needed to be done. After I presented my findings to the owner and CFO, they conducted a quick investigation of their own before having the Controller charged, fired and then eventually convicted for embezzlement. It was estimated before the fraud was found, the Company lost nearly three hundred thousand dollars in cash over an eighteen-month period. The owner was grateful for my work and even asked if I would be the Company¡¯s new Controller. He made it very tempting, offering me a very generous six figure salary with a great benefits package but I respectfully turned it down. I could make five to ten times more a year staying with KSR if I made partner. When I returned to the office a bit of a hero, Alan Kanian took me out to lunch for my yearly review.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been makin¡¯ a bit of a push for you to be a partner with us.¡± He revealed, the cool breeze bringing his thin gray hair to life as he sat across from me. ¡°I don¡¯t want to push too hard but I want to make sure your contributions don¡¯t go unnoticed.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say, Mr. Kanian...Thank you.¡± I said, while holding a menu to reflect the sun¡¯s glare as we sat at a patio table.

    ¡°If we¡¯re to meet our growth objectives, we need people like you to help us get there.¡± He continued, while scanning the menu in his hand. ¡°We¡¯re really excited about your future here at KSR, Landyn.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t thank you enough for the opportunity.¡± I replied, hoping I found the right words to convey my appreciation.

    ¡°With that being said, I have an opportunity I¡¯d like to share with you.¡± He told me as he pulled his eyes away from the menu to look directly at me. ¡°Strictly confidential.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I nervously acknowledged.

    ¡°I have a meeting next week with the President of the Caiaphas Property Group. Have you ever heard of them?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I have.¡± I answered, shaking my head while hoping not knowing who they were wouldn¡¯t alter his decision about putting me on the fast track to partner.

    ¡°I¡¯m meeting with Jackson Caiaphas. He¡¯s the founder and President of the Caiaphas Property Group, or CPG. He owns a majority of the commercial properties right here in southern California and has a corporate office in Newport Beach.¡± He informed me. ¡°Over the last year CPG has expanded their portfolio into northern California, Nevada and Arizona. Jackson has also been serving as a councilman in San Francisco.¡±

    ¡°Wow¡­where does he find the time? He sounds super busy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I should also mention he¡¯s running in next year¡¯s district election for a congressional seat.¡±

    I shook my head in pure astonishment. I considered myself a fairly driven person but nothing even close to this. The man seemed super human.

    ¡°Mr. Caiaphas is a prominent leader and businessman not only locally, but also nationally. He knows a lot of the ¡®well to do¡¯ and he¡¯s generously given our firm some time to talk with him.¡± Mr. Kanian continued. ¡°We plan to meet for lunch in San Francisco a week from tomorrow. It¡¯s much more than a lunch meeting though¡ªhe wants to change auditors and is interested in hearing about our services. It¡¯s a huge deal for us.¡±

    ¡°How huge?¡± I wondered.

    ¡°Let me ask you this. What do you think our annual revenues are?¡±

    ¡°I would say somewhere between three to four million dollars?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a little closer to five million.¡± He corrected me. ¡°If we land the CPG account, and mainly due to his referral base, we could easily grow our annual revenues five times¡­if not more.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to say. Of course, it would be great for the firm but what were our chances of landing the CPG audit? It was ambitious but we were small potatoes and didn¡¯t have enough experienced staff to handle all that potential work.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t he considering a larger firm?¡± I asked.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust them after Enron. He wants to work with a local firm and not a regional one.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see¡­but what about our staff? Could we handle all that audit work?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll just have to recruit at more colleges.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    I recruited at six college events a year, talking to many new college graduates who majored in accounting about the opportunities at our firm. I enjoyed them for the most part, it was nice to catch up with my old professors, but after working all day, these events really drained me. Our lunch meeting started off great, but all I could do now was wait for him to ask if I¡¯d be willing to work more college events. To be honest, I was hoping to cut down on recruiting this year. I wanted to focus more on building my banking relationships. When Mr. Kanian mentioned he was making a push for me to become partner; I got my hopes up he¡¯d give me more opportunities to do that. Now it seemed the only reason he took me out to lunch was to ask if I¡¯d do more college recruiting events¡ªthere was no way I could say no.

    ¡°Since Kevin is dealing with a slew of retirement plan audits right now, I¡¯d like for you to join me to meet Mr. Caiaphas.¡±

    When Mr. Kanian asked me to be a part of the CPG meeting in San Francisco, I couldn¡¯t move. I knew he wanted to put me on the fast track to partner, but this was more like a wormhole to Pluto. Was I ready for this? I thought he would ease my way into the position, but this meeting was all or nothing¡ªif I failed, my entire career was over. But if I failed to accept his invitation then my career would be over before it began.

    ¡°Thank you for the opportunity¡­for having so much faith in me.¡± I nervously told him, trying desperately to keep eye contact as trepidation filled me. ¡°Yes¡­please count me in.¡±

    Mr. Kanian beamed, clasped his hands together and grabbed his menu.

    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯m starving.¡± He said, scanning the list of food options.

    I returned his smile but suddenly lost my appetite as anxiety washed over me. To know my entire career, all I ever worked for and all I left behind was riding on this meeting made it impossible to focus on the menu. I didn¡¯t have much trust in people anymore, losing that quality over the years and white knuckling it to where I was today. It was easy to be skeptical of Mr. Kanian¡¯s motive to have me join him in San Francisco. Just like the women I¡¯ve met in my life, I now had a boss who used me up as well¡ªthe price for being a nice guy, for being enthusiastic and willing to do what it took to be loved. Was Mr. Kanian any different from Denise? Every single thing I did in my life with great passion seemed to always explode in my face. Did Mr. Kanian just put me on the fast track to failure? He said he wanted me to be a partner at the firm and it even seemed as if he liked me, but I¡¯ve been duped before. Although this threatened to end my hopes of becoming partner, I had to bargain with myself and find a way to accept what he just gave me¡ªan opportunity to make this dream of mine a reality. I just needed to think positively, which was like walking on a bed of nails. My greatest challenge wasn¡¯t Jackson Caiaphas, but myself. I simply couldn¡¯t afford to think negatively about my life anymore.

    After my meeting with Alan, and it being a Friday, I drove to my parent¡¯s house to share the news. Even with all its risks, the opportunity was a great one I wanted to share with them. I knew my mother always worried about me and anytime I could ease her mind, I made a point to do so. With having Cancer, it was important to help alleviate her stress levels. She needed to know that the man who used to walk with his head hanging, and his eyes fixed on the ground, no longer existed. I hoped to share this news with my father, but he wasn¡¯t home when I arrived. It was also a bit of a relief too. Often times, even when sharing positive news, he¡¯d find a negative light to cast upon it that led me to question myself. I refused to let him bring me down like he had done in the past so I rarely shared anything with him about my life. The day I decided to avoid his negative spins on everything was the day I finally turned things around.

    The backdoor was open, as usual, so I walked inside and straight to my mother¡¯s bedroom. Through the wide open door, I could see she was sitting at the edge of her bed watching television with her bare feet dangling off the ground. She was dressed in her faded pink pajamas with the remote control in her lap at six-thirty p.m. on a Friday night¡ªnothing new to see here.

    ¡°What are you doin¡¯ here?¡± She gawked, unwilling to rise off her perch to hug me.

    ¡°Happy to see you, too.¡± I retorted.

    ¡°You never visit on Friday nights.¡± She stated as she put on her glasses¡­I guess to make sure it was me.

    ¡°Were you expecting other visitors since you left the back door open?¡± I teased.

    ¡°The back door was open? I asked your father to lock it before he left for the park!¡± She shouted as she zoomed past me and through the hall to lock the back door. When she returned, she blew past me again and sat back down in her original spot on the bed.

    ¡°Ughhh¡­now I have to rewind to see what happened to Austin and Sammy.¡± She muttered as she aimed the remote at the television. ¡°Your Father¡­¡±

    ¡°Keep it on pause for a second, I have somethin¡¯ to tell you.¡± I instructed then snatching the remote from her hand.

    ¡°What is it?¡± She demanded, breathing heavily with a look of exasperation on her face while trying to grab the remote back from me.

    ¡°I had my yearly review today with Mr. Kanian.¡± I said, flipping the remote in the air and catching it.

    ¡°Stop that! Gimme that back¡­you¡¯re gonna break it! I just put new batteries in there!¡± She scolded, making another feeble attempt to snatch it back from me. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the lead partner at the firm. The ¡°K¡± in KSR.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s KSR?¡± She inquired, rolling her eyes while I continued joyously tossing the remote control in the air and catching it.

    ¡°The firm I¡¯ve been working at for the last¡­uh¡­the last six years?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I thought it was KFC.¡± She told me. ¡°I guess I must be hungry.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to disappoint you, but Colonel Sanders isn¡¯t my boss. I can¡¯t get you a free bucket of extra crispy fried chicken.¡± I said, tossing the remote control lightly into her lap.

    ¡°You know I have dyslexia, Honey. I don¡¯t know KFC from CPK.¡± She tried to explain, clutching the remote control.

    ¡°You must be really hungry.¡± I said. ¡°And dyslexia is when you have a problem when you¡¯re reading writing or spelling, not when you¡¯re speaking.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d be surprised, Honey¡­I have all sorts of issues with my dyslexia. Can you go and grab me two tacos?¡± She asked, with excitement in her eyes suddenly seeing a purpose that benefited her by my surprise visit. ¡°I¡¯ll buy something for you too¡­hand me my purse in the cabinet over there.¡±

    ¡°Mom? Can I just tell you what happened today without your hunger pains gettin¡¯ in the way?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Honey. Go on¡­you had an interview today with VCR. What happened?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s wasn¡¯t an interview but my yearly review.¡± I clarified, steering clear of the acronym crisis she further experienced.

    ¡°Oh okay, hey Landy¡­how do you like my hair?¡± She wondered, dodging my good news yet again. ¡°I had it permed today.¡±

    ¡°It looks the same as it always does.¡± I remarked.

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell the difference?¡± She said, moving her head to the left and right, hoping to show me the supposed transformation.

    ¡°Oh, it looks nice.¡± I obliged her, still unable to see a difference.

    ¡°Now who is Mr. Canadian?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Mr. Kanian, he¡¯s my boss¡­The founding partner of the firm.¡±

    ¡°Well are you gonna tell me what happened?¡± She asked, throwing her hands in the air. ¡°I need to finish my soap.¡±

    I could never tell if my mother had her hair permed, but I could definitely tell she needed a color change to blonde. After I stared at her for a few seconds in disbelief, I finally broke the news.

    ¡°He gave me a sterling review¡­he¡¯s puttin¡¯ me on the fast track to partner.¡± I informed her. ¡°I¡¯m going with him to San Francisco next week to meet with a potential new client. A big new client.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great, Honey!¡± She smiled, getting up from her bed and giving me a hug.

    ¡°Thanks, mom.¡± I said as she sat back down.

    ¡°Umm¡­What does that mean?¡± She wondered, her face now wearing an expression of confusion.

    ¡°What does what mean?¡± I laughed. ¡°It means I¡¯m getting an opportunity to buy my first house sooner than later!¡±

    ¡°Here in Harbor City?¡± She asked, her hazel eyes widening.

    ¡°Harbor City? I don¡¯t think so, Mom.¡± I answered honestly. ¡°I need to live in Orange County¡ªit¡¯s closer to the home office. It¡¯s too long of a drive to work from Harbor City.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± She exhaled.

    ¡°Newport Beach is a straight shot down P.C.H. It¡¯s only forty minutes away from Harbor City. That¡¯s not too far.¡±

    ¡°No¡­I guess it¡¯s not.¡± She said, aiming the remote control at her television and hitting the play button.

    At times, my mother could treat my excitement like a piece of paper, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it inside a wastebasket. I also understood it was hard for most people to comprehend what I did for a living¡ªespecially someone who was sixty years old who never graduated from Junior High school. I was just so used to being beaten down by my Father, and by life itself, that it became impossible to hide my disappointment whenever she failed to understand all I¡¯ve accomplished. She was the only person I had in my life who was genuinely happy for me, and it was natural to want to share any good news I had with her¡ªshe was the only person I trusted. Like she hoped I¡¯d move back to Harbor City, I hoped she¡¯d understand what a big deal this was for me, but I couldn¡¯t blame her¡ªmy career path was a bit complicated for anyone to understand. As effective as the Femara treatments were in fighting back the Cancer that metastasized to her bones, they likely also affected her memory in some way. I tried hard to understand her reaction had nothing to do with me.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, noticing a significant bruise on the top of her hand.

    ¡°They had a hard time finding a vein on me yesterday.¡± She replied, looking at her hand then placing it under her bottom where she sat. ¡°It¡¯s no big deal.¡±

    ¡°Did Dad take you to your treatment?¡±

    ¡°He had to work at the park¡ªI usually go to my treatments alone anyway. I¡¯m fine to drive home.¡± She told me. ¡°Doctor Collins did tell me the Femara is working. They¡¯re going to take me off of it soon.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great news!¡± I said, relieved to know she was winning and not having to be on it for the rest of her life.

    ¡°I was super happy when he told me! I need to be more active¡ªI plan to start exercising every day!¡± She happily announced, moving her arms back and forth to mimic walking.

    Living with Cancer for the last seven years, it became routine for her to think positively even after receiving bad news. Since she treated a disease that took over 500,000 lives a year like the common cold, it felt that way to my Father and I as well. My Dad seemed to check out more often than not though, and it bothered me. She needed someone to be there for her more often, and that was another reason I stopped going to Sonomas every weekend¡ªto keep her company instead. On my way to visit, I¡¯d usually stop by a Target and grab a DVD we could watch together, or sometimes, we¡¯d just watch the movies she already had. The only problem was ¡°Sleepless in Seattle¡± seemed to be on an endless loop whenever I visited. She also kept up with the Kardashians too much for my taste, paid homage to ¡°The Golden Girls¡± reruns and transported herself to and from the ¡°Third Rock from the Sun.¡± Her guilty pleasure was ¡°Days of Our Lives¡±, a soap opera she watched religiously every day since the show¡¯s very first airing. All of her favorite shows to me were cringy¡ªI despised them all. After a while, though, I demanded Bo and Hope updates, wondered how Bruce would deal with Kris, and even laughed at Estelle Getty¡¯s wisecracks. Over time, these shows brought my mother and I closer together. After a run to grab her two tacos, I caught up on the weekly episodes of ¡°Days of Our Lives¡±, annoyingly finding humor in them to my mother, before heading home.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    On the morning of the meeting, I tried on six different ties getting ready. When I finally settled on a dark blue one with my black suit, I nervously glanced at my watch¡ªI had just fifteen minutes to get to the office. Luckily for me, traffic was light and I made it with just a few minutes to spare. Alan arranged for us to be picked up by a limousine at the office¡ªwe needed to be at the airport by nine in the morning. When we arrived, we passed through security with flying colors and had a half hour before our forty-five minute flight to San Francisco departed at ten-thirty. The meeting was set up for one that afternoon at a restaurant called Morelli¡¯s. Alan had never met Mr. Caiaphas in person¡ªwe really didn¡¯t know what to expect. I couldn¡¯t speak for my boss, but I was both confident and uncomfortable. I struggled to hide behind all of my apprehensions, but I had no choice¡ªnetting this client would be like hitting the lottery for the firm. His revenue stream alone could carry the partnership for years while giving us instant name recognition throughout the profession. Since Mr. Caiaphas sat on the board of directors for various large privately and publicly held real estate companies, the opportunity for referrals were endless if we landed him. We faced fierce competition from outside firms, but obtaining him as a client would truly set us apart from the rest of them.

    Twenty-five years ago, Alan humbly started the firm from out of his garage. John Sharp and Ken Rutledge joined him five years later, or twenty years ago, to form Kanian, Sharp and Rutledge; KSR LLP. Since then, the firm grew to a hundred employees consisting of a tax department of thirty-eight preparers and consultants and an audit department of sixty-two auditors. As we rode in the limo together, he told me without considering a positive outcome from today¡¯s meeting, he could¡¯ve never imagined the firm¡¯s growth even ten years ago. I thought back to my own life ten years earlier and our lives couldn¡¯t have been more different. I was too busy dreaming about love and building a family of my own out of it. Having a successful career with a six or seven figure salary was the furthest thing from my mind. The universe worked in strange ways and unbelievably, I intersected with KSR at the right time delivering us both to an opportunity we couldn¡¯t have imagined.

    On the plane ride, I anxiously peered out the window from my middle seat as we lifted off. Although I flew quite a bit, being in the air always made me feel a bit uneasy. Although this was one of my shorter flights, Murphy¡¯s law was always in effect for me. Things were going so well professionally, dying in a plane crash would make my good luck logical. As much I would¡¯ve loved to see the world, I lacked the adventurous spirit needed to get on a plane long enough to see Paris or Rome. I even worried about the plane being hit by debris or a space rock burning up in the atmosphere. Have those kinds of things ever happened in aviation history? I really didn¡¯t know. Let¡¯s just say, I lacked the mental fortitude to be a pilot knowing every single day I could die in a plane crash. Then again, would anyone be a commercial airline pilot if that truly had a great chance of happening? Before the first business flight I ever took, I found a book on flying written by a pilot. He claimed air travelers had a better chance at winning the lottery than dying in a plane crash. That alone got me through most of my flights whenever experiencing tough turbulence.

    On this particular flight, though, my mind raced for completely different reasons¡ªmy career was simply on the line at this lunch meeting. Feeling confidence in myself behind a laptop was one thing, but this was a lopsided matchup. While in the air, I did some research online about CPG and its owner, Jackson Caiaphas. I learned he was more than just an opportunistic businessman, but also a jetsetter. Even Alan Kanian, the founding partner of a large growing local CPA firm, fell far short of Mr. Caiaphas¡¯s credentials. Researching further, I learned he was running for District Fourteen¡¯s congressional seat, and not District Eight that covered San Francisco. When I read District Eight was headed by Nancy Pelosi, it seemed like a smart decision for him to run for another district since she¡¯s held that seat for fourteen years now. Even if I stripped away all of his accomplishments, how would an introvert, like myself, be able to keep up a conversation with him? He lived in a far different world than I did and seemed to possess a more superior sense of being. It wasn¡¯t too long ago I felt like jumping off a bridge and now I¡¯m supposed to act as if I¡¯m on the same playing field of success he was? How could I sell myself to someone who was far more accomplished and important? He¡¯d see right through me and to the fraudulent being I was. It really made me question if I was qualified to even be in the same room with him. What made Mr. Kanian believe he¡¯d want me at the same table with them? A man who has failed for most of his life? I felt really good about where things were headed for me, but it was still aiming low compared to Mr. Caiaphas¡¯s rich life.

    Before I stepped a foot on the plane, I felt super confident about my ability to sell the firm to Jackson Caiaphas. After reading up on him and learning how he built himself to not only become a successful entrepreneur but a well-respected member of society, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder one thing¡ªwhy Alan chose me to join him instead of his other partners. If anyone should be in this pitch meeting, it should be them or Kevin, not me. Mr. Kanian had too much faith in me to trust his instincts. I wasn¡¯t ready for this¡ªnot even close. I felt like a vampire being thrown out into the sunlight¡ªdoomed from the beginning. When I got off the plane, I suddenly felt dizzy seemingly forgetting to breathe regularly from all the stressful thoughts circling in my head like vultures. After catching my breath for a few seconds, the light headiness subsided and I was able to walk off the plane. After being rejected by love in my life, I now found myself preparing to be shunned by my career too¡ªthe only hope I had left.

    From the airport, we jumped into another stretch limo that took us directly to the restaurant in downtown San Francisco. With twenty minutes to spare before our meeting, Mr. Kanian briefed me on my role during lunch¡ªas if I didn¡¯t feel enough pressure already.

    ¡°Landyn, I need you to answer any questions he might have about our audit process.¡± He instructed. ¡°How we achieve efficiencies to ensure his personnel can concentrate on running their business without being bogged down with audit requests.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± I nervously replied, trying to read his face for any hints as to the real reason why he asked me to be here.

    ¡°Just really drive home how efficient we are¡ªthat we understand how their business operates day to day, month to month, quarter to quarter and year to year.¡± He continued. ¡°That we¡¯re extremely detailed and concise with every audit request we make.¡±

    ¡°Basically, let him know the goal of our audits is to keep their costs down while satisfying our audit objectives.¡± I added.

    ¡°In a nutshell.¡± He nodded. ¡°If you can provide examples, even better.¡±

    To be competitive in the market place, we worked with low budgets since our firm usually won a client by offering the lowest price. Often times, I felt we shortchanged ourselves, by sacrificing quality for quantity. Staying under budget was impossible for me, but I never billed our clients for the extra work I put in at home on the weekends. I refused to sacrifice the quality of my audits and had to go over budget to achieve it most of the time. Fearing we¡¯d lose out on potential business, I never complained about the time constraints the small budgets put on me. But at times, the stress they caused was overwhelming¡ªa big reason why Sonomas became a weekend hotspot. The opportunity to net a monster catch like CPG would not be possible if we weren¡¯t willing to take a couple hits on low budgeted jobs.

    We entered Morelli¡¯s five minutes early, telling the hostess we had reservations but wanted to wait for the other member of our party to arrive before being seated. She couldn¡¯t have been more than nineteen years old, with long straight brown hair, an angelic face and a cute smile. As we stood fifteen feet from the door, Mr. Kanian continued to brief me on CPG, but by this time it was old news to me. As the minutes winded down, I became anxious and felt light headed again. I was now mere minutes away from what I knew would be a career defining moment. All the work I put in over the last six years, to move past what used to consume and drive me in life, was now all on the line. I couldn¡¯t afford to take any steps backwards. A successful career, a promotion to partner was my only hope after love left me behind. There was just so much on the line for me. I¡¯m sure Mr. Kanian felt a lot of pressure, but if he came back without landing CPG as a new client, he was already successful being a partner at KSR. For me, I was on the verge of losing everything I¡¯ve ever worked for. Being successful in business was never as important as being successful in love was for most of my existence on earth. I grew up from those times, though, and all those failures with love led me to this day. If I lost this, only one thing would be certain¡ªI¡¯d never be successful at anything.

    At exactly one o¡¯ clock, a tall, lean and well-groomed man, with a briefcase in tow, dressed in a tailor-made navy-blue suit, white shirt and a red tie walked inside the restaurant. I only had a picture to go off from, but I knew who just stepped inside the building. Alan approached this gentleman with a respect all its own and extended his hand out to greet him.

    ¡°Mr. Caiaphas.¡± He acknowledged. ¡°Alan Kanian with KSR.¡±

    ¡°Ah! A pleasure. An absolute pleasure.¡± He replied, giving him a hearty handshake. ¡°This is mine and my wife¡¯s favorite spot!¡±

    ¡°Laura and I have been here many times and it¡¯s a favorite of ours too.¡± Responded Alan. ¡°Jackson, this is my associate, Mr. Landyn Lastman. As I mentioned on our phone call, he would be joining us for lunch.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you did bring along the associate I see.¡± He nodded, extending his hand to mine. ¡°I¡¯m certain you will enjoy the food here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure of that Mr. Caiaphas.¡± I smiled, as he shook my hand firmly. ¡°A pleasure to meet you.¡±

    Jackson Caiaphas carried himself with a distinguished dignity, a Presidential quality as he strode through the restaurant to our table. One could easily tell from the very onset he was someone of great importance as he knew the hostess, waiters and waitresses by their first names. He even knew them on a personal level, asking various questions about their lives. As he strode past people seated in their booths, he patted a few on the back. Just walking through the restaurant created a buzz as patrons whispered to each other about who had just walked past them, and likely wondering aloud about who was with him too. After escorting us to our table in a secluded part of the restaurant, he leaned in and lightly pecked the hostess on her cheek. When we were seated, our waitress greeted us and placed a menu in each of our hands. After we thanked the waitress, Mr. Kanian thankfully started to make small talk, something I didn¡¯t do well¡ªespecially in this type of setting. Telling of his travels to Italy inspired Mr. Caiaphas to talk of his fondness for the ¡°old¡± country.

    ¡°Ah, yes! My wife and I particularly enjoyed Rome.¡± Announced Jackson Caiaphas. ¡°We lived off of wine for nearly two weeks there this summer. The food was absolutely extraordinary and the people were delightful.¡±

    ¡°I had the same experience although not for two weeks this past summer.¡± Laughed Alan.

    Mr. Caiaphas smiled at Alan¡¯s candor as he affixed a white cloth napkin upon his lap. Mr. Kanian and I then both followed in kind. A few seconds later, a waiter appeared at our table, presenting our potential client with a bottle of wine.

    ¡°Sir, compliments of Mr. Morelli.¡± Said the gray-haired server who gently handed the bottle to him. ¡°A two thousand nine Screaming Eagle cabernet sauvignon, please enjoy.¡±

    ¡°This is very kind, very kind indeed¡­thank you.¡± Replied Mr. Caiaphas as he showed the bottle to us.

    When he accepted a bottle of what surely had to be a highly priced wine, I likened it to a scene in ¡°The Godfather¡±, but the waiter never said he hoped his newborn would be a masculine child. Being around Jackson Caiaphas and feeling a part of his significance, miraculously eased the uncomfortable feelings I had before the meeting. Strangely, I began to feel I actually belonged at the same table. Although we were in our own corner, it seemed everyone in the restaurant knew where we were¡ªtheir glances over at us revealing their interest. The topic then shifted to a conversation about the best food choices on the menu. When I saw the price for a bottle of Screaming Eagle cabernet sauvignon was nine thousand dollars, I couldn¡¯t get it off my mind as I scanned the menu. After we placed our lunch orders with the waiter, it was time to talk business.

    ¡°Thank you for meeting and allowing us an opportunity to talk to you about our audit services.¡± Started Mr. Kanian as our server placed a basket of bread in front of us.

    ¡°I guess since I¡¯ve met you here, we should discuss that.¡± Smiled Mr. Caiaphas, as he moved the bread basket towards him. I guess the man loved the bread here too.

    ¡°We truly value the opportunity you¡¯ve given us today.¡± Alan continued. ¡°We¡¯d like to ask why you¡¯re leaving your current auditor and what you¡¯re seeking by making a change?¡±

    ¡°Quite frankly, I don¡¯t like the CPA firm we¡¯re using now.¡± He answered, peeling away the white cloth the bread stayed warm in. ¡°Why, you ask? Other than their fees no longer fitting into our budget, but after fifteen years with them, we¡¯ve received nothing more than an audit.¡±

    ¡°Are you sayin¡¯ they didn¡¯t meet your expectations?¡± Asked Alan.

    ¡°We expect them to perform an audit, but I find it impossible to believe our operational and accounting processes are without fault.¡± He elaborated, as he took a piece of bread from the basket and halved it with his hands. ¡°They offer no added value to MY Company yet the fees go up each year without valid reasons.¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s fair to point out that Sarbanes Oxley caused most CPA firms to raise their prices because the internal control processes needed to be documented. They had to adjust their budgets upwards due to the increased work that needed to be done¡ªmost companies had never documented any of their controls.¡± Mr. Kanian explained, as Mr. Caiaphas pushed the bread basket to him.

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about Sarbanes Oxley, they have always, without fail, raised their fees on us each year. Other than providing us with an audit, where¡¯s the additional value we¡¯re receiving to justify these yearly increases?¡± Added Mr. Caiaphas, irritably dipping his bread onto a small plate of vinegar and oil. ¡°My employees are constantly bombarded, almost harassed, to fulfill their audit requests each year. They¡¯ve had to work late into the night fulfilling audit requests causing me to pay them overtime on several occasions. The way they run their audits is costing me even more money on top of their fees! It¡¯s criminal!¡±

    Mr. Caiaphas bit into his piece of bread while Alan and I both shook our heads. We couldn¡¯t believe how an audit could be run in such a manner. I wanted to speak out but decided best not to. Watching Mr. Caiaphas eat prompted my stomach to growl, but was too afraid to make a move for the bread basket in front of Mr. Kanian. It seemed bread containers always eluded my reach whenever I went out to Italian restaurants.

    ¡°The way this particular firm goes about doing business is not only unacceptable but unethical¡ªit¡¯s maddening to me.¡± Mr. Caiaphas continued, dipping another piece of bread onto the oil and vinegar dish causing my stomach to growl again¡ªI loved vinegar on bread. ¡°The bottom line is I¡¯m looking to lower what its costing me to get through an audit. I¡¯m too busy to deal with these CPA firms. So¡­let me ask you this.¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡± Said Mr. Kanian as he leaned in.

    ¡°What does KSR bring to the table? Do you plan to increase my payroll costs on top of my audit fees too?¡± He inquired, sardonically. ¡°What do I get for the price of an audit with KSR?¡±

    Mr. Kanian nodded his head without saying a single word as both Mr. Caiaphas and I anxiously waited for a response.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let Landyn have the floor on this one.¡± Mr. Kanian said then turned to me, dipping his hand into the bread basket.

    Four sets of eyes, like a pair of owls on a mouse, focused with great anticipation upon me. I tried to hide the fear swelling inside, regardless of its relentlessness within¡ªI could not believe he left this question up to me. I thought he wanted me to be a partner at the firm, not a casualty! How could Mr. Kanian have this much confidence in me? Did we never have a chance for the account to begin with and this was just a trial by fire? Did he even realize we arrived in a kayak to catch a whale? How could he put the future of the firm, and all of its employees, in the hands of an associate? It didn¡¯t matter how prepared I felt, one wrong answer from this lowly apprentice and this meeting was adjourned. I looked directly at Mr. Caiaphas noticing his eyes awaiting a response I didn¡¯t know the answer to. If I didn¡¯t belong at this table, the look in his dark brown eyes only confirmed it.

    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s hear what the associate, whom I¡¯m assuming is just one of many staff accountants at your firm, has to say.¡± Declared a scathingly skeptical Mr. Caiaphas that caused me to feel light headed again. If I didn¡¯t know what to say to someone who was likely a master negotiator, I surely questioned myself now.

    ¡°Actually, Landyn is a Senior Manager at our firm¡­¡± countered Mr. Kanian. ¡°and he is very knowledgeable about many of the accounting issues affecting companies in your industry. He specializes in property accounting and is more than qualified to address your concerns.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hear it then.¡± Said Mr. Caiaphas, turning his attention back to me.

    ¡°Well, Mr. Caiaphas¡­¡± I started.

    ¡°Kai¡­ah¡­Fuss.¡± He pronounced. ¡°Mr. Cai¡­a¡­phas.¡±

    ¡°Please pardon me, Mr. Caiaphas.¡± Quickly responding and correcting my pronunciation of Kaya Fuss¡ªa major detail I fumbled. This wasn¡¯t the way to start the end of my career. Gathering myself, I proceeded with even more caution. ¡°I¡¯ve been with KSR for six years now¡ªtackling many complicated audits over that time. I¡¯m sure Mr. Kanian could attest I¡¯m comfortable working with small budget engagements.¡±

    ¡°Why would that concern me?¡± He demanded.

    ¡°I just know our fees will be competitive, if not the lowest you¡¯ll find out there.¡± I answered confidently knowing without a doubt that was true. ¡°We know you don¡¯t make money to pay for audit fees. If you¡¯re business isn¡¯t successful, neither are we.¡±

    ¡°What would be the difference between KSR and another firm out there? I¡¯m lookin¡¯ for a cost effective audit¡ªnot just a low cost one.¡±

    ¡°The difference between us and other firms, including the one firm you currently use, is that we truly put an emphasis on finding what your expectations are in the beginning and then try not just to meet them, but to exceed them. That includes providing a high quality, cost effective audit at a low price.¡±

    ¡°That all sounds fine and dandy, but we¡¯re being greatly inconvenienced each and every year with these audits. How would KSR be different from the firm I¡¯m currently shellin¡¯ out all this money to?¡± He asked, as I noticed having another piece of bread was the furthest thing from his mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me to learn most audit firms inconvenience their clients by asking for documents they¡¯ve already sent them. I can tell you, KSR has a more proactive audit approach than a reactive one.¡± I explained. ¡°Everything requested from a client has to go through our managers first before they are asked by an audit staff to provide it. We have a strong document control system that ensures there are efficiencies from our side. We know you have a business to run during an audit and by using a proactive planning approach, this helps ensure you can stay focused on running your business instead of fulfilling back end audit requests.¡±

    ¡°What do you personally bring to the table?¡± Haughtily inquired Mr. Caiaphas. ¡°What qualifies you to handle our audit? What do you know about the private side if you¡¯re just a public accountant?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve worked at a private company for five years before joining KSR.¡± I smiled recalling my prank phone call that almost destroyed my career. Now I know why I answered the fax advertisement that day¡ªits memory calmed my nerves during my career¡¯s most defining moment. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯ve also gone through what you have during the audit process. It always unnerved me to be pulled away from my work for no legitimate reason. Giving an auditor the same document, they asked me for two weeks earlier, used to frustrate the hell out of me. So¡­I understand how you feel from my past experience in the private sector.¡±

    I could notice a small shift in his expression¡ªan opening I had to seize.

    ¡°I take great pride not bothering my client¡¯s employees during an audit.¡± I continued. ¡°I want to get in and out of there as badly as they want me in and out of there. I can assure that you will never accumulate added payroll costs with a KSR audit because I¡¯ve been on your side before.¡±

    ¡°You can assure me? How do you go about doing that?¡±

    ¡°At the beginning of each audit, I create an extremely detailed list of items needed, tailor made to your balance sheet. Each day during the audit, I¡¯ll report our progress to you to make sure we¡¯re on track and your expectations for the audit are in line.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the extra added value though?¡± He responded, hammering me with a gotcha question. ¡°I guess so much for exceeding expectations.¡±

    ¡°KSR has developed additional audit tests we perform, at no extra charge to you, that we obtain from documents you would¡¯ve already provided to us. They are designed to detect for fraud you may be unaware of¡ªlike an employee embezzling from the company. These added procedures can¡¯t guarantee we¡¯ll discover fraud, but it does increase the chances it could be caught. We also put together a performance report for each client after an audit, highlighting ratios and key performance indicators to help show how your business is doing and where it is likely heading. We also make recommendations if we come across anything during the audit that could improve your processes.¡±

    ¡°And this is at no extra charge?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±

    ¡°At no extra personnel cost?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±

    Jackson Caiaphas leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. Unable to shift my eyes to Mr. Kanian, I couldn¡¯t tell what he was doing or thinking. Without a consensus to know if all I said was good or bad, I couldn¡¯t take a chance of falling short¡ªI had to up the ante. If my career was over, I had no choice but to go out with a bang.

    ¡°Personally, and with all due respect, I feel you¡¯d be makin¡¯ a terrible decision by going with another firm.¡± I declared. ¡°You¡¯ll notice a definite difference in your first audit with us. I truly believe you¡¯ll thank Mr. Kanian one day if you gave us the opportunity.¡±

    Mr. Caiaphas kept his eyes on me, expecting me to waver or to look away, after making such a proclamation. I could even feel Mr. Kanian¡¯s eyes bearing through my skull¡ªwe were a very conservative firm who never guaranteed such things. The problem was my foot was on the gas and I had to try to take this job all the way home to KSR where it belonged. When Jackson Caiaphas began to shake his head, I felt another failure in a life full of them, fall upon me. All I could do was sigh in resignation.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the pitch.¡± Stated Mr. Caiaphas, bringing his arms upon the table and leaning in. ¡°Quite the pitch indeed¡ªI must say I¡¯m intrigued. How much are we talkin¡¯ here?¡±

    ¡°How does your balance sheet look?¡± Mr. Kanian wondered, putting down a piece of his bread back upon its dish.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what.¡± Said Mr. Caiaphas, opening his briefcase and handing Mr. Kanian a two-sheet document. ¡°Here you go¡­You tell me.¡±

    Without hesitating, Mr. Kanian quickly handed it to me and smirked at Mr. Caiaphas. At this time, our food also arrived, buying me some extra time to study each line item. A few minutes later, I handed it back to Mr. Kanian.

    ¡°I see extensive cash and revenue testing. There¡¯s no inventory of course, but there¡¯s a lot of AR and could be derivatives within the notes payables that may need to be vetted out.¡± I ascertained. ¡°There¡¯s also a line of credit so we¡¯ll have bank covenant calculations. Other than that, it looks pretty basic.¡±

    Alan nodded his head in accordance with my assessment and then addressed Mr. Caiaphas as he handed him back the document.

    ¡°How much is your current auditor charging you?¡± Alan inquired.

    ¡°Three hundred thousand.¡±

    ¡°Per yearly audit?¡± Questioned Mr. Kanian with a hint of incredulity.

    ¡°We have several subsidiaries.¡± Mr. Caiaphas exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest again. ¡°I gave you a consolidated balance sheet.¡±

    Mr. Kanian then looked back over to me.

    ¡°Two.¡± I stated.

    ¡°If we could save you a hundred thousand dollars on your next audit¡­.¡± Alan smiled, his eyes shifting from his plate of risotto to Mr. Caiaphas. ¡°would you be interested in signing an engagement letter with KSR to have us do the work?¡±

    He grinned at both of us and slowly leaned back.

    ¡°Very. I¡¯ll present your proposal to the Board next week.¡±

    ¡°Of course, we¡¯ll send you a formal engagement letter first thing in the morning so you¡¯ll have something to present to them.¡± Assured Mr. Kanian.

    ¡°Excellent.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure if I could breathe a sigh of relief or feel more anxiety until Mr. Caiaphas put it all in proper perspective for me.

    ¡°Let¡¯s open that bottle of wine, shall we?¡± He exclaimed.

    As he did the honor of uncorking the wine bottle, I breathed one of the greatest sighs of relief in history. After he poured us each a generous glass, Mr. Caiaphas voluntarily spoke about his life.

    ¡°You¡¯re lookin¡¯ at a self-made success.¡± He proclaimed, taking a sip from his wine glass as we did the same. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ve eaten some people on my way up, but I don¡¯t apologize for anything¡ªit¡¯s just the business of politics. It¡¯s never personal, it¡¯s business. Unless someone makes it personal¡­then I must take care of business.¡±

    We all laughed together after he made that statement even though I didn¡¯t understand where it came from.

    ¡°I can tell you I¡¯m more revered than hated. After all, one has to know you can¡¯t make everyone happy in this world.¡± He stated, taking another sip from his glass. ¡°How do you like the wine?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s excellent.¡± Declared Alan.

    ¡°It¡¯s very good.¡± I replied honestly, definitely the best I¡¯ve ever tasted.

    ¡°Mmm¡­a bit minty but maintains its elegance¡ªI¡¯ve had better.¡± Added Mr. Caiaphas. ¡°As you know, commercial property is huge in Orange County¡ªit¡¯s a serious business. When you own most of it, people come at you from every direction¡ªall wanting a piece of something they can¡¯t get their hands on. And trust me, they¡¯re willing to take every piece of you to get it, too.¡±

    ¡°When did you acquire your first piece of property?¡± Mr. Kanian inquired, as he dug his fork into his hot food.

    ¡°In nineteen eighty-five with the inheritance money my father left me after he passed¡ªGod rest his soul.¡± Answered Mr. Caiaphas. ¡°It was a small building with just a few floors. I achieved hundred percent tenancy in the third year I acquired it, locking in most of the leases on ten-year terms¡ªit pretty much paid for itself. To be frank, I never thought it would. For the first two years, even buying a morning cup of coffee was a struggle.¡±

    Mr. Caiaphas¡¯s humble beginnings seemed to mirror Mr. Kanian¡¯s, leaving me even more impressed.

    ¡°I then picked up another commercial building a few short years later in developing Irvine.¡± He continued, neglecting his hot plate of rigatoni. ¡°At that point I generated investor interest due to the success I was having enabling me to acquire three large thirty floor commercial buildings in Irvine with their funds. After incorporating in nineteen ninety-five, I sold my first acquisition for twenty times the amount I paid for it, reinvesting that money into more office buildings.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you took advantage of Section Ten Thirty-One.¡± I smiled, finally brave enough to stick a fork into my mozzarella portobellas entree.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I did.¡± Mr. Caiaphas informed me. ¡°I put all my resources into developing Irvine and other parts of Orange County. Since then I¡¯ve acquired buildings in downtown Los Angeles, San Diego and San Francisco. I now own over fifty commercial office buildings, achieving an average of ninety percent tenancy with most of those leases being fifteen years or longer.¡±

    ¡°Do you own office buildings in Arizona and Nevada as well?¡± Asked Alan. ¡°I thought I read you did.¡±

    ¡°I just own multi-family properties in Arizona and Nevada right now. I have plans to open office buildings there in the future though.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just so impressive and inspiring.¡± I broke, recognizing how achieving high tenancy rates and also securing those in long-term leases took great resolve and negotiating ability. His passion for the commercial real estate business just blew me away.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t by any stroke of luck¡­I can assure you.¡± He added as he poured himself another glass of wine. ¡°I had to work many years before I saw my first opportunity and when I did, I seized it. I¡¯m thankful for where I am and I give back when I can, being active in many philanthropic endeavors.¡±

    ¡°We have some non-profit organizations we work with.¡± Interjected Mr. Kanian. ¡°Are you involved with any such organizations?¡±

    ¡°The American Cancer Society. Red Cross. Goodwill. The Temple by my home.¡± He said. ¡°I wish I could volunteer more time, but when duty calls, I have to fly back up here at least a day or two each week.¡±

    Mr. Caiaphas was a hundred times the man I could ever be. The way he spoke. The manner in which he worked. How his every move seemed to be formulated precisely to ensure his success. He even found the time to give his life to others while I claimed every single second after work for myself. I needed to get in his head. How was he able to be successful even while sacrificing much of his life for others?

    ¡°Mr. Caiaphas, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, what is your mindset? How are you able to be so successful regardless of all the time you give to others?

    Mr. Caiaphas took a sip from his wine, and with furrowed eyebrows leaned in to answer my question.

    ¡°When I see somethin¡¯ I want, I don¡¯t wait¡­I don¡¯t ask¡ªI just take it.¡± He responded. ¡°The minute I want it, is the very minute it¡¯s mine.¡±

    ¡°How does it come so easy for you¡­with so much on your plate?¡± I wondered purely fascinated.

    Mr. Caiaphas turned to Mr. Kanian and smiled, then returned to face me. He leaned back and moved his neck, I assumed out of stiffness. As he sat straight up and flattened his tie with his hands, he began to speak.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name again?¡± He asked. ¡°Landman?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no it¡¯s Landyn.¡± I politely corrected him.

    Jackson Caiaphas then extended his right hand out across the table.

    ¡°This ring on my finger?¡± His question directed at me.

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been married for a long time, I¡¯m now fifty-one years young and have children of my own. I¡¯m a family man¡­every single thing I do is for my family. Building a strong family name is something I take great pride in and work very hard at. Providing security for my family is what drives me.¡±

    His words made a lot of sense to me. I could see how his ambition and drive was connected to a great love for his family¡ªthe one thing I¡¯ve always wanted in life.

    ¡°Being a true role model is very important to me. I¡¯ve sustained great success over time because of it.¡± He continued. ¡°Carrying a heavy burden of responsibility to my family, I felt the need to run for a seat on the city council in San Francisco.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have to live in San Francisco to run for its city council?¡± Asked Mr. Kanian.

    ¡°I have a residence here from an inheritance. I also have many connections to San Francisco through Orange County.¡± He explained. ¡°Many people advised me to run for a congressional seat, but I had to drum up a ton of financial support for my campaign to do so. I¡¯m extremely fortunate to have neighbors and friends donate so generously. Once they knew I wanted to run, it was easy for me. It also helped knowing Nancy¡ªshe encouraged me.¡±

    ¡°Pelosi encouraged you to run?¡± Asked Mr. Kanian, taking a sip from his wine glass. ¡°It¡¯s interesting because she¡¯s a democrat and you¡¯re a republican.¡±

    ¡°We naturally stand apart on some issues but in the end, we¡¯re both politicians.¡± He said. ¡°She made sure I didn¡¯t run against her. She encouraged me to run for another district¡¯s congressional seat.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s pretty popular.¡± I said, trying to show off the researching I did earlier. ¡°She¡¯s held District Eight for fourteen years now.¡±

    Mr. Caiaphas put his lips to his wine glass and slowly slid them off before he responded.

    ¡°When I want something¡ªI always get it. I did her a favor by running for District Fourteen¡­and she knows that. Otherwise, she¡¯d no longer be in power.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t the district, you¡¯re running for, the third wealthiest in the country?¡± I asked, still mystified how Jackson¡¯s palate was so refined he could taste the mint in the wine¡­I couldn¡¯t taste it.

    ¡°That¡¯s because it covers San Mateo, Santa Clara and Santa Cruz.¡± He smiled. ¡°For that reason alone, District Fourteen was much more attractive to run for than District Eight.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like there¡¯s no way you can lose.¡± I remarked.

    ¡°If you want something in life, you must envision it and then you go for it even if the odds are stacked against you...regardless of all circumstances.¡± He advised, as he swirled the wine around in his glass. ¡°I¡¯ve helped create jobs and build businesses¡­I¡¯m revered here and in many other counties in NorCal. I¡¯ve leased office space to government officials and have built many personal relationships with police superintendents, D.A.¡¯s, city prosecutors, superior court judges and mayors over the years. As a moderate conservative, I¡¯ve received mostly bipartisan support. Losing is not in my DNA¡ªI like winning too much.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you should be running for the White House.¡± Grinned Mr. Kanian. ¡°You could help with all the gridlock.¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡± He laughed. ¡°I may very well take up residence at sixteen hundred Pennsylvania Avenue one day.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be something?¡± Chuckled Mr. Kanian while taking another piece of bread from the basket.

    ¡°Do you know the governor?¡± I inquired.

    ¡°Indeed¡­my wife and I had the honor of dining with Governor Schwarzenegger just the other evening.¡± He detailed, as he adjusted one of his gold cufflinks. ¡°He sought my counsel on a city attorney who¡¯s up for a judiciary seat this year¡­very casually I must add.¡±

    Upon learning he dined with ¡°The Terminator¡± himself, even Chuck Norris had nothing on Jackson Caiaphas at this point. Before I could ask him a follow-up question, he fed us another tidbit of information.

    ¡°About a month ago, my lovely wife and I went to a cocktail party attended by many of music and Hollywood¡¯s finest. It was actually a charity function.¡± He announced. ¡°A musician, who I¡¯ve gotten to know over the years, insisted on returning a favor for allowing him to have a three-month lease on an open office space I had. I even had it soundproofed for him at no extra charge so he could finish recording his latest CD. Since my wife¡¯s birthday was coming up and she adores his music, he promised he¡¯d make it a night she wouldn¡¯t forget if she wanted to catch one of his shows. Needless to say, I love my wife so much that I took him up on the offer.¡±

    ¡°If my wife ever finds out about this story of yours, she¡¯ll leave me.¡± Joked Mr. Kanian.

    ¡°Being the perfect husband isn¡¯t easy!¡± Mr. Caiaphas proudly bellowed. ¡°But a happy wife equals a happy life, right?¡±

    ¡°It sure does.¡± Smiled Mr. Kanian as he nudged me on the arm. ¡°I hope you¡¯re taking notes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d still fall short.¡± I smiled back, wishing I had the opportunity to be a good husband one day but knowing it was a pipe dream I used to have.

    ¡°It¡¯s all about building and cementing relationships with the people around you.¡± Reiterated Mr. Caiaphas. ¡°I didn¡¯t go to Harvard or Yale. I went to a small college in Irvine¡ªConcordia. I¡¯ve learned over the years, in this life, it¡¯s not what you know but who you know, and because of that, I¡¯ll soon be sitting on the House of Representatives representing California¡¯s Fourteenth District.¡±

    Although I hated politics, and disliked people who boasted just as much, if not more, all I could do was sit there in awe. I knew humility mattered; I¡¯ve been humbled my entire life. It¡¯s supposed to matter, but I was neither envious or jealous of those who succeeded in life. Those who were, could never understand all the hard work and sacrifices that went into being successful¡ªhow many times they failed in life before they made it. How many times they felt like giving up but never quit¡ªthe difference between winning and losing in life. Mr. Caiaphas didn¡¯t owe anyone his humility¡­especially me. He shouldn¡¯t have to apologize to those less successful than he was. We all make bad decisions in life, but Jackson took responsibility for his while the envious never do. He owed them, including me, nothing. Although I¡¯ve seen the worst side of people, I still always looked for the good in them. I didn¡¯t mind that he referred to me as ¡°Landman¡±. It¡¯s easier for me to remember names¡ªI hardly know a hundredth of the people he did. Needless to say, I represented a liability to him, not an asset anyway¡ªwhy would he want to know my name after all the prior bad luck with his auditors? I felt confident he would remember my name one day and I looked forward to earning his respect. I could only pay homage to a man who worked hard, respected his wife, loved his family, knew what he wanted in life and put that all together to become successful. After hearing of his accomplishments, witnessing his charisma first hand and how impressionable he was on others, it left me with zero doubt he would be elected to Congress next year. He also left me with zero doubt, he¡¯d have all he wanted in life, even those things he didn¡¯t know he wanted yet. But I also had no doubt, I could never attain the same success of a man of such a high caliber as Jackson Caiaphas. All I could do was raise a glass in celebration of him, like those around us seemed to do on this day.

 CHAPTER 19 ~ THE WHIRLWIND

    Although I was less than kind to Anya, it also served as my life¡¯s most heartfelt moment. I often reflected on her situation¡ªhow broken and vulnerable she had to feel inside. How her tears felt like they came from my own eyes. I sincerely met up with her for only one reason; to give her marriage some much needed oxygen by setting out to prove the grass wasn¡¯t greener on the other side. Playing the solitary role of a honey bee pollinating flowers in the garden of her marriage. After she shared her husband¡¯s multiple infidelities, it rattled the bee in me enough to use its stinger, the only defense mechanism I had, leaving her stranded¡ªwhile killing the empathy in me in order to save my own heart. On the night I walked away from Anya, I came home and soundly slept. The following days that turned into months, though, allowed me time to construct an irritable ideology, whether out of guilt or compassion, on how she must have felt. Although I greatly wanted her pain and resentment to subside, unbeknownst to her, I¡¯ve opened up my heart to the pain of two women before her¡ªbeing left aggrieved by them regardless of the empathy I showed. I never intended to hurt her; I just couldn¡¯t afford to get caught headfirst in the flame again.

    When Alan and I returned home from San Francisco, we went to dinner to discuss our plan for the new audits we had. My days usually began at eight in the morning and ran all the way up until ten in the evening. Most of those days were split between time spent at a client¡¯s office and my home office in Irvine. I¡¯ve had similar days, like this one resembling a partner¡¯s, when I¡¯d jump on a plane for a quick meeting followed by a dinner after the return flight, but they happened only a few times a year. During this particular dinner, Alan wanted to thank me and to know what I thought of Mr. Caiaphas.

    ¡°I found him to be quite gregarious.¡± I smiled. ¡°Much more than I am.¡±

    ¡°That he was!¡± Laughed Alan, unfolding a napkin upon his lap. ¡°Truly.¡±

    ¡°I really liked what he had to say about the importance of family and cementing relationships with all those around him¡­building loyalty and trust.¡± I stated, placing the cloth napkin upon my lap as well. ¡°He¡¯s a total character client. Not that we have a bad clientele, but he has the money behind him to take the firm to levels unprecedented.¡±

    ¡°I agree. I think we¡¯d be lucky to have his business.¡± He nodded. ¡°A diamond in the rough.¡±

    ¡°Do you think we have a good chance at landing him?¡±

    ¡°The one thing I¡¯ve learned in this business over the years, Landyn, is that nothing is what it seems until you have a signed engagement letter in your hand.¡± He informed me. ¡°Until then, I will say this¡­thanks to you, I like our chances.¡±

    When I first started with KSR, it was natural to be intimidated by Mr. Kanian. I had to pass by his office each time walking into work, and purposely increased my pace to avoid a conversation. Fearing he would quiz me on my accounting knowledge, then finding out how little I knew, he would then fire me. In my second year, I felt a little more comfortable and when we did talk, it was about everything but accounting. By year three he was reviewing my workpapers in front of me. Although I made a few simple errors from time to time, he always ribbed me good naturedly¡ªeven admitting to making even worse mistakes in his career¡¯s early years. Now, five months into year six at the firm, I felt comfortable enough to call him a friend as much as a boss.

    A week later, I was scheduled for an audit engagement in Hesperia, about a ninety-minute drive from the Irvine home office. I referred to it as Despairia because the location was out in the high desert among the tumbleweeds. The area often experienced high wind advisories and it wasn¡¯t unusual to see tipped over semis on the freeway due to the strong gusts. A potential treacherous drive worried me a bit, especially at sundown after working ten plus hours and having a long drive home in heavy traffic. With all the driving over the last six years without a single accident or even a close call, I feared my luck may run out.

    I normally oversaw a staff of three¡ªa Senior Auditor, who ran the engagement, and two Staff Auditors who assisted the Senior. Since the Senior on the Despairia job was on vacation, I assumed his role on the audit. The problem was, my rate was almost double that of a Senior. In order to keep the job under budget, removing one of the Audit Staff off the job was a must. That person usually gets reassigned to another audit, but it throws off their schedule a bit. I remember being thrown to the wolves during my first job as an Audit Staff. The Senior on the job basically tossed a cash audit program on my lap, leaving me alone to figure things out at the client¡¯s office. When asked to introduce myself to everyone on my first day, I told my coworkers and superiors I passed all four parts of the CPA exam on my first sitting. There was no intention to brag about myself, but more about an extension of my low sense of self-worth¡­I just didn¡¯t want my coworkers to think I wasn¡¯t qualified enough. It ended up being a big-time rookie mistake. Either the manager my first day had a ton of faith in me or took my achievement personally¡ªit felt like the latter. I simply didn¡¯t realize most seniors and even managers, who were with the firm for years, had yet to pass it. From that point on, I stayed mum on telling others I¡¯ve passed the CPA exam, let alone passing it the first time taking it. Learning on the fly paralyzed me enough to go well over budgets my first year¡ªI never wanted them to experience the same stress regardless of the budget constraints. The firm didn¡¯t spend their time and money on their recruitment just to see them quit. To throw our audit staff to the wolves would be undermining the entire recruiting and hiring process. It was my duty to give the firm¡¯s newbies an even better shot at being more successful than I was.

    ¡°Mr. Lastman?¡± Squeaked Nicole Ayers, the lone remaining staff auditor on the Despairia engagement, in a distressed tone.

    ¡°You okay, Nikki?¡±

    ¡°Not really.¡± She said, her fingers running through her dark brown hair. ¡°I can¡¯t get this schedule to reconcile¡ªI¡¯m off by three thousand six hundred dollars.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s our deminimus?¡±

    ¡°Thirty-five hundred.¡±

    ¡°I guess we better look at it then. Can you email the recon to me?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± She sighed; her fingers frantically poking the keys on the laptop. ¡°Sent.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Let¡¯s see what¡¯s goin¡¯ on here.¡±

    When her small olive cheekbones turned red and her light blue eyes began to swell with water, I knew she was super frustrated. I hoped to save her the worry¡ªanything below our calculated materiality deminimus we could pass on reviewing due to its immateriality. Since the amount was a hundred dollars over our deminimus, though, we had to investigate and reconcile the difference. I¡¯m sure Nikki beat up the account enough to be frustrated¡ªlike striking a pinata for a half hour only to learn there¡¯s no candy inside. A simple query to a client usually prevented us from spinning our wheels, but I preferred having that kind of face time with company executives rather than the newbies. I instructed my audit staff to give me any questions they had before approaching the client about them. The newbies usually had a hard time understanding how to reconcile variances in their first year, and I wanted to protect them from any client hostility. Nikki was really sharp, but like most who cared about doing a good job, it was easy to get frustrated when things went wrong. How do I know this? Because I expected a lot from myself too. Take it from someone who passed the CPA exam the first time he ever took it¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter, nothing could prepare someone for the inevitable stress from ¡°real world¡± situations you encounter in your professional accounting career.

    ¡°It looks like they didn¡¯t record a disposal on the sale of one of their vehicles. It¡¯s still on their books.¡± I said, quickly noting how the fixed asset schedule she sent me didn¡¯t agree to our tax report. ¡°How would you handle this entry, Nikki?¡±

    ¡°I have to be honest¡­I¡¯ve never done an entry on a disposal before, Mr. Lastman.¡± She disclosed, her voice cracking. ¡°Am I in trouble for not knowing? Mr. Kash got upset with me the last time I couldn¡¯t answer his question about an entry.¡±

    Kevin and I had different managing styles when it came to communication with our staff. He treated their early professional growth as a hazing opportunity, no doubt experiencing flashbacks from his frat days. He even hazed me when I was new, but my skin was thicker back then. For the most part he was fair with his subordinates, but he intentionally tested them to see if they were partner material. I feared losing great future partners by testing my audit staff the way he did, and steered myself away from doing so. Who was I to discourage anyone from pursuing a career with KSR? I never cared for being judged and refused to do so in a condescending manner to anyone else. I knew the fear of losing my dreams all too well and had no right to take someone else¡¯s away from them, unless they just didn¡¯t care about the opportunities they had. When I noticed Nikki¡¯s eyes swelling even more, she seemed to be experiencing a Kevin Kash flashback.

    ¡°Nikki, I¡¯m here to help you grow professionally, not to judge you.¡± I consoled. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid of not knowing anything¡ªwe all learn through experience. Nobody comes straight from the womb knowing this stuff.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I graduated with honors from UCLA.¡± She told me. ¡°I should know this.¡±

    ¡°Hey, school is great, but the real world is much different. I¡¯m here to set you up to be successful¡­not to fail.¡± I replied, hoping to ease her mind. ¡°Just take a shot at it. What would you do?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    ¡°Just think about it for a second. How do we get the vehicle off the books?¡± I asked, hinting to the first step of the entry.

    ¡°I would¡­credit the asset and debit the accumulated depreciation?¡± She answered, her wide eyes full of hope and doubt.

    ¡°Alright¡­I have another question for you.¡± I said, bringing my eyes back to my lap top screen.

    ¡°Yes?¡± She wondered with distress in her voice.

    I then turned my face to her and smiled.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you lie to me about not knowing the entry?¡± I replied.

    ¡°I got it right?¡±

    ¡°You nailed it! Then you just debit the cash from the sale, or whatever the fair market value of the asset they received in return was and then plug the difference.¡± I added. ¡°If the plug is a debit, it¡¯s a loss and if it¡¯s a credit, a gain.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s that easy?¡± She smiled, wiping a tear from her eye.

    ¡°Eazy Peezy.¡± I replied, softly touching her right shoulder with my left fist.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it was that easy. I stressed out for nothing.¡±

    ¡°The only hard thing was overcoming your fear¡­that¡¯s never easy for anyone who is just starting off their accounting career.¡± I said while reconciling the schedule for her on my laptop. ¡°You knew the answer all along. All you have to do is stay confident in your ability. This isn¡¯t brain surgery. Don¡¯t let the way Kevin responds affect your confidence. You wouldn¡¯t have been hired if the partners believed you couldn¡¯t do this.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Lastman. I¡¯ll remember that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been where you are, Nikki. Don¡¯t hesitate to ask me anything.¡± I reassured. ¡°I just sent you back the schedule so you can go ahead and propose an entry to the client. They were the ones who screwed up here.¡±

    When Nikki started to laugh, I felt relieved. The client provided our tax department with the vehicle sale documents but neglected to record the sale on their books¡ªwhere the true incompetence came from, but that¡¯s what we¡¯re here for.

    ¡°Mr. Lastman?¡±

    ¡°What now?¡± I joked, but expecting another accounting related question. ¡°I¡¯m kidding!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna give me a heart attack!¡± She laughed.

    ¡°I was totally joking. I couldn¡¯t help it.¡± I smiled. ¡°I have to entertain myself sometimes.¡±

    ¡°This question is completely off topic but you¡¯re on Myspace, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Her question threw me off. I had a Myspace account but rarely used it, having only a few friends on there, with none of them being people I worked with.

    ¡°I do.¡± I confirmed. ¡°I guess the cat is out of the bag.¡±

    ¡°My friends and I came upon it.¡± She revealed.

    ¡°How¡¯d you even find it?¡± I laughed.

    ¡°Promise you won¡¯t be mad?¡±

    ¡°Mad? I think I¡¯m more concerned about your well-being after seeing my picture. You didn¡¯t deserve that.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on Mr. Lastman. Stop it.¡± She hit me. ¡°Some of the female audit staff thinks you¡¯re a hotditor.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°Hot, Auditor¡­a Hotditor.¡± She laughed. ¡°You¡¯ve never heard that before? Come on, you know it¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°A hotditor? Never have and nothing could be further from the truth.¡± I said shaking my head. ¡°They must have had way too much to drink at our last happy hour or somethin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± She confirmed. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re in the office, they always say ¡°the hotditor is here today¡±.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very nice of them, but they need to schedule eye examinations.¡± I replied, unable to look at her. ¡°They¡¯re due for checkups.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please! We should schedule our next happy hour at that bar you go to!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°Sonomas, right?¡±

    ¡°We can go anywhere else but there.¡± I said, making sure I made eye contact with her so she knew I meant it.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll admit we were just tryin¡¯ to cheer up my friend¡¯s roommate when we checked out your Myspace account the other night.¡± Nikki revealed.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your friend?¡± I asked, thankfully breaking away from the prior conversation.

    ¡°She broke up with her boyfriend last week¡­I told her about you.¡±

    ¡°You did?¡±

    ¡°I told her you were a super sweet guy and she wanted to see your picture, sooo¡­that¡¯s how we found you on Myspace.¡±

    Landyn Lastman; sweet guy extraordinaire¡ªI¡¯ve heard that one before. If a girl was willing to date a guy because he was ¡°sweet¡±, could she have been very attractive? I¡¯ve learned after thirty-seven lonely years, if she was attractive, the last thing she wanted was a sweet guy¡­unless she was married. Being a part of this movie before and knowing how it ended, I tried to dismiss myself from being the booby prize.

    ¡°And she¡¯s still your friend¡¯s roommate after showing her a picture of me? She might need to flush her eyes out with water after that experience.¡±

    ¡°Come on. Mr. Lastman¡­grow up and accept you¡¯re a cute guy.¡±

    ¡°Puppies are cute, Nikki.¡± I replied, turning my blushing face away from her and to my laptop screen.¡± ¡°Not old dogs.¡±

    ¡°Well, she must be into old dogs because she wants to meet you.¡± She divulged. ¡°Would you go out on a date with her? She¡¯s really pretty.¡±

    The last thing I expected to receive from helping my audit staff was a date proposal with her roommate¡¯s friend. When Nikki said she was ¡°really pretty¡±, I had to admit it got my interest¡­ until I remembered women usually said that when they tried to sell each other. If it had come from another man, I could easily put trust in such a proclamation. Nikki was always friendly, but never giving the impression she cared about my dating status. Then again, being so zeroed in on my career I didn¡¯t notice much¡ªespecially anything said about me being a ¡°hotditor¡±. Every male at KSR must have been a hotditor on some level if I received the title. Although nearly seven years had passed since Denise left me, if I still couldn¡¯t find it in my heart again to believe in love, then I¡¯d only be wasting her friend¡¯s time. Facts were facts¡ªI¡¯ve had nothing but bad luck with women and nothing has ever gone right with any of them. I couldn¡¯t afford to have another relationship go sour¡ªparticularly making my respected colleagues privy to my failures with women as well. I needed to talk myself out of this.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say¡­¡± I said, hoping my hotditor status wouldn¡¯t be affected.

    ¡°Just say you will.¡± Answered Nikki.

    ¡°I¡¯m flattered¡­really I am¡­but I just can¡¯t.¡± I told her. ¡°I don¡¯t have much luck in the dating arena¡­it¡¯s not a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Come on, Mr. Lastman. Please? She¡¯s really sweet¡­and what did you just tell me?¡±

    ¡°What did I just tell you?¡±

    ¡°About overcoming our fears?¡± She clarified.

    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± I replied, struggling to come up with a good response.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright to practice what you preach every now and then.¡± Smiled Nikki, quickly blinking her eyes daring me to try and find a way out of that one.

    ¡°I¡¯ve created a monster.¡± I succumbed.

    ¡°A good one, not a scary one!¡± She laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll send you her Myspace address¡ªher name is Alexia Molten. Just send her an e-mail.¡±

    It was truly amazing that my new credo about how accounting and life was about overcoming one¡¯s fears could bite me so quickly in the arse. It also made me realize how fear ruled my life since Denise vacated it. I just struggled with loss more than most people¡ªthe price for being a passionate person. I had become so afraid to feel only to lose again, that it paralyzed my life, but what if I was better suited to love and not lose this time around? There¡¯s no doubt my life improved after losing Denise. I had my own place, drove a nice car and was financially sound. How was it possible to just write off love after becoming a man with something to offer? I didn¡¯t believe I was a ¡®hotditor¡¯, but I only needed the woman I loved to believe that nonsense. Why was I still holding onto this fear of disappointment? How could I continue living in a treeless world when all I needed was one seed in the ground to breathe again? Who the hell did I think I was? Nikki was right¡ªI needed to practice what I preached. I couldn¡¯t walk around giving advice to others without taking it myself. When life changes, we have to evolve, and that included my fear of falling in love. The only thing I had left to lose were my feelings of self-doubt. I had to start from somewhere again, why not with someone who might appreciate me?

    ¡°Alexia, huh.¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Alexia Molten.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a date then.¡± I smiled, as I clasped my hands together. ¡°Sounds like fun.¡±

    ¡°More fun than Mateo¡¯s!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Sonomas! Get with the program.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sooo sorry.¡± She mocked. ¡°Sonomas¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right¡­and don¡¯t you forget it!¡± I scolded jokingly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let her know the hotditor is goin¡¯ to email her.¡± She giggled.

    All I could do was shake my head and smile at this point. Whether I believed that was true or not was irrelevant¡ªI could use the pick me up.

    A few days later I finally found the time, but mostly the courage, to sign into Myspace to email Alexia. Whether she was attractive or not, I planned to ask if she wanted to meet regardless¡ªto remain in Nikki¡¯s good graces. When I signed in, the first thing I noticed was an unread email in my inbox. When I opened it, it floored me¡ªAlexia had beaten me to the punch, even asking for a friend request. What left me unable to speak, though, wasn¡¯t her thoughtful nature but how stunningly attractive she was¡ªso much so this had to be a prank. I figured this was karma from all my prank calling days. After all I¡¯ve been through, I knew being attracted to someone didn¡¯t matter much if a woman lacked empathy, and although their physical appearance never held the greatest weight with me, I had to make an exception¡ªAlexia¡¯s bordered the spectacular. As I read her Myspace profile to get a more accurate picture of who she was, I learned that beyond her long straight light brown hair and vivid green eyes, she was educated and a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic. I then measured myself up to her, immediately feeling she was too good for me¡ªthe kind of guy men would look at and wonder if she was partially blind or if I was massively rich or hung. Then again, I¡¯ve never come face to face with the great white whale, and maybe, just maybe, a hopeless romantic would appreciate meeting another.

    I responded back to her email and we decided to meet at the Good Morning Caf¨¦¡ªthe same venue I had my one and done date with Carrie a little over six months ago. I had a couple of more reasons to feel better about my chances better this time around. The first being, this date was essentially setup with the help of someone who already knew me, even thinking highly enough of me to make it a reality. The second, as crazy as this might sound, was how well written Alexia¡¯s email was¡ªnot one grammar mistake and even the commas were in the right place. Once you¡¯ve had your heart broken a few times, you start paying attention to every single detail that can save you from heartache. You start to pick things apart just to avoid being in another position to be hurt. Alexia¡¯s attention to details made me feel important to her; someone she not only planned to give a chance to but also wanted to impress. I knew all about painful breakups, and I didn¡¯t know if we were made for each other, but I was certain about one thing¡ªwe were at least destined to meet. If things went well on this date, I had a strong feeling it could be the last first date for both of us.

    On the night of our date, I was there a half hour early hoping to find a secluded spot for us. Since it was a warm Thursday evening, the inside of the caf¨¦ was empty compared to the outside patio area. Upon entering the coffee shop, a sense of gratitude flowed through me when recalling Carrie¡¯s barely touched latte after she drove away my last time here¡ªfinding it a shame I couldn¡¯t thank her for allowing me the opportunity to meet a far better match. Seeing the table I wanted was open, I placed my cell phone down on its surface to save it. I then promptly got in line behind two other people¡ªI needed to get some caffeine in me before she arrived in twenty minutes. Since Alexia liked white mochas, I decided to get her a drink too. While waiting in line, a loud voice suddenly blared incoherently throughout the caf¨¦.

    ¡°Fifteen years in the Huntington Beach school district as a TEACHER! Don¡¯t tell me I don¡¯t KNOW! I got an education in school and from the STREETS! Odelay Holmes!¡±

    I turned around to see a gray-haired thickset gentleman, possibly in his early sixties with his hands cupped against his mouth as if he had a megaphone. He wore a shiny white and blue jacket with light blue jeans and was sitting at the lone table next to the front counter. This man should¡¯ve been wearing a purple blazer since he had everyone¡¯s attention in the place. After hearing the greatest blanket statement ever uttered, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder who it was meant for¡ªlet alone, where it came from. The worrisome part wasn¡¯t only from its place of origin, but how it was followed by an ¡®Odelay Holmes¡¯¡ªhe was the most Caucasian man I¡¯ve ever seen. My eyes then somehow fell in the direction of his red and blue trimmed tube socks, bulging with something of value to him. Upon noticing a graveyard of ripped open pink packages of sugar substitute on top of his table, it suggested why his socks resembled Christmas stockings. Before I could turn away, he caught me in the middle of my observation.

    ¡°Hey! I remember YOU!¡± He announced to the ten or so patrons in the caf¨¦ as he sprung from his chair.

    At first, mostly because I would¡¯ve definitely remembered meeting him, I thought he was talking to someone else. After staring directly at me for ten seconds awaiting a response, it was now my duty to jog his memory.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir. I think you have me confused with someone else¡­¡± I answered nervously, this guy had to be on something more than sugar substitute.

    ¡°No. You were here with a pretty brunette¡­GORGEOUS!¡± He bellowed with an excitement all his own and with a hand covering his mouth.

    Nothing in the entire world made me more uncomfortable than being the center of attention¡ªa position I could only stomach with alcohol. At least ten people inside the cafe were relieved he didn¡¯t know them, and who likely thought we were two lost pals reunited after spending years in the same sanitarium. The fact he covered his mouth while speaking to me, as if any part of this conversation was secret, seemed to suggest he was missing a few hundred marbles. Each time he nodded sternly when finishing a sentence, it was only natural for me to wonder if serial killers had their own morse code.

    ¡°I apologize, Sir¡­I believe you have me mixed up with someone else.¡± I politely responded, taking a step away from him, placing my right hand on my chest and shaking my head. ¡°That wasn¡¯t me.¡±

    ¡°No. I never forget a FACE!¡± He exclaimed then nodding his head, his hand still treating this as a top secret conversation. ¡°It was about six months ago¡­MAYBE FIVE! Gorgeous brunette¡­a KNOCK OUT!¡±

    Only after he provided this recollection did it hit me¡ªhe remembered my date with Carrie. Not only was it crazy he remembered us, but how the hell did I never notice him in such a small cafe? Then again, my eyes and ears were elsewhere that day.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a memory you have there, Sir.¡± I replied, hoping it would calm him down a bit. ¡°I was in here with a girl, a brunette, about six months ago.¡±

    ¡°I never forget a FACE!¡± He exclaimed, while extending the hand not covering his mouth to me. ¡°My name is Dave. DAVE HUMBLE.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± I obliged, reluctantly meeting his gesture while hoping he wouldn¡¯t ask for my name.

    ¡°I remember YOU!¡± He reminded me. ¡°I have a memory like the SEA! I¡¯m the old man¡­FROM THE SEA! Odelay Holmes!¡±

    I had moved one spot in line, but no doubt it took longer since everyone¡¯s eyes in the caf¨¦ were on us. As I stood there, frozen with trepidation thinking Alexia would walk in any second then run for the hills, he placed his free hand lightly on my left shoulder.

    ¡°I was a teacher in the Huntington Beach school district for fifteen years.¡± He stated again but in a much lower tone. ¡°If you were one of my students, I¡¯d still be teaching. You¡¯re as quiet as a mouse. I¡¯m loud; north¡­south, but I met a killer whale¡ªstuck my head in its mouth.¡±

    When he mentioned ¡°killer whale¡±, it brought me back to when a particular water park, Aquaticland, closed down when I was eight years old. I always wanted to go but never got the chance to¡ªit was only twenty minutes away from my parent¡¯s house.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t Aquaticland have to close down because of a killer whale mishap?¡± I asked, attempting to make sense of his level of crazy since he claimed to have a good memory. ¡°Do you remember anything about that?¡±

    ¡°NO.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°I had a playboy playmate in my MERCEDES!¡± He expounded.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I wondered thoroughly confused.

    ¡°I still have my head though.¡± He nodded, his hand never leaving his mouth. ¡°No more killer whales for ME! I¡¯m back HOME.¡±

    As he sat back down then grabbing a newspaper from a plastic grocery store bag sitting on the free chair at his table, I had no idea how to respond.

    ¡°Good to see you again. Take care.¡± He calmly said, his head now buried into his newspaper.

    I found it very conscientious of him to time the end of his rant with it being my time to order. Even he had to question what the purpose of our conversation was but it did allow me to come to at least one conclusion¡ªhe had no clue why Aquaticland had to close down years ago. He clearly had some things to get off his chest, whatever they were, leaving me with no choice but to be of service to him. After I ordered our drinks, I brought them to the secluded table I envisioned us having for our date. Before I could take a sip of my atrial fuel, I heard an ¡®all too familiar¡¯ voice yelling my name.

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    ¡°Landyn! Dude! What are you doin¡¯ here!¡±

    With ten minutes left on the clock before Alexia walked through the door, it was none other than Mitch Black in his trademark Velcro strap shoes.

    ¡°Hey.¡± I raised my right hand to acknowledge him as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

    ¡°It sure is a nice night¡­¡± He exclaimed, his eyes scoping out the place while walking towards me. ¡°to meet some ladies here at the Caf¨¦!¡±

    When he made sure everyone in the place heard his intentions, I put my head into my hands and shook my head. If Alexia meets Mitch, she is going to run out of here sooner than Carrie did. I had about nine minutes to find a way to lose him before she arrived.

    ¡°You¡¯re on your own there.¡± I said, standing from my chair and pointing in the direction of Dave, his head still buried in a newspaper. ¡°Just know you have some stiff competition right there, my friend.¡±

    ¡°What are you talkin¡¯ bout?¡±

    ¡°That crazy guy right there.¡± I replied in a low tone, jerking my head over in Dave¡¯s direction. ¡°You¡¯ll have to step up your game¡­he has dibs on this place.¡±

    ¡°That guy? Dave?¡± He acknowledged, looking over and pointing right at him while I hid my face in my hands again. ¡°He¡¯s not crazy, man. Dave¡¯s cool.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, right¡­you knew who I was referrin¡¯ to before I even mentioned his name.¡±

    ¡°Trust me¡­he¡¯s not crazy.¡± Mitch said in a surprisingly leveled down tone. ¡°Dave¡¯s just misunderstood.¡±

    ¡°Mitch.¡± I replied shaking my head, looking down at Dave¡¯s bulging socks. ¡°The man should be in a straitjacket.¡±

    ¡°The dude¡¯s been through some rough times.¡± Defended Mitch, as I took another sip of my cappuccino. ¡°How would you deal with life after goin¡¯ through five divorces?¡±

    Choking on my drink, I tried to recover to respond.

    ¡°Five times?¡¯ I struggled to say, while coughing.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it requires a measurable amount of insanity to get married again after the first time?¡±

    ¡°Some people actually believe in love.¡± Clarified Mitch.

    ¡°What!¡± I said, wondering what kind of alternative universe I found myself in. ¡°Is that what you think it is? Love?¡±

    ¡°No doubt, dude.¡±

    ¡°If it was love, don¡¯t you think at least one of his marriages would¡¯ve lasted?¡± I countered, trying to reason with the unreasonable.

    ¡°Whatever¡­you don¡¯t know a damn thing.¡±

    ¡°I would like to think I know what love is and what it isn¡¯t.¡± I shot. ¡°Now if you would please excuse me, I¡¯m meeting someone here in five minutes and I need to make a good first impression.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re meeting that married chick here?¡± He stated, raising his right hand to me. ¡°I¡¯m gonna smack you if you are.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not her.¡± I answered, hoping he would leave me alone and walk away.

    ¡°Good¡­I don¡¯t like her. She reminds me of my phony ex.¡±

    ¡°Mitch, all because someone reminds you of your ex doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re the same person. You don¡¯t even know her and already you¡¯re passing judgment on her. You¡¯re doin¡¯ the same thing a racist does.¡± I reprimanded. ¡°Not every woman is evil.¡±

    ¡°I know she¡¯s a liar.¡± He stated. ¡°That¡¯s all I need to know about her to make a judgment call.¡±

    ¡°She actually liked me and she wanted me to like her too.¡± I said, putting my cup back on the table. ¡°So, she stole a moment of happiness in her life. Big deal¡ªno harm done.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, because I forced her to show you the rock on her finger.¡± He replied, pointing at his left hand¡¯s ring finger.

    ¡°So, you¡¯ve always been honest with women you meet at Sonomas about your life when you¡¯re busy choppin¡¯ wood?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not married.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still misrepresenting yourself.¡± I asserted. ¡°You¡¯re not providing them with full disclosure. Intentional omission makes you a liar too.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I know everything there is to know about that chick.¡±

    ¡°Name one thing.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s married.¡±

    ¡°Other than the obvious.¡± I sighed, my eyes rolling into my head.

    ¡°Listen¡­¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯ve dated married women before¡ªI know how they are.¡±

    ¡°What? How come you¡¯ve never told me this before?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to think less of me.¡±

    Mitch pissed away opportunities in life I¡¯ve had to work years for just to dream about having. He basically resided in a place that made Oscar the Grouch¡¯s living arrangements seem lavish. He¡¯s even catapulted himself at innocent women in bars and mouth raped one against her will yet he was worried about me thinking less of him?

    ¡°You gotta be kidding.¡± I grinned.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious as a heart attack.¡±

    ¡°Impossible...I couldn¡¯t think any less of you than I already do.¡± I laughed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny, alright?¡± He scolded.

    ¡°I apologize. I don¡¯t find your dating circumstances funny, just your contradictive nature.¡±

    ¡°I just know they¡¯re all dishonest.¡± He said, shaking his head. ¡°At least the four I¡¯ve dated were.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve dated four married women?¡±

    ¡°Whoa¡­let me back up. I lied about that.¡±

    ¡°Thank God.¡± I said, relieved to hear he had a conscience.

    ¡°Five.¡± He corrected, then nodded. ¡°It was five¡­forgot one there.¡±

    ¡°Let me get this straight¡­¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°You mean to tell me you hold this huge grudge against your ex, who cheated on you, yet here you are actively supporting it by dating married women?¡± I pointed out. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound a little hypocritical to you?¡±

    ¡°Dude, just hear me out.¡± Objected Mitch, extending his palms out like a traffic cop telling me to stop. ¡°This Anya chick is nothin¡¯ but an attention whore who¡¯s gotten bored with her marriage. Her husband probably neglects her so much her needs aren¡¯t bein¡¯ met¡ªit¡¯s the only reason she was interested in you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± I told him, shooing him away afraid Alexia could walk in at any second.

    ¡°You¡¯re somethin¡¯ new in her life¡­somethin¡¯ fresh and exciting.¡± He continued. ¡°If she was married to you, she¡¯d eventually get bored with you too then do the same thing. You¡¯re nothin¡¯ special...it¡¯s all an illusion¡ªyou¡¯re only fillin¡¯ a void in her marriage.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful.¡± I told him. ¡°Can you please leave now?¡±

    ¡°Let me finish.¡± He demanded, ignoring my pleas. ¡°I¡¯m not sayin¡¯ she¡¯s a totally bad person but you got the calm before the storm. Did she tell you she¡¯s not ¡°in love¡± with her husband anymore?¡±

    ¡°She might have.¡± I replied, hoping it ended his diatribe. ¡°Thanks for the advice, it was good seein¡¯ you¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, guess what Dude? People in marriages fall out of love all the time. That¡¯s what happens.¡± He informed me, as I looked away in frustration. ¡°All you would be is marriage support for her at best¡ªsomeone to latch onto to meet her needs; a shoulder to bitch on.¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll never know¡­now if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­¡±

    ¡°Once the excitement wears off for her, she¡¯s goin¡¯ to let you go as fast as she approached you at Sonomas.¡± Further rambled Mitch. ¡°I could see right through her¡ªshe¡¯s a fraud.¡±

    All I could do was roll my eyes upwards and shake my head. Not only was he pissing me off with his assumptions but was also threatening to ruin my meeting with Alexia.

    ¡°Land, I just call em¡¯ like I see em¡¯.¡± He said, finally sensing my opposition to his analysis. ¡°I¡¯ve seen this too many times. Trust me, man¡­she¡¯s no different than the married women I¡¯ve been with. It¡¯s all about her. She¡¯ll rip your heart from out of your chest and eat it in front of you¡­like you never meant a thing to her.¡±

    ¡°For your information, this lecture of yours was a complete waste of time because I have zero intentions of ever dating her.¡± I fiercely stated. ¡°However, it¡¯s not because she¡¯s a ¡®selfish bitch¡¯ or because she¡¯s a ¡®liar¡¯ or even because she¡¯s an ¡®attention whore¡¯ or whatever else you think she is.¡±

    ¡°I think that pretty much sums it up.¡± Interjected Mitch.

    ¡°It¡¯s not because of any of the things you think¡­it¡¯s because she is married.¡± I said sternly. ¡°I place a value on the institution of marriage unlike you. I respect her marriage whether she loves her husband or not. It¡¯s that simple. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Good. I¡¯m meetin¡¯ someone, who will be walkin¡¯ through that door any minute now, who happens to not be married. Do you have any advice for me regarding dating single women?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°Great, so can you go get your drink and let me enjoy my date in peace?¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± He replied, nodding his head with suspicious eyes. ¡°I¡¯m gonna leave you.¡±

    ¡°Much appreciated.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m stickin¡¯ around long enough to see if you¡¯re really not meetin¡¯ her here.¡±

    ¡°Trust me¡ªit¡¯s not Anya.¡± I reassured him. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He told me as he started to walk away backwards, pointing a finger at me. ¡°We shall see.¡±

    I kept my eyes on him while sipping my cappuccino, daring him to stick around. His concern was appreciated, but all because his immoral ass dated five horrible women didn¡¯t mean Anya was horrible too. He didn¡¯t know her enough to pass judgment on her. He didn¡¯t hear what I heard. He didn¡¯t see what I saw and most importantly¡ªhe didn¡¯t feel what I felt. He didn¡¯t know about her husband¡¯s infidelities, or the truth, enough to make a valid assessment of her. He didn¡¯t know I left her at the bar alone in tears. He didn¡¯t even know me, let alone how I gave up on love years ago. The less he knew the better off he was, and the better off I was too. I could never deny I had felt something for Anya¡ªsomething I¡¯ve never felt before, but turning my back on that feeling seemed to be the best decision I¡¯ve made in my life. Being irrational about love was not an option anymore. It would¡¯ve been nice if things were different in her life, but they weren¡¯t and I had to turn the page on her.

    I didn¡¯t believe in love anymore, but approached meeting Alexia as whole heartedly as I did Denise. Although fearing the possibility of being hurt again, the risk seemed to be less than before¡ªI simply had more to offer someone than I did in the past. My mind still wandered from time to time from Denise¡¯s impact, but dreams of her coming back to me one day had died. It took me a long time to get over the finality of it from the lack of closure she never afforded me. It felt different with Alexia because there seemed to be no strings attached with her, especially a ring. When you¡¯re secure financially, and your future looks bright, you¡¯re naturally less fearful. I shouldn¡¯t have had high hopes about meeting her but it was hard not to¡ªespecially when there¡¯s a chance someone can give you a reason to believe in the goodness of life. Nothing had ever come easy for me, even the things I always thought would be easy to have. Things most people had in life. The hope of building a family and a future with someone. The type of girl who could make sense of all my failures with women. After all these years, after I swore off love, I still sought out the good in people. If she truly was the thoughtful person who emailed me first, who showed a genuine interest in getting to know me, I¡¯d pour my heart and soul into her. Hell, I might even try to make the world a better place. It was just nice to put a face on hope again. The only remaining void in my life was never meeting the right one. The timing with Alexia seemed to be right, and if she was the real deal, I was willing to fall one more time for the last time.

    When Alexia walked inside the caf¨¦, dressed in a petite powder blue mini dress with white open toed heels, I spotted her right away. I also couldn¡¯t ignore the one hundred eighty-degree spin Mitch made when he noticed her walk by him. To my surprise, she spotted me right away as well, even smiling when I rose to greet her. While we embraced, Dave poked his head from behind his shuffling newspaper then vigorously shook his head as if he was imagining things. He then buried his head back into his periodical, but quickly reappeared from it several more times to make sure his eyes weren¡¯t playing tricks on him. Pulling her seat out, she looked up at me and smiled before sitting. After taking a seat across from her, I could see both Dave and Mitch staring right at me confirming how attractive Alexia was. Even Nikki¡¯s description of her being ¡°really pretty¡± was an understatement. Struggling to hold the laughter inside from the looks on their faces, Alexia¡¯s lively green eyes suggested she had something on her mind.

    ¡°Would you mind if we sat on the couch instead?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Absolutely.¡± I said, in complete shock she wanted to share the small couch.

    As we both rose from our chairs and moved to the maroon and gold couch behind us, I noticed she stood an inch taller than me. Chalking up the height difference to her heels, I hoped she wouldn¡¯t count that as a strike against me. Then again, she had to know the couch was a tight fit and our legs would likely touch each other if my height bothered her. I just hoped she was truly fine with it because I was more than okay with the new seating arrangements. The minute we sat down on the much softer surface, our legs had no choice but to touch, lending a little more intimacy to a first date than I was used to. Compared to my last date with Carrie, this meeting was off to a truly promising start. In Carrie¡¯s defense, I opened myself up way too much too soon¡ªeven talking about love to the point that it made her feel uncomfortable. With Alexia, I planned to keep it light and not show my hand. This time, though, I wasn¡¯t bluffing¡ªI had a solid hand to play.

    After we sat, we began to exchange first date pleasantries. I thanked her for coming and for emailing me. Before I could pay a compliment on her appearance, she beat me to the punch by complimenting me first. When I handed her the white chocolate mocha, she thanked me for remembering what she liked. I then went to work on setting a light tone for our date. After learning how our days went, Alexia threw me a slurve.

    ¡°So, Landyn.¡± She said, turning to me while curling her hair behind her right ear as she sat to my right. ¡°Have you ever been in love?¡±

    The combination of the hope in her eyes and her unexpected question left me shellshocked¡ªshe must be looking for a way to end the date and walk out of here. After my last date with Carrie, it felt like Alexia had pointed a gun to my face forcing me to determine if there was a bullet in the chamber. My response had to be an honest one, it just couldn¡¯t come with the details I¡¯ve freely given out in the past. It was natural to feel inferior because of my experiences, but this was a new Landyn Lastman. A man who had more reasons to be confident in who he was than nearly seven years ago. Sure, there were guys more handsome and wealthier than me, but were they truly any better? In the past, it was easy to believe I wasn¡¯t good enough for Alexia, or any other attractive girl, but I needed a different mindset on this date. The truth is I¡¯m a caring man. A man who prefers giving rather than taking. A man who would give someone all of me, and not just a part of me I¡¯m willing to give at certain times. A good man capable of saving her from a bad one. Unlike my date with Carrie, I had to get it right this time.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I confessed. ¡°It just never worked out.¡±

    ¡°How come? That¡¯s surprising.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s surprising?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Why didn¡¯t it work out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve found that most people like to think they know what love is¡­¡± I paused, holding my breath knowing my response would kill any further element of surprise why my relationships never worked out for me. ¡°but really have no idea what it means.¡±

    ¡°What gives you that impression?¡±

    ¡°Nowadays saying ¡°I love you¡± are just ends to the means¡ªonly said out of obligation or to achieve peace¡­the divorce rates speak to that.¡± I explained, unable to meet her gaze. ¡°Have you ever been in love?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been in love. I really put myself out there for my last boyfriend, but¡­¡± She trailed, placing her light brown hair behind her right ear again. ¡°he didn¡¯t feel the same way.¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s surprising.¡± I replied, hoping to cheer her up.

    She then smiled, and shifted her body closer to me, then crossing her right leg until it touched mine.

    ¡°How old are you?¡± She inquired.

    ¡°Thirty-seven.¡± I replied, sensing a test from her. ¡°Are you even a day over twenty-one?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re very kind. Thank you. I¡¯m twenty-seven.¡± She blushed. ¡°You look so much younger than thirty-seven.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably because I don¡¯t have any kids.¡± I smiled, taking a sip from my cup. ¡°At least that¡¯s how people tell me.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were thirty-seven.¡±

    ¡°Nikki didn¡¯t tell you?¡±

    ¡°She told me you were older than I was, but never gave me your age.¡±

    ¡°Do you prefer younger men?¡± I asked, expecting the bottom to fall out from under me since things were going pretty well. ¡°A ten-year difference is pretty big. I¡¯d understand.¡±

    I expected this would end our date. Did she really want to be with a fifty-year-old when she turned forty? Alexia could easily get any man she wanted, even a more attractive older man than I was.

    ¡°I¡¯m sick of dating younger guys.¡± She revealed.

    ¡°Is there a reason why?¡± I asked, her response making me feel insecure.

    ¡°They¡¯re just out to have a good time.¡± She expounded, her eyes reaching for the ceiling. ¡°I want a serious long-term relationship and I don¡¯t have time waiting for them to grow up.¡±

    When Alexia told me this, I wished I was ten years younger, so she knew there were young guys who wanted the same thing she did. All my life I¡¯ve been searching for an Alexia, a woman who wanted the real thing. It was nice to know a woman existed who looked for the right things in someone. It was just a shame we both had to be hurt to find it.

    ¡°I was one of those dumb guys when I was in my early twenties. My ex was much more mature than I was back then.¡± I opened up. ¡°But I¡¯ve always wanted a long-term relationship, even in my early twenties¡­to build a family and have kids born from love with. I can¡¯t believe something that should be fairly easy to have has been so difficult.¡±

    ¡°How come you¡¯ve never been married?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve just never been fortunate enough to meet the right one, Alexia.¡± I answered, my eyes falling into hers.

    ¡°Lexi.¡± She said with her kind eyes looking into mine, begging me to open up more. ¡°You can call me Lexi.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± I nodded and smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve met women who were more interested in the kind of car I drive than the kind of man I am. I pretty much gave up on love and started to believe it was meant for other people to have.¡±

    ¡°Why would you think you¡¯re unworthy of love?¡±

    ¡°Well, after watching friends fall in love and get married, being a best man a few times over the years, it made the most sense to me.¡± I tried to explain. ¡°I guess if I believed love was never meant for me, I couldn¡¯t be disappointed or hurt by it.¡±

    ¡°Do you smoke?¡±

    ¡°Never.¡± I laughed, bringing my shirt¡¯s collar to smell it. ¡°Do I smell like smoke?¡±

    ¡°Oh good. Oh no, you don¡¯t.¡± She confirmed. ¡°This date would be over if you smoked.¡±

    ¡°So, it looks like you¡¯re stuck here for a little longer.¡± I smiled, playfully nudging her with my right shoulder.

    ¡°Well, good. I enjoy talking to you.¡± She smiled, moving her body into mine.

    ¡°Me too.¡±

    Her question to me back to when Denise believed I was too good to be true. How she looked for things in me not to like so she could end our relationship. I didn¡¯t mind Lexy doing it in the beginning¡ªsmoking was a pet peeve of mine too. Plus, it was a lot of easier to understand being judged for compatibility over a bad habit than what kind of car I drove. I appreciated Lexi¡¯s preference being brought to my attention at the forefront, and not at the backend of a relationship.

    Lexi smiled then inched her face closer to mine, tucking her hair over her left ear and exposing her bare neck to me¡ªallowing me to smell her sweet scent. At that instant, I wanted to feel her face against mine, softly kiss her neck then bring my lips to taste hers, but decided against it. If she liked me, and she wanted to pursue a serious dating relationship, then there would be time for that. I knew she had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and was likely vulnerable. It was important to respect her emotions¡ªI didn¡¯t want to take advantage of that. For the next two hours, we talked to each other, side by side. She wanted to hear about Karyn and Denise, stories I¡¯ve never shared with anyone before in their entirety. Not knowing the depth of her pain, I only offered mine so she could put it in perspective and not feel alone. When her eyes swelled after I explained how Denise left me to feel, it seemed opening up to her was the right thing to do. I tucked those stories away for so long, afraid to be judged, but they were clearly something she could relate to. The look in her eyes told me there was no way she wouldn¡¯t want to see me again. Nothing had ever felt more like my last first date.

    ¡°Oh, Lexi¡­I¡¯m sorry. Please don¡¯t feel sad for me.¡± I told her. ¡°I just had a couple of bad experiences. Everyone goes through heartache sometime in their life. I¡¯m not special.¡±

    ¡°Your stories just hit really close to home.¡± She spoke, moving her face closer to mine. ¡°I know what it feels like to give someone your heart and for them not to feel the same way. I could never talk to anyone like this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to judge you.¡± I said, touching her face with my hand. ¡°I¡¯m here to get to know you.¡±

    She brought her hand to mine, but before we could show our affection, the barista appeared to tell us they were closing in ten minutes. After being foiled by the caf¨¦ staff, I took notice Crazy Dave and Mitch were both missing in action. That¡¯s when I had the feeling meeting Lexi was meant to be.

    ¡°I totally lost track of the time.¡± She told me. ¡°I should be going.¡±

    ¡°I apologize, I lost track of it too.¡± I replied. ¡°Would you be interested in hangin¡¯ out again?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m already looking forward to it!¡± She smiled, as we stood up from the couch together.

    As we exchanged phone numbers while walking to our cars, I felt secure the date couldn¡¯t have gone any better. After walking to her car, a green Honda CR-V, it felt good to know she was a down to earth person¡ªnot once asking me what kind of car I drove. As we stood behind her car, she purposely turned into me so we could hug. I contemplated kissing her, but thought I¡¯d be no better than the younger men she dated if I made a move. Unlike them, I truly wasn¡¯t looking for just a good time. I wanted the same thing she did¡ªan LTR. I then opened her car door before she got inside, without any flashbacks, something I haven¡¯t done since I dated Denise. Once she was safely inside, I closed the door and waved goodbye to her. I then guided her as she pulled out from her spot, but noticed she had a broken tail light. Before she put her car in drive, I held my hand out to stop her and she rolled down her window.

    ¡°Did you know one of your tail lights is out?¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been needing to get that fixed¡­I¡¯ve been so busy. I don¡¯t know how to do it.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t have time to do it before I see you next time, I can take care of it for you when we meet again.¡± I told her. ¡°It¡¯ll only take a few minutes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s really sweet of you.¡± She said, placing a hand on her heart. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°It would be my pleasure.¡± I said, touched by her appreciation for my gesture. ¡°Have a good night, Lexi. Please drive safe.¡±

    ¡°You too. Goodnight, Landyn.¡±

    As a smiling Lexi rolled up her window, I waved farewell again and sauntered back to my car. On the drive home, it felt like I just left an opium den. I then harnessed my excitement by convincing myself I didn¡¯t have a chance with her if I fell in love. If she sensed it, I¡¯d be a dead man. After losing Denise, showing love was now a fatal act of nonconformity in the loveless world we lived in. I could only reveal my feelings if she communicated similar emotions. It was only natural to use the trauma of my relationship with Denise as a point of reference during the date. When Lexi said ¡°I could never talk to anyone like this¡±, it conjured up memories of Denise when she told me the same thing in an email. The only difference was Denise never complimented me, but Lexi did. To a woman spurned by love, her kind words were a courageous act. During our date, she laughed and even cried. She experienced every emotion known to the human soul in a span of two hours with me¡ªshe had to be the real deal.

    After our date, Lexi inspired me to think of a million and one ideas for our next. I wasn¡¯t cheap and enjoyed the finer things in life¡ªit should be fun getting to know someone new. My emotions meant more to me than money ever did. Comedy clubs and shows were great, but I wanted to do something memorable, like a helicopter ride over the city after dinner at a nice restaurant. Something different and exciting so she knew I wasn¡¯t a calculator toting accountant. I had to admit, the way her lovely green eyes dampened when I told her my story, softened my stance about not believing in love being meant for me. For my words to have resonated within her that much, a stranger really, just spoke to her sincerity. Lexi deserved to meet the guy who existed before Denise¡ªthe one who believed in love. How could I dare punish her for something she wasn¡¯t responsible for? If anyone deserved the guy who believed in love, she did. She had to have felt something for me to be touched that easily¡ªnot even Reese Witherspoon could fake that.

    For the first time in my life, I had to find a way to love myself. I had to be confident in all aspects of who I was and to know loving myself wasn¡¯t arrogant or showing a lack of humility, but rather a need. If I remained positive, refusing to focus on the negative, she would be drawn to me like sun light upon the earth. I¡¯d look like maggots in a trash can to her if any negativity crept in. Lexi was certainly attractive enough to garner attention from many men, but I had to love myself enough to know I could treat her better than any of them. All signs pointed to this working out. I not only had to run with it but sprint. I offered her more than I¡¯ve had to offer anyone before¡ªthe difference this time around. I also couldn¡¯t allow myself to be so fearful of losing that I forgot about winning. By not overanalyzing this, and just taking things as they come, there¡¯s no way this wouldn¡¯t work out. Her interest in me was undeniable¡ªshe showed me many signs. She wanted to sit on a couch to be next to me. She nervously played with her hair when we talked, even purposely exposing her bare neck to me after inching her face closer to mine. After revealing it took a while for her to warm up to people, she seemed to feel comfortable with me the entire time¡ªher eyes and body never straying from mine. When she told me ¡°I¡¯m already looking forward to it¡± after asking if she would like to meet again, how much more did I need to feel great about our first date? How could I find any reason for negativity at all? She felt safe with me, she clearly trusted me. All I had to do was trust myself.

    The day after our date, I visited a local Honda dealership to buy a tail light bulb for her car. Knowing how people tend to forget they are driving a piece of machinery that can kill someone, I didn¡¯t want a tailgater hitting her from behind because her light was out. It was foolish to by worried about someone after just one date, but her sincere reaction to my story deemed her already worth my concern. Later that same evening, I also researched a tax issue she asked me about during our date and the prices for a helicopter ride over the city. I didn¡¯t sleep a wink that night preparing for our second date.

    Because our first date was so promising, I couldn¡¯t get Lexi off my mind. I wanted to call the following day, but feared it might turn her off. When my self-imposed two-day moratorium on calling her elapsed, I left a brief message to say hello and wondering how she was doing. The very second her number appeared on my phone two days later, I immediately answered. After having a short conversation, I asked when she would be available to meet again. She said her schedule was a little hectic and would have to get back to me. Being super busy as well, I completely understood. Things would work out the way they were meant to when the time was right.

    Fearing she may think I¡¯m playing it too cool; I phoned her a few days later, leaving another message for her. This time, she didn¡¯t call me back until a week later. When we talked, she was cordial, but my mind went into protect mode¡ªit seemed odd a girl who looked forward to seeing me would return my call a week later. I knew men and women were different psychologically, but if Lexi called me, she would get a call right back regardless of how busy I was¡ªI didn¡¯t want to jeopardize losing the chance to see her again. Then again, she could¡¯ve easily had things going on she never told me about¡ªI hardly knew her. Maybe they were things she feared may turn me off? Instead of resorting back to my bad experiences with women, I kept my thoughts on forward progress¡ªrelying on my new sense of self-worth.

    As days passed without hearing from her, I struggled to fight my gut feeling. That generally, people who are interested in someone, wouldn¡¯t jeopardize anything to lose them. Like being bitten in the dark by a spider, something didn¡¯t feel right. After the best first date I ever had, I made a rookie mistake by getting my hopes up. So much so, it left me questioning my sanity. Attempting to preemptively avoid going down the rabbit hole any further, I signed into Myspace. I reasoned, if Lexi was too busy to call me back, she likely also wouldn¡¯t have time to be on Myspace. After noticing she had been on enough times over the past week to change her moods from ¡®excited¡¯ to ¡®bouncy¡¯ and to ¡®hopeful¡¯, I jumped back to my new way of positive thinking¡ªher moods aligned with the days after our first date. It seemed her silence was a test to see how I¡¯d react if she didn¡¯t call me back right away. Maybe her last boyfriend, or the other young guys she dated, got angry with her when she didn¡¯t return their phone calls? If this truly was a test, I didn¡¯t see it as her playing games. If her emotions were involved, she had the right to know what kind of man I was. She even uploaded a song to her profile titled ¡°Satellite¡± by the group, Guster. Since I didn¡¯t know the group or the song, I decided to take a listen to get an idea of what kind of music she liked. When I heard the lyrics ¡°Are you what I think you are?¡± followed by ¡°You¡¯re my satellite¡±, it seemed the song may have spoken about the hope she had for me¡ªwhy she¡¯s been a bit standoffish. After putting her heart out there and being hurt, the last thing she wanted to show a man were the cards she held. Am I what she thinks I am? As the song suggested? It seemed the longer I was fine with her reluctance in returning my calls promptly, the more it would prove to her I am what she thought I was.

    When another phone call went unreturned after two weeks passed, the positive Landyn Lastman, Lexi¡¯s satellite only in his own mind, crashed down to Earth. My negativity, that intuition that told me I was always right about the things I didn¡¯t want to be right about, resurfaced to overwhelm any positive thoughts. To hold onto good feelings for hope¡¯s sake would only postpone my disappointment. To ensure my instincts were not betraying me, I followed her daily on Myspace, even getting up in the middle of the night to do so. Stalking someone you¡¯re actually friends with on a website put an exclamation point on my continued bad luck with relationships. When a new male friend appeared on her friends list, a disc jockey named ConnectTheDotTec, I dreaded his possible role for the late return calls. Since he looked like a matted canine on his profile pic, he seemed more like a friend than a love interest. After noticing she responded to him in a timely manner within a comments window, my theory went to sleep with the fishes. Taking it a step further, I timed her posting of the Guster song at the same time she added him to her friends list, logic suggested who her true satellite really was. It wasn¡¯t until a couple of days later, when she posted lingerie pics of her during a Halloween party at the Playboy Mansion, was I finally convinced Lexi had no plans to meet me for a second date. There was no way I could compete with ConnectTheDotTec apparent disc jockey connections. It appeared I fell in the same trap again, but this time, subordinates at a career job would know of my ineptitude with women.

    It was time to face reality¡ªan unreturned phone call or a lack of communication by other means for weeks, even just to say hello, was never a good sign. I was only setting myself up for more late nights on Myspace if I didn¡¯t lay it all on the line. Holding onto Lexi would be like trying to hold onto air without exhaling. There was only one person to blame here for being so hopeful after only one date¡ªme. Without a doubt, she¡¯ll turn this on me¡ªI¡¯m crazy for being optimistic even after suggesting sitting on a couch together and telling me she looked forward to our next date. That she didn¡¯t know what gave me the impression she was interested even after she experienced an entire spectrum of emotions after a first date. She¡¯ll probably accuse me of being too open with her, but I didn¡¯t see the wrong in empathizing with someone¡¯s pain after they shared theirs with you. The truth was the right one would appreciate it, not criticize me for it. It killed me to have to follow-up with her, but this should be routine by now. Regardless of how deeply disappointing this was, being noble was my only option. I wanted to call, but she seemed more responsive to communication on Myspace. As I hammered out another anticlimactic email in my life, it brought me back to the many I wrote Denise that only disappeared into cyberspace. Here I was, the old Landyn Lastman, the great zero, reappearing through the written word once again.

    Hi Lexi,

    I just wanted to drop you an email. I hope you had a good weekend. Since I haven¡¯t heard from you, I¡¯ve decided it¡¯s probably best to take myself out of the running for the Lexi¡¯s heart sweepstakes. I¡¯m typically an optimistic person and I thought our date went really well, but I have to take your silence at face value. I totally understand.

    It wouldn¡¯t surprise me to learn that maybe guys date you for the wrong reasons and usually end up disappointing you. I just feel it¡¯s important for you to know that I was only interested in getting to know you for all the right reasons. I don¡¯t believe in dating for the sake of dating and I¡¯m not a seasoned dater. I believe the best relationships are first built off of friendships and that would¡¯ve been my approach. You¡¯re a pretty girl, Lexi, and I¡¯m sure you have your pick of guys but looks are just part of the equation with me. I care more about the inner beauty in you because that¡¯s what determines if a relationship will last or not. If I could never win your heart then it¡¯s not worth pursuing.

    Please know I was only interested in seeing you for the right reasons. If I didn¡¯t think you were a good person on the inside, I would¡¯ve walked away from the date just like you almost did when you thought I smoked. ?? My life is an open book if you¡¯re ever interested in reading it. I have nothing to hide. Sure, there are things I wish I had done differently but I think everyone does. I¡¯m confident anything Nikki told you about me, I could¡¯ve lived up to and probably even surpassed. But I also know it¡¯s hard to look at a guy who is thirty-seven, single with no kids and think nothing is wrong with him. I¡¯d be skeptical too. All I can do at this point in my life is hope someone is willing to give me a chance so I can prove to them I¡¯m for real. I may not be the best at first impressions, but over the long run, I feel strongly no one would be regretful. You¡¯re probably just into someone else and have other options and I totally respect that. That¡¯s something I would never want you to feel bad about. You¡¯re not rejecting me, you¡¯re only rejecting your perception of me, that¡¯s all. I believe things happen for a reason and more than anything, I¡¯d want you to be happy. That¡¯s number one, I wish you the best, always.

    One of the other reasons I emailed you is that I found out through my tax connection at work that you can claim up to $2,500 of student loan interest on your tax return each year. I think the form is easy to fill out. You should definitely take advantage of that.

    I think it¡¯s a blessing that you contacted me. I never thought I¡¯d ever get excited again to meet someone, but it¡¯s just good to know I can still feel that way. Anyway, I thought I¡¯d make it easy on you and delete myself from your friends list. If I¡¯m wrong about this, you have my phone number, but unfortunately, it seems I¡¯m always right about the things I never want to be right about. Haha

    Take care and good luck,

    Landyn

    Less than a half hour later, she responded.

    Hi Landyn,

    I really appreciate your heartfelt email. I read every single word and I thank you for your honesty. One thing that I should¡¯ve warned you about is my extremely slow rate of email and phone call return. It¡¯s a really bad habit I have that I¡¯m constantly working on...my first flaw of many.

    My other bad habit is I tend to go into hibernation when I feel overwhelmed. This just happens to be one of those times. I was introduced to you at the tail end of my last semi-relationship which I still don¡¯t have full closure on. When I met you, it threw me into a whirlwind of emotions that confused me even more. And then I started thinking about the age difference and the fact that I¡¯m planning to go back to school and I felt that you wouldn¡¯t want to wait around for that. By the way, when people say girls think way too far ahead, this is a prime example. I could write a book on it.

    Anyways, I needed time to think about things before I called you back and here is what I know. I feel it in the pit of my stomach that I¡¯m not ready for this. I¡¯m still sad about the last guy I dated and unfortunately my heart isn¡¯t open to anyone new right now. It really sucks because I did sense that you¡¯re a genuine person who is looking for the same thing in another. You¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve spoken to in a while that I felt was truly in it for finding a long lasting loving relationship. That¡¯s what I¡¯m looking for too, but I need to find closure first and also figure out how my going back to school will affect my life. I could possibly be moving to the east coast for 2 years and I don¡¯t want to be in the middle of a relationship if that happens.

    I had a really great time with you at the Good Morning Caf¨¦ and I thank you so much for the tax advice. ?? I would like to keep in touch so I¡¯d like to ask you not to take me off your friends list.

    Thanks for reading this long essay of mine.

    ~Lexi~

    Although her email seemed a bit contradictive and her words weren¡¯t something I wanted to read, she gave me dignity by writing me back an ¡®essay¡¯. I wanted to remain her friend on Myspace, but I liked her too much¡ªshe probably only wanted free tax advice anyway. I already knew how this story ends. After a few days of contemplation, I found the strength to delete her from my friends list, ending the Myspace obsession with her love life. I then took the tail light bulb and tried to make a shot into my trashcan, but I missed¡ªthe sound of the bulb smashing into pieces on the kitchen tile resonating in my ears.

 CHAPTER 20 ~ A WAR OF INDIFFERENCE

    ¡°Where¡¯ve you been?¡± asked Nikki, wide-eyed. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in a couple of months!¡±

    ¡°Out on the road managing jobs.¡± I explained, hoping to avoid further inquiries. ¡°It¡¯s the summer¡ªeveryone¡¯s on vacation it seems.¡±

    Then she hit me with it.

    ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on with you and Lexi?¡± She asked, hope in her voice.

    ¡°You mean Lexi Luthor?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Who¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just kiddin¡¯.¡± I recovered, realizing Nikki wasn¡¯t much of a Superman aficionado. ¡°I¡¯ll just say it didn¡¯t go as well as hoped¡ªshe still wasn¡¯t over her ex.¡±

    ¡°Really? He¡¯s a jerk, Mr. Lastman.¡± She declared. ¡°You need to call her again.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­yeah¡­I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡± I replied, shaking my head knowing all too well how that kind of romance only works out in books and movies.

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°She needs some time to figure things out without my interference.¡± I reasoned, hiding behind the knowledge that once a woman¡¯s mind was made up about me, it was made up. ¡°If she changes her mind, she knows where she can find me.¡±

    ¡°Well, it would be her loss.¡±

    ¡°Even though it didn¡¯t work out the way I hoped, thank you for introducing her to me.¡± I said. ¡°I never thanked you for that. It felt good to take a chance again.¡±

    ¡°Oh please. Thank you for all your patience and understanding. I would¡¯ve been fired or given up and quit without your help and belief in me.¡±

    ¡°All the time and anytime.¡± I smiled. ¡°This firm made an investment in you and it¡¯s my job to make sure we get out money¡¯s worth.¡±

    Nikki howled and then smiled before leaving my office. There was no denying I still reeled over what happened with Lexi. I really liked her and almost took Nikki¡¯s advice, but her email more than announced her mind was made up about me. She stated at the beginning of her email that she didn¡¯t think I wanted to wait for her if she went to school on the east coast. She then later stated that she didn¡¯t want to be in the middle of a relationship if she went back to school. She was clearly into either the disc jockey or her ex, and maybe even both. It was really none of my business to care¡ªI was not on her radar anyway. Unless she was in her forties and more self-aware, I couldn¡¯t compete with someone who could get her into venues like the Playboy Mansion. The only mansion I could get her into was the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, and with their price of admission these days, that might be a stretch. Although she could easily pose on the cover of Playboy if she chose to, it would officially disqualify her of being my type of girl. In fact, her just visiting that manor made me realize she wasn¡¯t my type at all.

    They say over time, eventually, your thoughts become your actions, and in the end, it is those actions that define you as a person. After Lexi, I was at a real loss in my personal life. Although I felt they were mostly out for themselves, I wasn¡¯t angry with women, but just livid at love. In my mind, women were the face it wore in a loveless world. Reaching a jagged crossroad in my life, I now had to go backwards to move forward¡ªteaming up my bitterness with despair to form a militia against love, its many faces, and all it stood for. The time came to make my unhappiness with love¡¯s absence known¡ªby accepting being a gentleman was not what a woman in a loveless world wanted. Chivalry was not dead, it was extinct¡ªsuccumbing to the realization that no matter what I was told, shown or read, all that led me to believe in love¡¯s magic, was untrue. Women never yearned for men who cared about their feelings. They only desired those who gave them the power to be admired by others. I¡¯ve heard complaints about all the jerks; from Karyn¡¯s abusive boyfriend to Denise¡¯s cheating friend turned lover to Nikki¡¯s revealing of Lexi¡¯s ex who was not good to her. Yet, in each instance, it was the douchebags who wound up having what I¡¯ve always wanted. It was simply time for me to join the rank and file.

    At times, you have to be willing to lose a battle to win the war. After losing my fair share of battles, the time arrived for a major offensive¡ªan ambush into hostile territory. Both an army and general in this army of one, my boots weren¡¯t ready to be put on the ground just yet. Like the strategy employed by the United States against Iraq, my offensive would be launched stealthily from the air; incognito. Operation Social Experiment first began with renewing my subscription with TheOne.com for three months. Upon signing back on for the first time since my date with Carrie months ago, I noticed her profile was still active, bringing a COL from me¡ªa chuckle out loud. Although my profile was inactive for nine months, people could still view my profile. In those nine months of inactive status, I was curious to see how many ¡°cheers¡± I had from people who liked my picture or profile. After receiving only one cheer, from a woman who appeared transgender, I had to find a way to draw the enemy out of their foxhole¡ªwith no collateral damage done to my fragile sense of self-worth. Needing to bait the trap, I raised my income level from fifty thousand dollars a year to over one hundred thousand dollars. That one change alone, brought my profile thirty-four cheers and thirty emails in a span of just two days. Disgusted, I then lowered my income level to twenty thousand dollars a year, changed my profile name from LLastman to LastDance and wrote a new section to my personal profile. One that was more indicative of my current state of mind.

    <u>About me and what I''m looking for:</u>

    Hi there. Thanks for reading my profile. When I signed up with TheOne.com it was in hope of changing my perception of how the world works and to give someone a chance. Quite honestly, I¡¯m just waiting for my subscription to run out. I¡¯ve come to the conclusion the women I perceive to be ¡°good catches¡± are simply not so I¡¯ve decided to embrace this reality and show all my cards. I¡¯d much rather be single than date someone who only cares about what I can give and what they can take and that¡¯s roughly 75% of you. I want to thank those who glanced at my height and income level then decided I wouldn¡¯t make a good partner. Seriously, I thank you for passing up on me because I need to meet someone with a head on their shoulders and who has common sense. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯ve read every book on the shelf, traveled the world five times and plastered masters and doctorate degrees on your wall. You could be the world¡¯s most renown erudite but it¡¯s apparent you still have a lot to learn about life. I do however wish you the best of luck in your searches, even though I think you¡¯ll need this later on down the road.

    Oddly enough, my words brought me instant feedback.

    From: CuteStuff112:

    To: LastDance:

    You have the most negative, bitter ad I¡¯ve ever read. You may want to get off TheOne before your year is up. You¡¯re gonna get a lot of hate mail. No doubt. Best wishes, I mean that, you really do need it.

    From: TheOne4U:

    To: LastDance:

    I think you need to make some different choices. Now in saying all this I am also talking about myself. I realize that I have often said, men are all looking for Barbie dolls, fake plastic woman to hang on their arm. Again, I think that was my protection from being hurt. Anyway, again, best wishes.

    After reading these emails written by the twenty five percent of decent women out there, it seemed my bitter profile was working like rotten cheese in a mousetrap. It was time now to enter into the second phase of my war¡ªsurgical strikes from the air on those I deemed to be frauds. The ones most responsible for sowing mistrust in a loveless society. While stealthily perusing through many profiles, I came upon the unsuspecting TheSassyFlower, a profile wrought of contradiction. Unable to help myself, I composed an email to her.

    From: LastDance:

    To: TheSassyFlower:

    Hi there,

    I¡¯ve noticed a contradiction in your profile. You wrote the following:

    ¡°If you¡¯re a guy who is way hung up on looks then you probably don¡¯t have the character or personality to interest me. Charm is deceptive, beauty is fleeting and attraction is vital but growing old one day is what we do and too many men are led by just our looks. It¡¯s a scary place to base a relationship from. Right now, I know I¡¯m really hot but you better like me when I¡¯m 60!¡±

    All your photos are nice but they appear to be professionally done. I think you have to believe in what you state in your profile and go with some natural photos. The touched-up photos tell men looks carry a lot of weight with you. You can¡¯t call the guys out on here when looks matter to you a lot as well.

    A few minutes passed before she responded.

    From: TheSassyFlower:

    To: LastDance:

    DAHHHHH I¡¯m an actress! Those are my headshots!!! The pics I have of just myself are those! I don¡¯t like to post pics of other people who don¡¯t want to be in them. I did not get ¡°professional¡± photos done for this website OMG! I live in Hollywood and those are actor shots! I would hope being from CA you would have had a clue that THAT is what a headshot IS! And quite frankly, no one invited your opinion. DAH! I don¡¯t blame people for wanting to be attracted to someone. That wasn¡¯t the point jackass! What I meant was how obsessed men are with beauty and how dangerous that can be in seeking a mate. The professional pics tell people, ¡°oh, she¡¯s an actor and those are just her headshots¡± and not ¡°she must be shallow b/c she is so hot¡±. Just because I take nice pics and I¡¯m an actor doesn¡¯t mean looks matter to me. I said ¡°attraction¡±.

    Please don¡¯t email me your opinions. I am so no interested.

    Initially not intending to engage in hostile fire with the enemy, I was in a war and now had to return her crossfire.

    From: LastDance:

    To: TheSassyFlower:

    The last time anyone used the word ¡°Dah¡± around me was back in the 2<sup>nd</sup> grade. How old are you again?

    Are you an actor or an actress? I¡¯m confused. What movies have you done? ¡°TheSassyFlower meets the Dirty Sanchez¡±? It¡¯s not only time to change your pics but it might be time to choose another career. If you were realistically going anywhere don¡¯t you think you¡¯d be there by now? I suggest you get a real job and stop looking for a man to support your career as an extra.

    Dah! You wrote it, not me. You need to revisit your profile. If men being attracted to just your looks because you¡¯re ¡°hot¡± bothers you so much, then lose the headshots and put up some real pics and not these airbrushed photos. You can always hide the faces of those who don¡¯t want to be on the site. Stop pretending you¡¯re not a photoshop expert. If you had a bad experience on here, it¡¯s probably because the guy you were supposed to meet was expecting someone super hot then you showed up.

    When TheSassyFlower never responded to my pointed reply, it bummed me out, leaving me to wonder if a majority of the online profiles were fake. Either created by the site to attract subscribers or to catfish a person genuinely looking to end their loneliness. In this instance, it seemed I conquered the enemy but without the spoils. For the meantime, I remained vigilant, searching for TheOne.com¡¯s Osama Bin Laden¡ªthe leader of those who turned love into a fairy tale. It wasn¡¯t until a few weeks later did I discover the dating profile who encompassed in one human being the reason for my war. A person who proclaimed to the world from her lofty pedestal her greatness, and how little we all were in comparison. Every hero had an enemy. Superman had Lex Luthor. Batman had The Joker. Landyn Lastman had the TootlesKitty.

    The most annoying thing about her profile, aside from the numerous phony pics, were the apologies she made for being unable to reply to all her fan email. Her profile begged the question; what would happen if one of those fans called her out? It was time to drop the A-bomb on the TootlesKitty.

    From: LastDance:

    To: TootlesKitty:

    Let me get this straight.

    You graduated with honors from UCLA.

    You make $150,000 plus a year.

    You¡¯re a very attractive woman.

    You live in Beverly Hills.

    You¡¯ve created your own success.

    I believed everything up until you said you did this on your own. The only thing you ever did on your own was either grow up in an affluent family, receive an inheritance or met a guy who was a pushover who bought their way into your heart.

    If you lived anywhere else in the United States except for Los Angeles, I would¡¯ve thought you were telling the truth. Generally, women that are as attractive as you, who live in L.A., spend way too much time with their legs in the air to ever care enough about being successful, let alone finding the time out of their busy schedule to create a profile on TheOne.com. They simply wouldn¡¯t have to.

    Good luck with your tomfoolery!

    Minutes after sending this email, it seemed the TootlesKitty could easily find the time to respond to hate mail while giving the men worth a response her silence.

    From: TootlesKitty:

    To: LastDance:

    Listen you disgusting peice of shit. You can believe anything you want but I¡¯ve never been so insulted in my life. I am going to report you to TheOne.com. I am on this because I am EVERYTHING I SAY I AM AND do not have TIME to fuck around with losers like you. HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ME! AND YOU ARE DEAD DEAD WRONG!! ITS ALMOST LAUGHABLE! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN SCREWED REAL BAD BY A GIRL BUT HOW DARE YOU TAKE IT OUT ON ME. THE FUNNY THING IS THAT I HAVE MADE MORE MONEY THAT MY PARENTS EVER DID, HAVE NEVER HAD A SUGAR DADDY, AND HAVE NEVER "HAD MY LEGS IN THE AIR" FOR ANY CLIENT AS YOU HAVE SO DISGUSTINGLY SAID. IN FACT, I AM THE REAL DEAL, AN OPRAH STORY, AND AM CURRENTLY FEATURED ON TONY ROBBINS INFOMERCIAL AS A SUCCESS STORY AND INTERVIED BY ANTHONY ROBBINS AND LEEZA GIBBONS HIMSELF. YOU CAN TURN ON THE TV AND WATCH IT YOURSELF! PART OF MY STORY IS THAT I DIDNT COME FROM AN INHERITANCE BUT IN FACT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL. SO HOW FUCKING DARE YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO HORRIBLE AND VICIOUS TO ME WHEN YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ME! I AM TOO SMART AND TALENTED TO HAVE TO LIE TO ANYONE! GO OFF MY LOOKS ALONE, I DONT HAVE TO LIE TO GET A MAN, PERIOD! IF YOU ARE THAT SIMPLE AND SHALLOW YOU MINDLESS JERK. I AM SINGLE BECAUSE I AM TOO DAMN GOOD AND SMARTER THAN 95% OF THE LOSER MEN OUT THERE LIKE YOU. I ALSO INTIMIDATE MOST MEN. YOU ARE THE LOWEST OF THE SCUM AND YOU SHOULD HANG YOUR FUCKING HEAD IN SHAME FOR WHAT YOU HAVE WRONGLY SAID TO ME YOU 5''8 PEICE OF SHIT. I WOULD TOWER OVER YOU IN MY BUSINESS SUIT AND SPIT ON YOUR ASS IF I EVER SAW YOU. ONLY SCUM LIKE YOU WITH NO INTIGRITY THINK THAT WAY. JUST BECAUSE I CHOSE TO UTILISE THEONE.COM AS AN OPTION DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING OTHER THAN THAT BEING MY PERSONAL CHOICE AND NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUNSINESS OR RIGHT TO JUDGE. NOT EVERYONE ON HERE IS A LOW LIKE NOBODY LIKE YOU! YOU MUST HAVE A MOTHER THAT ONLY KNEW HOW TO PUT HER LEGS UP TO GET PLACES, BUT I CERTAINLY NEVER HAVE! DO NOT EVER CONTACT ME AGAIN OR I WILL CONTACT THE ONE.COM AGAIN AND MY ATTORNEY FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND SEEK OTHER DAMAGES. I AM PRETTY WELL VERSED IN THIS AREA, AS A LOT OF SMALL MEN SUCH AS YOURSELF CANT HANDLE POWEFUL WOMEN LIKE ME AND THE FACT THAT THEY ACTUALLY LIVE THE ULTIMATE LIFE ON THEIR OWN AND KICK THEIR ASSES ALL OVER THE PLACE. YOU ARE A VERY SMALL MAN, LITERALLY! STAY AWAY FROM ME U RESENTFUL SICKO! I LAUGH IN YOUR FACE AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SO AMAZING TO KNOW JUST HOW WRONG YOU ARE WHICH IN TURN REMINDS ME OF JUST HOW AMAZING AND ACCOMPLISHED OF A PERSON I AM. JESUS, YOU MUST REALLY BE A SAD PERSON TO SEND AN EMAIL LIKE THAT TO SOMEONE YOU DONT EVEN KNOW AND JUST ATTACK ME LIKE THAT. TOO BAD FOR YOU, YOU PITIFUL LITTLE MAN.

    After receiving a heavy barrage of gunfire from an enraged TootlesKitty, there was no other option but to throw a grenade and yell fire in the hole. No hold barred; we were at war.

    From: LastDance:

    To: TootlesKitty:

    Dear Oprah Story,

    Since you¡¯re obviously the greatest human being to ever grace the planet, every sentence you wrote deserves its proper attention from me.

    Listen you disgusting peice of shit. (I believe you¡¯re referring to me here.)

    You can believe anything you want but I have never been so insulted in my life. (Well, there¡¯s a first for everything in life.)

    I am going to report you to TheOne.com. (Please do! I could use the refund.)

    I am on this because I am EVERYTHING I SAY I AM AND do not have TIME to fuck around with losers like you. (Just time enough to write them the next great American novel.)

    HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ME! AND YOU ARE DEAD DEAD WRONG!! ITS ALMOST LAUGHABLE! (Almost laughable? Am I the only one laughing here?)

    YOU MUST HAVE BEEN SCREWED REAL BAD BY A GIRL BUT HOW DARE YOU TAKE IT OUT ON ME. (If you used a humble approach, like most decent people do, I wouldn¡¯t have believed you were a phony.)

    THE FUNNY THING IS THAT I HAVE MADE MORE MONEY THAT MY PARENTS EVER DID. (I think the word is ¡°Than¡± my parents did but then again, I¡¯m not a UCLA Honors student like you.)

    HAVE NEVER HAD A SUGAR DADDY, AND HAVE NEVER "HAD MY LEGS IN THE AIR" FOR ANY CLIENT AS YOU HAVE SO DISGUSTINGLY SAID. (I didn¡¯t mention anything about having your legs in the air for a client but thanks for clarifying. I knew you¡¯ve had your legs in the air for someone.)

    I AM THE REAL DEAL, AN OPRAH STORY, AND AM CURRENTLY FEATURED ON TONY ROBBINS'' INFOMERCIAL AS A SUCCESS STORY AND INTERVIED BY ANTHONY ROBBINS AND LEEZA GIBBONS HIMSELF. (Did Leeza Gibbons have a sex change operation I wasn¡¯t aware of? I could¡¯ve sworn she was female last time I checked.)

    YOU CAN TURN ON THE TV AND WATCH IT YOURSELF! (I¡¯d love to do that, but I can¡¯t stay up past 3 a.m. to watch infomercials.)

    PART OF MY STORY IS THAT I DIDNT COME FROM AN INHERITANCE BUT IN FACT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL. (Do you find it ironic that you came from the depths of hell only to find yourself on the road leading back there?)

    SO HOW FUCKING DARE YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO HORRIBLE AND VICIOUS TO ME WHEN YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ME! (Reality is a horrible and vicious thing to phony people.)

    I AM TOO SMART AND TALENTED TO HAVE TO LIE TO ANYONE! (Sure, you are. Don¡¯t let yourself tell you anything different. You might join the planet earth if you did.)

    IF YOU ARE THAT SIMPLE AND SHALLOW YOU MINDLESS JERK. I AM SINGLE BECAUSE I AM TOO DAMN GOOD AND SMARTER THAN 95% OF THE LOSER MEN OUT THERE LIKE YOU. I ALSO INTIMIDATE MOST MEN. (It¡¯s shocking you¡¯re single, you seem like a great catch. For the record, psychopaths usually intimidate everyone. Just Ask Oprah.)

    YOU ARE THE LOWEST OF THE SCUM AND YOU SHOULD HANG YOUR FUCKING HEAD IN SHAME FOR WHAT YOU HAVE WRONGLY SAID TO ME YOU 5''8 PEICE OF SHIT. (What do you think, Tootles? Is it wrong for me to expect a UCLA Honors student to know how to spell the word ¡°piece¡±? I¡¯m more bothered by that than your opinions about me.)

    I WOULD TOWER OVER YOU IN MY BUSINESS SUIT AND SPIT ON YOUR ASS IF I EVER SAW YOU. (I knew you were accomplished but classy too? You¡¯re the entire package.)

    ONLY SCUM LIKE YOU WITH NO INTIGRITY THINK THAT WAY. (What I lack in integrity I make up for with honesty, UCLA Honors student.)

    JUST BECAUSE I CHOSE TO UTILISE THEONE.COM AS AN OPTION DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING OTHER THAN THAT BEING MY PERSONAL CHOICE AND NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUNSINESS OR RIGHT TO JUDGE. (Why would someone better than 95% of the men out there need a dating service?)

    NOT EVERYONE ON HERE IS A LOW LIKE NOBODY LIKE YOU! (Superb grammar from a UCLA honors student.)

    DO NOT EVER CONTACT ME AGAIN OR I WILL CONTACT THE ONE.COM AGAIN AND MY ATTORNEY FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND SEEK OTHER DAMAGES. (It¡¯s now safe to say this low like 5''8" peice of shit nobody has officially gotten under TootlesKitty fur.)

    YOU ARE A VERY SMALL MAN, LITERALLY! (Didn¡¯t you already cover this? Oh, that¡¯s right I forgot. I¡¯m the mindless shallow one.)

    I LAUGH IN YOUR FACE AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SO AMAZING TO KNOW JUST HOW WRONG YOU ARE WHICH IN TURN REMINDS ME OF JUST HOW AMAZING AND ACCOMPLISHED OF A PERSON I AM. (If I''m wrong, why bother taking time out of your busy schedule to write me a long ass email?)

    TOO BAD FOR YOU, YOU PITIFUL LITTLE MAN. (How will I ever recover?)

    You are quite the piece of work TootlesKitty. All jokes aside, when you find time to break away from your amazing accomplished life of lying to people on the internet about who you really are, please ask yourself this question; what man in his right mind would honestly date you? I hate to break it to you Tootlepants but you just spent an hour or so writing me back only to confirm what I believe. Although I think your being sexually harassed is wishful thinking on your part, please feel free to report me to TheOne.com. Save me some time and money from meeting psychos like yourself. How you¡¯re able to put a profile up without arousing any suspicion of legitimacy is beyond me.

    P.S. After you take off your power suit, please untie and release Tony Robbins. He¡¯s not a miracle worker.

    Love,

    The 5¡¯8¡± low like disgusting peice of shit.

    Based on my prior exchange with TheSassyFlower, there was no way TootlesKitty would even dare to return fire. Then again, in today¡¯s loveless society, attractive women usually gave their attention to the men who weren¡¯t worthy of it.

    From: TootlesKitty:

    To: LastDance:

    Ha! I love what a hippocrite you are you disgusting loser. Did you notice you wrote something even longer than mine? Ha! You, a stranger, attacks me and what the fuck do you expect me to do? You can call me psycho but I am tough as shit and know how to deal with the little man complex quite well and the only recourse uneducated men have is to call women like that "nuts". Ha! I love it! Your profile sucks. You suck! I know what I am, I could prove it all to you but would never want to release my identity to such a psyco that seeks out women who are better than him on the internet to attack and deny because he feels rejected because he knows he can never attain such a woman and it makes him feel even smaller. Thanks, I am now going to retreat to my amazing life because I, unlike you, am a happy person, if you didn¡¯t already get that by the pictures.... oh, woops, I must have fabricated the South of France in those shots... duhh. Fuck off you Loser! You are now BLOCKED! P.S. I love how you call yourself a "nice and respectful" person" haha. Whose the Liar now!?? "I don¡¯t drive a big car... hmmm do I sense the fact that your an unaccomplished loser of a man?" Yes! U CANT POSSIBLY IMAGINE THAT A WOMAN CAN DO IT JUST LIKE A MAN CAN WITHOUT FAMILY MONEY OR FUCKING HER WAY TO THE TOP... well let me tell you honey, ITS POSSIBLE! U JUST CANT ADMIT IT BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF COULDNT EVEN DO IT!! YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE BEEN BURNED BY WOMEN BADLY BEFORE AND I CAN SEE WHY. oh... and as far as my looong emails, since I think and type faster than your brain functions, it takes me all of about 20 seconds to punch out this stupid email to your worthless ass. You may think I have accomplished nothing, but that doesn¡¯t phase me since the rest of the universe thinks I am incredible. And my profile doesn¡¯t mention about the half of it...cant scare away everyone. Good Luck finding any woman who will care about your worthless ass! You have NOTHING GOIG FOR YOU! You are UGLY, UNSUCCESSFUL, AND UGLY INSIDE! I am the nicest person in the world but if you fuck with me, I will take you out! You can call that psycho, but I call that how I am able to rendevous at the top with the big boys and gain respect WITHOUT having to FUCK my WAY to the TOP. (HAVE A NICE LIFE! I know I will! :)

    From: LastDance:

    To: TootlesKitty:

    Dear UCLA Honors Student,

    This is the last time I¡¯m doing this for you Tootles.

    Ha! I love what a hippocrite you are you disgusting loser. (Hungry Hungry Hippocrite? UCLA needs to seriously reevaluate who gets in their Honors Program.)

    Ha! (Ahhhh! These ¡°ha¡¯s¡± are scaring the crap out of me! I feel like Clarise.)

    You, a stranger, attacks me and what the fuck do you expect me to do? (Ignore my email like you would when a good guy emails you?)

    You can call me psycho but I am tough as shit and know how to deal with the little man complex quite well and the only recourse uneducated men have is to call women like that "nuts". Ha! (Nuts, psycho¡­it¡¯s all relative, TootlesLecter.)

    I love it! Your profile sucks. You suck! (I have no comeback for this. This is your greatest accomplishment yet. I wish I had come up with this insult.)

    I know what I am, I could prove it all to you but (Just like you could sue me for damages done to your ego as well?) would never want to release my identity to such a psyco that seeks out women that are better than him on the internet to attack and deny because he feels rejected because he knows he can never attain such a woman and it makes him feel even smaller. (I¡¯ve now come to realize I could never attain a woman, of such a high psychotic caliber as the TootlesKitty. Where do I go from here?)

    Thanks, I am now going to retreat to my amazing life because I, unlike you, am a happy person, if you didn¡¯t already get that by the pictures (What I got from the pictures is a fraud, that''s why I emailed you. Thanks for confirming.)

    Oh, woops, I must have fabricated the South of France in those shots... duhh. (One would think a woman who graduated with Honors from a fine institution like UCLA would know what superimposing is. Then again, most students who graduate with honors at least know how to spell.)

    Fuck off you Loser! You are now BLOCKED! (Blocked? WTF? Where did I go wrong? What happened to your sexual harassment lawsuit? Report me to TheOne.com! I need a refund!)

    P.S. I love how you call yourself a "nice and respectful" person" haha. (For the record, respect is earned not handed out to phonies like yourself.)

    Whose the Liar now!?? "I don¡¯t drive a big car... hmmm do I sense the fact that your an unaccomplished loser of a man?" (First, it¡¯s ¡°who¡¯s¡±. Second it¡¯s ¡°you¡¯re¡± and third yes, I¡¯m a loser. You¡¯ve found me out¡­I drive a small Mercedes.)

    U CANT POSSIBLY IMAGINE THAT A WOMAN CAN DO IT JUST LIKE A MAN CAN WITHOUT FAMILY MONEY OR FUCKING HER WAY TO THE TOP... well let me tell you honey, ITS POSSIBLE! (I believe it¡¯s possible¡­just not by you.)

    U JUST CANT ADMIT IT BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF COULDNT EVEN DO IT!! (If this is what it would turn me into then no thank you. I''d rather stay a loser who drives a small Mercedes.)

    oh... and as far as my looong emails, since I think and type faster than your brain functions, it takes me all of about 20 seconds to punch out this stupid email to your worthless ass. (With all these typing errors you might want to retake a typing class. I could type a more readable email if I skidded my ass across the keyboard.)

    You may think I have accomplished nothing, but that doesn¡¯t phase me since the rest of the universe thinks I am incredible. (You¡¯re definitely out there.)

    Good Luck finding any woman who will care about your worthless ass! You have NLTHING GOIG FOR YOU! You are UGLY, UNSUCCESSFUL, AND UGL INSIDE! (Hey! Watch it now! No need to get nasty!)

    I am the nicest person in the world but if you fuck with me, I will take you out! (It has been a real treat meeting someone who makes Michael Myers appear misunderstood.)

    You can call that psycho, but I call that how I am able to rendevous at the top with the big boys and gain respect WITHOUT having to FUCK my WAY to the TOP. HAVE A NICE LIFE! I know I will! :) (Only a bonafide psycho would end that email with a smiley face. Let me guess you¡¯re having an old friend for dinner tonight.)

    True to her word, the TootlesKitty immediately blocked me after she received this email, ending our shootout at TheOne.com corral. A week later, likely after meeting with her psychic advisor, she had a change of heart and unblocked me. After making several failed attempts to reestablish contact with the universe¡¯s greatest treasure, it sadly appeared she did retreat back to her amazing life.

    Although it helped letting off some steam and providing me with great entertainment, my air bombardments were a short-lived phase in my war against love¡ªthere was no way to top my exchange with the TootlesKitty. There was also no time with my busy schedule to cycle through hundreds of dating profiles either. TootlesKitty was only great white whale out there anyway. Since my personal and professional lives were so out of whack, something that made absolutely no sense to anyone, but me, offered the best way to balance my life out. While attempting to eliminate my heart from every interaction with the opposite sex, there was no away around the reason for my war; an anger with myself over letting my guard down with Lexi¡ªa barrier I fortified for over six years. Regardless of her contradictions, Lexi showed respect for my feelings by writing me an email that couldn¡¯t have been easy for her to write. One of the reasons for reaching out to her was to make it easier on her and mercifully she took it. As much appreciated her response was, though, it greatly disappointed me. After Karyn and Denise, I preferred a woman¡¯s brutal honesty over being left to piece together how they truly feel. I would insist that the next woman, if there ever was one, rip the heart from my chest and stomp on it. We all deserve closure; to be given the chance to save years from our lives without obsessing over what we could¡¯ve done differently.

    Ending my surprise air assaults, this one-man regiment entered his next stage; the ground phase. It was time to put my boots on the rugged terrain. No matter how hard I tried, being disrespectful to women wasn¡¯t in me. Making a decision not to care for them or show any interest was a skill to be attained only in order to survive. My war was only an indifference towards what they perceived love to be, and not a hatred towards them. Of course, a phony like TootlesKitty deserved a wake-up call, but my words were purely meant to provide her with another angle to consider. Even someone like her deserved happiness¡ªthis was a difficult world to navigate in for all of us. My personal war on love was nothing more than an awareness and acceptance of our loveless society. All those years believing in one girl, a soulmate made only for me, only proved how unaware I was about how love worked¡ªonly romanticizing through books and movies but never through the lenses of reality. Staring down the barrel of the loaded chamber of heartbreak brought me to a hard truth¡ªshe wasn¡¯t coming and was further away than she had ever been. My greatest weakness was the enormous weight I gave to intimacy. How imagining making love, and or experiencing it, made me easily hand my heart over. If I could become numb to sex, then I¡¯d be strong enough to gain control in any relationship. If a war were to be waged against love, I needed to sow these oats of mine. Whether they were wild or just Quaker, I wasn¡¯t quite sure.

    Taking a week off from work, my boots hit the hot desert and its surrounding Las Vegas lights for a weekend getaway. Booking a room at the MGM Grand for Friday and Saturday nights, I¡¯d implement my new approach at the bars and clubs. After settling into my hotel room, I stuffed five hundred dollars into my pocket and headed downstairs to the casino. Being on a low-end budget, pretty much turned me into a full-time Wheel of Fortune slots player. Occasionally, I¡¯d play the tables, but never found them to be fruitful on my budget. The Wheel of Fortune slots gave me two ways of winning big; a shot at spinning the wheel or hitting the two million dollars progressive.

    My technique when playing slots, if you called it that, was to pay the maximum three dollars on every spin. For example, getting a Wheel of Fortune spin produced a chance to win between twenty-five and a thousand dollars, but you needed to play the maximum three bucks to be able to spin. My average win on a spin was a hundred dollars, and whenever that happened, I then moved to the five-dollar minimum Wheel of Fortune slot machine in the high roller area. This strategy paid off nicely at times, but also made for a depressing trip back home when it backfired, as it often did. On this particular trip, however, on the first three-dollar maximum bet I fed into the machine, a spin yielded me a thousand dollars. I then moved immediately to the red carpeted empty high rollers room, losing two-hundred of my thousand-dollar winnings. Being up eight hundred dollars, I cut my losses and made my way one of the MGM¡¯s bars to have a drink.

    Upon sitting, a video blackjack game tempted me. After sliding a hundred-dollar bill into its blinking slot, a bartender asked if I wanted anything to drink. Minutes later, after accidentally making a let it ride bet, I was down another hundred dollars before my Crown on the rocks came. After my second double Crown on the rocks and winning half my money back on video Blackjack, I scanned the bar area. By this time, it was packed with scantily clad women and sweaty males in cheap sport coats. Most of the men were working their lines but they could¡¯ve been flirting with prostitutes for all I knew. Bearing witness to the loveless society forming around me, I dwelled on my failures with women as my empty stomach buzz kicked in. Realizing I needed to be as free-wheeling and removed from caring as much as these guys were only disgusted me. Unable to stomach watching people try to be anyone but themselves only to impress someone they were unlikely to ever see again, I fled the bar. As the smooth whiskey hit me further, I marched outside to flag down a taxi. A minute later, I slid into the back of a cab and was greeted by a burly thickly bearded driver of Middle Eastern descent.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°How¡¯s your night, Eh?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Night is goin¡¯ well, my man!¡± I replied happily, morphing into what the Whiskey dictated. ¡°But it can get better if you know what I¡¯m sayin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Know what you¡¯re sayin, Eh? I know what you¡¯re sayin¡¯.¡± He acknowledged, pulling into traffic. ¡°You need hooker!¡±

    ¡°Oh! No! Too much disease out there, ya know!¡± I declared. ¡°Just get me the best strip bar.¡±

    ¡®Are you sure? No hooker?¡± He asked incredulously. ¡°Very hot women¡­I know these. No?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good!¡± Shaking my head and patting him on the shoulder¡ªwondering if I looked that hard up to him. ¡°But thanks!¡±

    ¡°You are sure?¡± He inquired again, pulling out several business cards then handing them to me. ¡°You like big boom booms, eh?¡±

    ¡°Hey! Who doesn¡¯t like big boom booms?¡± Slurring my words while perusing through the business cards I couldn¡¯t see in the dark then handing them back to him. ¡°I¡¯m fine. No hookers for me¡ªjust a good strip joint.¡±

    ¡°I find you good strip joint. Just down the street.¡± He assured, taking back the cards then stuffing them into his jacket. ¡°Here¡¯s a discount card, eh? Fifteen dollars off cover charge.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I said, seizing the card from him like a starving refugee. ¡°Appreciate that!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll like these girls. Hot. Will even give you jerky jerky for the right price, eh.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Who couldn¡¯t use a jerky jerky?¡± I replied, feeling zero pain.

    When we arrived at our destination, The Velvet Panther, he dropped me off at the entrance. I then tipped him a gracious amount that in my sobriety I¡¯d be too embarrassed to defend. I then grabbed my wrist and brought it to my face, noticing it was ten p.m. After paying the twenty-dollar cover, even with the discount card, I walked inside the hazy dim lit club. The place was enormous, with at least four bars located in each corner of the room. The place may have been dark and smoky but the women were easy to see, all of them a sight to behold. A few pranced by me in bikinis or lingerie, each either smiling or touching my chest as they did. Walking further through the purple and pink haze, I tried to find a place to sit¡ªfinding it hard to believe that even with no line outside, the place was already packed.

    Most people will say something is wrong with both a woman who strips and a man who pays them, but there was honesty in here. The world had turned on us. After what I¡¯ve experienced in my life with women, I appreciated the honesty in the transactional nature of a strip club. There were no games and no emotional letdowns. An unwritten rule existed¡ªwomen were here to make money and men were here for instant gratification. Our loveless society made the strip club business a necessity. Marriages even seemed to be transactional these days¡ªman provides for the woman and her children in exchange for sex. The woman can even take half of the man¡¯s hard-earned money in the end, something he likely never saw coming. Falling in love was dangerous and threatened lives as much an STD did. The women at this club were attractive in each their own way¡ªa low sense of self couldn¡¯t have been an issue. If you ever asked a stripper why they stripped, not one would deny it wasn¡¯t for the green paper. I connected with them because of my past experiences with love, knowing immediately where I stood with them. They gave me no false hopes, and other than their aliases, they were honest. In essence telling me ¡°I¡¯m with you only because you¡¯re paying me to.¡± That¡¯s integrity I couldn¡¯t find with supposedly the good decent women out there. More proof of how loveless our world had truly become.

    After finding an open chair a few feet from the main stage, a waitress approached me who could¡¯ve stripped if she wanted to. Staying with the same drink I¡¯ve had all night; I ordered another Crown on the rocks. Checking her out as she walked away, I felt a sudden chill of adrenaline run through me, causing my body to shake in anticipation. There were five different stages with several women sharing them with each other. A guy sitting to my right was getting a lap dance from a stripper with a very nice ass. When the stripper caught me sneaking a peek, she grabbed my hand, placing it on her smooth bottom. She left it there for about five seconds, before pushing it away with a smile. I smiled back but noticed the guy giving me a dirty look. Not wanting to cause any trouble, I looked away to focus on other areas. A few minutes later, the waitress returned with my drink, and after paying her, I quickly drank it trying to hold onto the buzz I had. When I put my glass down, I didn¡¯t have time to wipe my lip before an incredible looking brunette with fawn like brown eyes fell into my lap. Wearing a white two-piece bikini that accentuated her light brown skin tone, she kissed me on the cheek then whispered in my ear.

    ¡°How¡¯s your night goin¡¯?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s goin¡¯ great now!¡± I played along. ¡°How¡¯s your night goin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Mmmm¡­goin really good.¡± She teased, moving her hands along my chest. ¡°Do you work out?¡±

    ¡°When I can.¡±

    Although it cost me money, it was nice to receive a compliment. After losing out on Lexi, I¡¯d take anything at this point. Her hands then moved from my chest to the back of my neck. When she started to massage me, my eyes closed¡ªher soft hands felt really good.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, honey?¡±

    ¡°Landyn.¡± I slurred. ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°Delicious.¡± She moaned into my ear.

    ¡°Oh, I bet you are.¡± I flirted.

    ¡°Would you like to spend some time with me?¡± She whispered into my ear. ¡°I¡¯m so turned on right now.¡±

    Hating to break the mood, I smiled before killing it.

    ¡°It¡¯s my first time here. I¡¯m not sure how this works.¡±

    ¡°Mmmm¡­well, baby we can stay here and I can give you a lap dance for twenty-five dollars or we can go into the lap dance booths.¡±

    ¡°How much are those?¡±

    ¡°Those are forty dollars each and last for just one song¡­¡± she explained, kissing me on the neck. ¡°But we can also go in the hundred-dollar room for three songs.¡±

    ¡°Those are my options?¡±

    ¡°No, Honey. There¡¯s a two hundred dollar for a half hour where we can do more.¡± She explained. ¡°Then there¡¯s the four-hundred-dollar room where anything goes for an hour.¡±

    ¡°Anything goes?¡±

    ¡°Anything¡­¡± She moaned again, moving her tongue around her shiny red lips. ¡°Goes.¡±

    With her seductive green eyes peering into mine, the four-hundred-dollar room called out to me. Delicious looked everything her name suggested, her breasts begging to be both seen and touched. The ¡°anything goes¡± room with her aroused me just thinking about it, but being in the middle of my first real strip club experience made me cautious. I went to a strip club back when I turned eighteen but it was a hands-off place and thought all strip clubs had the same policy. Left with several options to choose from, I faced a tough decision. After what just happened with the guy next to me, the twenty-five-dollar option was eliminated immediately. The hundred-dollar room seemed cool, but what if they played three short songs? There also seemed to be a lack of privacy since it appeared to be closely monitored by their crew. The ¡°anything goes¡¯ room seemed to be the most enticing and exciting.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try the two-hundred-dollar room.¡± I told her.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna love it.¡± She declared, standing up from my lap then grabbing my hand.

    She navigated us, with my hand in hers, through the hazy club. Seconds later, we were at the two-hundred-dollar den¡¯s entry, greeted by a muscular bald black security guard. After giving him her name, he turned to pull up a red velvet rope then motioned us to come through. Once inside, she took my hand again, leading me past several full booths, each obscured its own curtain. Walking into the private area, I sat in a cool black leather chair while she turned to pull across the curtain for privacy. The thumping of the bass bouncing off the walls of the room muffled some of the erotic sounds coming from the rooms on both sides of us. After closing the curtain, Delicious turned around to face me, becoming even more so by allowing her bra to fall to the floor. Bringing her breasts to a longing tongue, she began licking each nipple. They were a perfect pair I badly wanted to touch, but even in my drunken state, my conscience ruled over me. Abruptly, and much to my surprise, she leaned into me and placed my hands where I wanted them to be.

    ¡°You can touch me.¡± She whispered, pulling herself away to remove her white bikini bottoms.

    Noticing no tan lines, there was nothing left to slow down my arousal as she sat down on my lap to face me. She then started to grind and moan uncontrived enough for me to trust in her pleasure. After five minutes of deep grinding and heightened moaning, she breathlessly began to speak just about the time I was about to burst.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be needing this, baby.¡± She stated erotically, tugging off my belt and throwing it to the floor.

    When her fingers found the buttons on my button fly jeans, they began to dislodge one by one. She then reached in with a cool soft hand to grab and gently pull on my mind. At this point, even if I wanted to stop her, I still wouldn¡¯t be able to¡ªand what business did I have stopping her anyway? Delicious was a true professional, knowing the end game of our encounter more than I did. As her steady hand and pleasurable moans turned me on even more, I never wanted this to end, but I also knew it would, sooner rather than later. Losing track of time, but knowing its end neared, she breathed again into my ear.

    ¡°Touch me, baby.¡± She said, bring my hand down to her wet vagina. ¡°I want us to finish together.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± I barely replied, nearing my climax point.

    ¡°I want you to cum with me.¡± She breathed into my ear.

    At this point, I really had no choice in the matter anymore. Even if I objected, I would¡¯ve obliged. She gave me her all, and seemed into it as much, if not more than I was¡­or it¡¯s at least what I wanted to believe. With two minutes left on the clock, far from a phot finish, she crossed the finish line four times, a goal I was unable to reach. In the end, I had no complaints¡ªit was the best two hundred dollars I had spent in a long time. When our time expired, I couldn¡¯t help but feel sad, even enamored with her. My libido was unwilling to accept it was over between us as she put her bikini back on.

    ¡°What time do you get off?¡± I asked.

    ¡°In another two hours. Why?¡±

    ¡°Would you like to get a bite to eat when you get off? Maybe do some gambling?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯d be nice to hang out with someone while I¡¯m here. I¡¯ll pay you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to do that.¡±

    ¡°Great! I¡¯ll hang out and just come find me when you¡¯re off.¡± I smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll be out there somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do that!¡± She exclaimed, clapping with a smile then giving me a long tight hug.

    I thanked her again then tipped her a hundred dollars for the dance, so technically it was a three-hundred-dollar room. Feeling satisfied with Delicious, I went back out among the general population, finding an open seat away from the stage. At The Velvet Panther, there was no such thing as ¡®one and done¡¯. A strange thing happened during my two-hour layover¡ªI found myself back in the two-hundred-dollar room three more times with three different dancers. Each one that crashed into my lap seemed to be more attractive than the last¡ªI didn¡¯t have the power to say no. When Delicious found me at the end of her shift, I confessed to spending our dinner and gambling money to further my libido. Gracious but seemingly disappointed, she walked away, saying goodbye to me forever. I guess we had the two-hundred-dollar room to remember each other by, but I knew only one of us would remember it. I truly hoped to spend some time with her, but I spent all my winnings in a span of only three hours.

    After six more hours passed and being demoted from the two-hundred-dollar room to twenty-five-dollar sofa dances, my night neared its uneventful end. Before leaving the club at five in the morning, seven hours after my arrival, a dancer stopped me on my way out¡ªto inform me that I was here when her first shift ended. After making it clear how hard up I was,

    she inspired me to make a thousand-dollar cash advance on my credit card. Since I left the money, I brought to Vegas in the hotel room, keeping this party going was my only objective.

    When I had the cash in hand, I tracked her down for another two-hundred-dollar room tryst. She tried to push the ¡°anything goes¡± room, but saving two hundred dollars to release all that built up for seven hours was my priority. A half hour later, however, I found myself in another taxi cab, at a quarter to six in the morning. Nursing a bit of a headache and unable to finish what I started, this cab ride was a silent one compared to my earlier one full of hope¡ªa microcosm of my love life for thirty-seven years. As the cab buckled as it turned off the Vegas strip, a thought entered my mind¡ªa way to turn this around I never imagined of ever trying. I then flashbacked to a conversation with Mitch over a year ago at Sonomas.

    ¡°Dude¡­¡± He said with wild eyes. ¡°Ya gotta get a massage.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s funny you mention that. I could really use one.¡± Replying, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°I¡¯m always tense and my back¡­¡±

    ¡°I wanna smack you!¡± He said raising his hand in the air. ¡°Not a real massage¡­a massage massage. You know¡­they give you a happy endin¡¯ when its done.¡±

    ¡°A happy ending?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a happy endin¡¯¡­when they massage your Penis Colossus at the end.¡± He elaborated. ¡°Or, in your case, your Penis Minimus.¡±

    ¡°How does that happen?¡± Shaking my head in disbelief. ¡°That sounds too awkward to me.¡±

    ¡°Not awkward at all, dude.¡± He stated, shaking his head. ¡°At the end of the massage, all ya do is tell em¡¯ you want a happy endin¡¯ and they give it to ya.¡±

    ¡°You just ask them for it?¡± I laughed imagining the scene. ¡°Oh, by the way, can I get a happy ending?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, man!¡± He confirmed, wide eyed. ¡°Or better yet just point down there. They probably don¡¯t speak English too good if at all.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fucked up, man.¡±

    ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°These women are poor and don¡¯t want to do that kind of stuff.¡± I replied. ¡°I couldn¡¯t take advantage of them like that.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, you¡¯re helping them out! They gotta eat, right? How are they gonna send money back to their parents?¡±

    ¡°Then somebody like yourself can help them then. I¡¯ll never step foot inside one of those places.¡± I stated, taking a drink of my beer.

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m not a loser.¡±

    ¡°And I am?¡±

    ¡°Hey, you said that, not me.¡± I smiled.

    Nearly a year after that conversation took place, at approximately six fifteen a.m. in Las Vegas, Nevada, this self-proclaimed ¡°non-loser¡± laid face down on a white towel covered massage table. Officially choking on my own words, a small towel covered my buttocks as the smell of incense filled a room the size of a walk-in closet. Stricken by the sound of oriental instrumental version of ¡°My Heart Will Go On¡±, my reluctant and excited heart raced not knowing what to expect. The Asian masseuse who escorted me inside was older judging by the wrinkles on her elbows, but sexy with a petite frame and a pretty face. When she walked into the room after paying sixty dollars for an hour massage, my body began to shake with anticipation.

    ¡°First time?¡± She asked as her fingers moved across my back.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I confessed, instantly aroused by the softness of her touch.

    ¡°You not here before?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been here before.¡± I confirmed, shaking my head in case she didn¡¯t understand.

    She then lifted the towel off my butt and laid it gently back down so that it covered more of my back.

    ¡°You have nice body.¡± She whispered, touching my arms. ¡°Nice muscles. Strong.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I replied, not knowing how else to respond.

    After making several more remarks about my body, it seemed this massage held much promise. How it would all come about? I had no clue. Mitch said the happy ending usually came at the end of the massage after they ask you to turn over. He then tells them what he wants by grabbing their breasts or whatever else he can get his hands on which didn¡¯t surprise me he¡¯d basically commit rape before taking his socks off. Lying there in silent contemplation of what my approach will be, I had no idee how this all would shake out when she asked me to turn over. It felt, though, a happy ending was definitely in my near future. When she finished massaging my calves, which also felt really good, she ran her hands upwards to massage my buttocks. As she did, her finger oddly brushed against my glory hole. Whenever it did, I jumped, while killing my arousal. After thirty seconds of ¡°butt play¡±, she whispered in my ear.

    ¡°I be right back with hot towel.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    She then left the room, returning a minute later, waving a steaming hot towel above my head. Applying it to my back, she wiped me down from neck to heel, as my strong soldier fell limp. When she finished, she leaned into my left ear again.

    ¡°Please turn over¡± She said, reaching below the table for a pillow she placed down for my head.

    After these magical words were spoken, words I waited fifty minutes to hear, I turned over with great anticipation¡ªcovering my member with the same towel used to cover my buttocks. A pitched tent began to erect itself as her hands found my chest. She then moved behind the table and began to massage my head. As she massaged my scalp, I pictured myself leaving the parlor looking capable of joining a pride of lions. After a five minute scalp massage, the clock seemed to be winding down, leaving me to worry about coming through at the last second. Michael Jordan could do great things holding a basketball with just seconds on the clock. The entire night had only proven Landyn Lastman was prone to coming up short even with a ton of time left on the clock. When she suddenly broke the silence, a sigh of relief broke upon me knowing I had at least five minutes left.

    ¡°All done.¡± She said. ¡°I get you cup of water.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­thanks.¡± I replied both in disbelief and disappointed as she exited the room.

    With my pitched tent now deflated, I reluctantly removed myself from the table and begrudgingly began to put on my clothes¡ªpondering what I did wrong. She got me all worked up¡­for a cup of water? I was all ready to make it pour in here and all I ended up with was a contained water sample? Adding insult to injury, when she returned to the room with my parting prize, she spoke one single word in English with perfect clarity and precision.

    ¡°Tip?¡±

    Not realizing tips were standard protocol for doing nothing extra for a massage I already paid for, it would¡¯ve been a crime not to tip her anything all because I felt unfulfilled¡ªfor all the wrong reasons. After handing her a twenty-dollar bill and receiving a courtesy door opening upon exiting, I left my first massage parlor experience mirroring my past relationships¡ªfeeling rejected. There was no joy in Massageville, for the mighty Landyn Lastman had struck out. Distraught by my lack of closing the deal, I officially hit rock bottom reaching out to Mitch at seven in the morning. I had to know if this ever happened to him. I knew he was probably returning home from work at the strip club he DJ¡¯d at.

    ¡°What did I do wrong?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What did you do wrong? It¡¯s more like what did you do right?¡± He scolded. ¡°If I could reach into the phone, I¡¯d smack ya.¡±

    ¡°Well, then tell me.¡± I responded fatigued. ¡°I¡¯ve come this far¡­I¡¯m all worked up over here now.¡±

    ¡°Dude, the first thing you have to do at a massage parlor is assess the situation.¡± He explained. ¡°You have a clean-cut look¡ªenough to be mistake for a cop. If these ¡®ho bags¡¯ get caught, they get sent back home to their miserable lives. You have to establish from the get-go you¡¯re not a cop.¡±

    ¡°How do I do that? Just tell them ¡°I¡¯m not a cop¡±?¡±

    ¡°Man, I wish I could smack you right now. No!¡± He yelled. ¡°When they walk inside the room, you engage em¡¯ in some small talk¡­to make em¡¯ feel comfortable and shit. Then you casually let them know you¡¯ve been here before. That¡¯s the only way they¡¯ll know you¡¯re on the up and up.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m doin¡¯ this.¡± I broke. ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡°Hey man, you¡¯re single. You¡¯re not married. Half the creeps that go to these places are married. You¡¯re just a man with needs.¡±

    ¡°Nice to know I¡¯m only half a creep.¡± I replied, thoroughly feeling defeated. ¡°Thanks for the advice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll work. Trust me.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Later.¡±

    Feeling like the greatest sleazeball on the planet but determined to get this right, I jumped in another cab. The driver knew of a massage parlor just a few minutes away. Afraid to be seen with my lion head roaring, after being dropped off, I ran inside like a vampire escaping the day. From behind the desk emerged an attractive Asian girl from the desk, both youthful and sexy, to greet me. Immediately turned on as she led me to our room, there was nothing stopping me from believing this would be my final destination.

    ¡°Please take off your clothes.¡± She instructed.

    I nodded with a smile and after she exited, began removing my clothing. Contemplating not to put the white towel on top of my buttocks to remove any doubt why I showed up here at eight on a Saturday morning, I decided against the move. Lying down on the white sheeted table, I couldn¡¯t help but get aroused fantasizing about the elusive happy ending. Each tick of the clock increased my anxiousness bringing me that much closer to pure pleasure. It shocked me how great my libido truly was. Sure, I pleasured myself from time to time, sometimes twice a day, but I never craved it like this before. A whole new world opened up to me in Vegas, and although it came at a cost, so did being in love. This didn¡¯t feel like an addiction, just a need to have someone else, other than my usual self, gratify me. I had spent over a thousand dollars already and wasn¡¯t going to call it quits on this investment. I needed to see a return.

    When the door opened, I heard the sound of feet slapping against sandals getting louder. I then imagined what she looked like naked and how she felt. Following her inside the room was enough to turn me on. Securing my head squarely within the breathing hole on the bed, it was time to make her feel comfortable as great anticipation filled me.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been here in a month.¡± I exclaimed. ¡°You girls always give good massages. I could use a really good massage this morning.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry, Baby.¡± Replied a voice with a masculine tenor as the room suddenly turned dim. ¡°I¡¯m gonna give you a really good one.¡±

    When its hands, the size of a baseball mitt, touched my back, my tongue froze inside my mouth. Petrified in every sense of the word, I was torn¡ªshould I remain still or turn over? Whatever this was, one thing was certain¡ªthis was not the girl who greeted me at the front desk. As I grappled with false advertising, turning around to face this thing scared me just as much as its hands on my back did. I then felt hair brush along the side of my face.

    ¡°Do you like it medium?¡± It whispered. ¡°Or hard, Baby?¡±

    Like a parachutist who had no choice but to jump out of an airplane at forty thousand feet, I replied ¡°Medium¡±. As its large hands massaged my back, I did the only thing I could after losing sixty dollars¡ªpretend it was the girl at the front desk. I couldn¡¯t deny the massage felt good, turning my initial fear into the hope a beautiful Asian with the voice of Barry White was my masseuse. Remembering this would like cost me an extra twenty dollars when it wants a tip afterwards made me try to enjoy it anymore. After being so hell bent for a happy ending, I likely deserved this scenario. Suddenly a fear rushed over me¡­what if I had a heart attack on the table and died before the massage was over? I could already picture the scene, my mother crying over me lying on a massage table with the small towel pitched upward. Yep, that would be my luck. Then there would be Mitch telling her ¡°what a way to go.¡±. My father probably would refuse to pay for a funeral and find other ways to dispose of me, like digging a hole in the desert.

    After what seemed like two hours had passed yet only forty minutes into the massage it was now time to turn over. I thought about sliding off the table to the ground first, but its mitts were on firmly my back to discourage me. Left to prayers, I turned over and looked up into the very dark room. The figure who stood above me was hard to describe, but it appeared big enough and had short enough hair to be taken for a man. When I considered the deep voice, it was a chance I could no longer take. What I made out in the dark wasn¡¯t anything I wanted to receive a happy ending from. I then shifted my face in the direction of a clock Stevie Wonder would¡¯ve had an easier time seeing.

    ¡°Would you look at the time?¡± I announced. ¡°My God, I didn¡¯t realize what time it was. I¡¯m late for a company breakfast. I gotta go.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to take care of this for you, Baby?¡± It inquired, touching me in a spot of most resistance at the moment.

    ¡°Oh, no. That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± I answered, springing from the table. ¡°That massage was great. Here¡¯s twenty dollars. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure, Baby?¡± It replied, making a sudden grab for my crotch.

    ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks.¡± I said, averting danger by moving away just in time then walking around the table to make a dash for my clothes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get you a cup of water then.¡± It obliged, with a deep tone of disappointment.

    ¡°Water would be good.¡± I responded, trying to cover myself with a towel the size of a wash cloth. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    When the darkened figure left the room, I raced to put my clothes back on as if the sound of the door closing was a gun shot. When the transgender masseuse reappeared with a cup of water, I shot it down like a tequila shot¡ªno lime required. Handing her, I guess that¡¯s what it was in light, my empty cup I exited the room. And making sure to ignore the sexy young greeter¡¯s goodbyes on my way out. After leaving the second massage parlor with greater disappointment than the first, I vowed to never step inside another one again. Handily defeated in my war on love, it seemed all was lost while flagging down a cab down to my hotel room. The torrid nine a.m. Vegas sun piercing unsuspecting eyes I could barely keep open. Dropping another twenty bucks for the ride to the MGM Grand, a young Hispanic kid handed me a thin pamphlet upon exiting the cab. Too tired to shoo the kid away, it found my hand before saying no. My eyes, searching for a trash can to toss it into, caught a glimpse that stopped me in my tracks¡ªthe tan curvy brunette in lingerie on its cover jolting me back to life. Quickly glossing through pages inundated with advertisements for prostitutes in the area, my will to fight caught a second wind. Grabbing my phone to call on of the listed numbers, I shook my head.

    ¡°What the hell am I doin¡¯.¡± I muttered to myself, putting my phone back in my pocket.

    Tucking the pamphlet under my arm, I resigned myself to manually relieving myself then catching some sleep while heading back to my room. Almost passing out from exhaustion in the elevator, upon reaching my room I threw the pamphlet on the night stand and crashed on the bed face first¡ªtoo wasted to masturbate.

    When my eyes opened, the clock read six thirty-seven p.m.¡ªa nice nine hours of shut eye. Needing five minutes to realize where I was, the cover of the pamphlet, lying on the night stand like a long-lost friend, reminded me. With a sober and sound mind, I stood up to toss it in the trash but stopped myself. Was I ready to wave the white flag? To settle for being the kind of man no woman wanted to be with? This war was about making myself completely numb to love, but as long as I treated it with great reverence, what woman would understand me? My sexual experiences have been mostly with one girl who discarded me without a care. Why? Because she had become numb to love¡ªsex was just an act to her. To me, it epitomized love. To win this war on love, sex had to mean nothing but an act to me too. Having sex carried to much significance to me when it carried little significance to members of our loveless society. They would always be in control of the relationship if I didn¡¯t put myself on par with them. Although I had been thoroughly annihilated in a war, I unwittingly waged on myself, there still existed a chance to strike a crucial target.

    After perusing the pamphlet once again, I came across Diamond, the exotic woman on the front cover and grabbed my phone. When the phone began to ring on the other end, I hung up. How far have I fallen? Did I really want to have sex with a prostitute? How did I become the human Titanic? Sinking myself to the deepest depths? What about all the emotions I¡¯ve poured into women for nothing? Being discarded just for loving someone or showing interest in them? What did I have to live for, anyway? Holding the phone in my hand at this moment seemed to be the most power I¡¯ve ever held in my life. Sitting alone in a Vegas hotel room, my life reached a crossroads, and after three rings, my metamorphosis seemed complete.

    ¡°Hello? Can I help you?¡± Asked a sweet female voice on the other end.

    ¡°Hi¡­Ummm¡­I dunno. Is this Diamond?¡±

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡± She confirmed. ¡°Are you lookin¡¯ to spend some time with Diamond tonight, Honey?¡±

    ¡°If she¡¯s available¡­if she could come to my room.¡±

    ¡°She would love to come by and see you tonight. She¡¯s out at the moment but will be available in three hours, Sweetie.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect. Uh¡­do you know what she charges?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a three hundred dollar minimum for showing up at your door. We¡¯ll have to charge your credit card over the phone. Then you guys negotiate the rest of her fee based on what you want to do and how much time you want to spend with her.¡±

    ¡°So around six hundred dollars?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say, Sweetie. That¡¯s up to Diamond.¡±

    Checking my wallet, I counted eight one-hundred-dollar bills before reluctantly giving her my credit card number and my location.

    ¡°Okay, Honey. Diamond will be there to see you in a few hours. Enjoy your time!¡±

    After thanking her then hanging up the phone, I gazed at Diamond¡¯s picture while questioning my sanity. The last thing on my mind was bringing condoms with me, but after striking out at the massage parlor, I could only hope Diamond had one to spare. Being alone for so long put me more in touch with myself in the literal sense, but all the while suppressing my libido. It was only a matter of time before my subconscious would be awakened. Blaming Delicious for this seemed to be the easy thing to do, but my rational inhibited mind was the true culprit.

    Reaching inside my suitcase, a bottle of Crown Royal emerged in my hand. Hoping to save a few bucks, I threw a few ice cubes from the room¡¯s mini bar into a heavy glass tumbler. As the whiskey poured my only though was there was no way I could do this sober. Two hours and four glasses later, my buzz was on full swing. While pouring my fifth drink a bit unsteady, the room¡¯s landline began to ring. Steeped in anticipation of possibly seeing Diamond at the height of my buzz, I mad dashed it to the phone, knocking it off the night stand in the process.

    Picking up the phone off the ground as a voice wondered if anyone was there, I threw the base on the bed, and brought the receiver to my ear, the cord wrapped around my neck.

    ¡°Hello? Sorry about that.¡± I garbled.

    ¡°Is this Landyn?¡±

    ¡°It is. Is this Diamond?¡±

    ¡°No, Honey. I spoke to you earlier. It¡¯s Camille from LV Escorts.¡± She clarified. ¡°How are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fuckin¡¯ great!¡± I exclaimed, my inhibitions two sheets to the wind. ¡°Just waitin¡¯ for my Diamond, Lady! Is she on her way?¡±

    ¡°I just called to let you know Diamond¡¯s not available. Her car broke down and she¡¯s unable to make it.¡±

    ¡°I got a great set of tools. I can fix it.¡± I replied, morphing into Jeff Spicoli. ¡°Just tell me where she¡¯s at and I¡¯ll come find her. Give her a jump or whatever.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s in Utah, Honey.

    ¡°Utah? Really?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Honey. She didn¡¯t tell us she was out of town.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not drivin¡¯ out to Utah.¡± I said. ¡°Are you sure she isn¡¯t washing her hair?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no! She¡¯s really in Utah.¡±

    ¡°Well, they both make sense to me.¡± I said, slurring through my response.

    ¡°We¡¯re very sorry. We do have another girl here who can be at your room in fifteen minutes.¡± She offered. ¡°She looks just like Diamond.¡±

    ¡°Really? Just like her?¡±

    ¡°She does!¡±

    ¡°You know what¡­it¡¯s fine.¡± I replied, realizing this wasn¡¯t meant to be. ¡°I¡¯ll pass, but thank you.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure, Honey? She looks just like her.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­I¡¯m sure. I appreciate the call. Maybe next time.¡± I confirmed. ¡°Can you refund my credit charge please?¡±

    ¡°I sure will. I¡¯m really sorry, Honey. You have a good night.¡±

    ¡°No worries. Goodnight, Toots.¡±

    As I hung up the phone, my heart was too set on Diamond to settle for a replacement. I couldn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t relieved¡ªI didn¡¯t know what the hell I was doing. A higher power interfered with my undertaking to paradise, a mission I was not clearly the General or Commander of. With my fifth drink of the evening in my grasp, my balcony called out to me. Sliding then walking past the glass barrier, an enthralling city and its lights full of life magnified my insignificance. It was all within my grasp, like love, yet it remained beyond, disconnecting me like never before. Looking down onto the street below with all its frenetic energy, jumping into it could end this insignificance forever. There was nothing about this loneliness that felt changeable, especially after thirty-seven years. What remained on the horizon for me? More heartbreak? More disappointment? It would only be a matter of time before my career discarded me too. Leaning over the balustrade, I peered even further down, contemplating deeper the meaning of my existence. After pulling myself back, I leaned forward again, my heels off the ground. This time, I spilled my drink on me, and pulled myself back. When I walked back inside the room to dry off, I accepted the alcohol would soon make me drowsy and I¡¯d pass out on my bed. By the time I woke up, this night would be over along with my insatiable desire to fulfill my libido. Stumbling away from the torturous view of a vibrant city, I took off my whiskey scented shirt and refilled my glass. After taking a hearty drink, the sound of the unhung phone beeping called to me. After placing the receiver back on its base, I sat down next to the phone on my bed and took another drink. Shaking my head, I then lifted the phone to my ear.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°She looks just like Diamond?¡±

    ¡°Just like her.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Bring her in.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t be disappointed!¡± Camille claimed. ¡°We¡¯ll lower the door fee to two hundred dollars for the inconvenience. I¡¯ll refund your card for a hundred dollars.¡±

    ¡°Nice! Thank you!¡± I gleefully replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome, Honey! Enjoy your time with Candy!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I will!¡± I exclaimed.

    Diamond or no Diamond, I couldn¡¯t go out like that. Life was an experience that needed to be lived¡ªnearly hurling myself over a balustrade at the MGM proved how deeply important that was to me. It also spoke to why most Vegas hotels didn¡¯t have balconies¡ªbecause of people like me.

    A sixth Crown on the rocks splashed against my lips and down my throat to combat the nervousness, but did very little to temper my anticipation. If Candy looked anything remotely close to Diamond, this may be a very short time spent together. In the middle of my drink, a loud knock on the door announced her arrival. Upon reaching the door, I peered out the peephole to see if Candy met the hype, but was unable to get a good glimpse of her¡ªa scarf made of bright colored feathers hid her face from view. After swinging the door open and to absolutely zero surprise, based upon how my trip worked out so far, this girl looked nothing like Diamond. Diamond was sexy thin, Candy was curvy. Diamond had a round fit face; Candy had slight turkey neck. Diamond had shapely perky breasts; Candy¡¯s drooped somewhere within the feathers. The truth of the matter was, at this point, Candy was a ten.

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Candy from LV Escorts.¡± She said, extending her hand to me upon entering my room. ¡°You called the agency for some company tonight.¡±

    ¡°Hey Candy, I¡¯m Donovan. Nice to meet you¡± I replied, teetering while kissing her hand. ¡°I did. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?¡±

    ¡°No thank you.¡±

    Candy pulled a small suitcase with wheels behind her as she walked inside. When she sat down, and brought her suitcase on wheels to a halt, I imagined what kind of toys she had inside her bag of tricks. When she crossed her leg while facing me, she had my full attention.

    ¡°So, how does this work?¡± I asked. ¡°First timer here.¡±

    ¡°First timer?¡±

    ¡°First time. I meant.¡± I recovered. ¡°This is my first time using an escort service.¡±

    ¡°What is it that you want?¡±

    I sized Candy up for a few seconds before making my alcohol induced decision. She looked like a Pacific Islander. Her complexion was light brown with dark brown eyes and long straight dark hair. Her curves made me want to run my hands along them and see her naked. I even started to notice some similarities to Diamond, or maybe it was the alcohol that suggested she did. Why she wore the purple, pink and blue feathers I didn¡¯t quite understand, but I wanted to see if they were part of something she did. I knew I wanted to spend time with her, but couldn¡¯t decide on what I wanted to do.

    ¡°What are my options?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Besides sex, which I¡¯m not having with you.¡± She decisively stated. ¡°Anything that you want to.¡±

    ¡°That/s fine. Thanks for letting me know.¡± I replied, realizing not even hookers wanted to have sex with me. ¡°What would you be open to? What do people usually get/¡±

    ¡°How about this.¡± She spoke. ¡°I¡¯ll put on a show and dance for you, then we¡¯ll go from there.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    ¡°My hourly rate is a hundred dollars and you tip me based on what we decide to do and how much you like it. The more tips I get, the more I please you. How¡¯s that work for you?¡±

    ¡°Sounds fair.¡±

    ¡°Can I use your restroom to get ready for my show?¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be out in five minutes.¡± She confirmed, standing up then walking away with her suitcase in tow.

    ¡°Ok! I got five on it!¡± I teased in an attempt to loosen myself up, but the look on her face gave me the impression I was an acquired taste even for hookers.

    While Candy got ready, I considered our current state of affairs, finding it hard not to be introspective as my life collided with hers¡ªthe guilt my mother instilled in me. My hope for a love that lasted a lifetime now resided in a lonely MGM Grand hotel room, manifested through Candy, a prostitute. There also existed a sorrow for her, a woman who believed her only outlet to financial independence lied in selling her body and here I was promoting it. At the same time, though, it was hard not to feel for the broken lost male and I couldn¡¯t deny it was one hell of a service they provided to men like me. As long as protection was used and married people didn¡¯t partake in it, I didn¡¯t see it as being the worst thing in a loveless world. Afterall, we lived in a capitalistic country. If a business could use machinery to produce income, why was it wrong for someone to use their body if there was a willing consumer? The government used God, like it usually did, to justify its morality, but it was only concerned with hidden revenue they couldn¡¯t tax. Politicians were more concerned with lining their pockets than remaining one nation under God¡ªalways wanting a piece from the ones who make the sacrifices and take on the risks of earning. They wore a nice mask, always concerned with the well-being of society to justify them stealing from it. It was my biggest concern with politicians, their blatant disregard for the truth. The truth was simply this; Candy and me were both consenting adults able to make our own decisions, whether bad or good. Government had no right to make money off our pain. Especially when there were people who marry for money, a form of legal prostitution in and of itself.

    After justifying my reasons for calling Candy to my room, I wanted to remain respectful of her terms and conditions. When she emerged from the bathroom, she was dressed in pink lingerie with white open toed heels, adorning her vintage multi-colored feathered scarf dangling from her neck. Sitting on the edge of my bed, she seductively swayed her tan curvy hips and walked to me, stopping in my outreached arms. Her straight jet black hair laid nicely along her clavicle, laying upon her voluptuous breasts. Rising up from the edge of the bed, towering five inches above her, she brought her arms around my neck, her hands massaging the back of my head.

    ¡°Do you have any music?¡± She whispered into my ear.

    ¡°I guess you would need music to dance to, huh?¡± I smiled, realizing my error. ¡°This was such a spur of the moment thing for me, I didn¡¯t bring any.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a cell phone?¡±

    ¡°I do. Why?¡±

    ¡°Where is it? Can I have it for a second?¡±

    ¡°Sure, let me grab it.¡±

    I reluctantly pulled myself from her embrace then walked over to the night stand to grab my phone. Confused as to why she wanted my cell, I handed it to her.

    ¡°Here you go.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I was thinking maybe there¡¯s a ring tone on here I can dance to.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­really?¡± I laughed.

    ¡°Here¡­how¡¯s this? Winter Chimes?¡± She suggested, as digitized music played from my phone, supposedly Winter Chimes. ¡°This can work.¡±

    ¡°It can?¡± I replied, incredulously.

    ¡°Oh yeaaah¡­it can.¡± She confirmed then moving her body against mine to the sound.

    To Winter Chimes, which sounded more like a synthesized church organ than only aroused an inclination to fall asleep, Candy grinded on my lap. Deciding to make the best of things, I put my fingers and rustled her feather stole. Feeling ruffled, she tossed the scarf to the floor, as pink, purple and blue feathers flew in different directions. Grabbing my hands, she placed them on her breasts, letting me know my boundaries. Her body may have been a bit out of shape, but her skin was smooth to the touch, her nipples perking up when I gently touched them. I then imagined a person shaking their head with two hands over their eyes bearing witness to this pathetic demise of mine. Candy then started to unbutton my shirt, and when that flew off, she started to unbutton my jeans. Other than the hope of my cell phone¡¯s battery dying, that was all I really wanted at this point. After we both stripped each other¡¯s clothes off, she asked me what I wanted to do next. After fantasizing about her wet dark skin against mine, I asked if she would take a shower with me, and she ecstatically agreed. Once in the shower, I lathered her body in soap and completely bathed her. Feeling her soft wet skin aroused me more than the two-hundred-dollar rooms did at the Velvet Panther.

    After we lathered and bathed each other, her wet tan body turning me on like I¡¯ve never been before, we wrapped a large towel over us. After we dried every single part of our naked bodies, picking her up in my arms, I walked out of the bathroom and threw her on the bed. As she bounced, I slid myself next to her, moving my hands all over her clean naked body. We then began to touch each other in the places that brought us the most pleasure. A few minutes later, she opened her eyes into mine.

    ¡°Let¡¯s have sex.¡± She broke.

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t do that?¡±

    ¡°I trust you.¡± She moaned, as my finger stumbled a pleasurable spot.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a condom.¡± I confessed.

    ¡°I do.¡± She said, making a move off the bed.

    ¡°Hey Candy, listen.¡± I replied, grabbing her hand to prevent her from leaving.

    ¡°Jenna.¡±

    ¡°Jenna?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my real name is Jenna.¡±

    ¡°What happened to Candy?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t usually give my name to clients.¡± She revealed, while rubbing her hands on my chest. ¡°Safety reasons.¡±

    ¡°I understand. Hey, look.¡±

    ¡°I want you sooo bad.¡± She ignored, moving her lips into mine.

    ¡°Jenna, please don¡¯t take this the wrong way.¡± I replied, reluctantly removing my lips from her. ¡°I¡¯m very attracted to you, but I was just lookin¡¯ for some company tonight. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t have to tip me.¡± She breathed, bringing her hand to her vagina. ¡°I¡¯m sooo turned on.¡±

    Seeing her being turned on, playing with herself next to me, turned me on even more. I wanted her just as badly, but my conscience refused.

    ¡°That¡¯s very sweet of you¡­but I don¡¯t do this sort of thing.¡± Replying beyond reluctance again. ¡°I just wanted to try somethin¡¯ different. I hope you understand.¡±

    ¡°My God, I didn¡¯t expect to get so turned on by you. Your touch¡­your hands went right through me.¡± She replied, breathlessly. ¡°I¡¯m just tryin¡¯ to work my way through school and take care of my daughter. It¡¯s been tough lately.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine.¡± I told her, my hand massaging her shoulder as she sat next to me on the bed. ¡°As pathetic as this sounds, I¡¯ve had sex with only one girl in my life¡­running into losing streak with women. I was just trying to bust out of it and I didn¡¯t mean to drag you down with me¡­I feel really bad about that.¡±

    ¡°Even losing streaks come to an end.¡± She smiled. ¡°Yours will too.¡±

    ¡°How much do I owe you?¡± I responded, nodding my head but holding the knowledge of how deep this losing streak cut.

    ¡°A hundred for the show and you can tip me whatever you feel is right.¡±

    Sprawling across the bed, and into the night stand drawer, I grabbed three one hundred dollar bills then handed it to her.

    ¡°Three hundred? That¡¯s way more than the show I gave you.¡±

    ¡°Please, you deserve it. I hope it can help you out in some way¡ªthe way you¡¯ve helped me.¡± I assured. ¡°You¡¯re more than welcome to stay the night if you¡¯d like¡­as long as you don¡¯t set the alarm to Winter Chimes.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t like Winter Chimes?¡±

    ¡°It has its parts¡­but so did the video game music to Mrs. Pac-Man.¡±

    ¡°Next time you better bring tunes, then.¡±

    ¡°I know that¡­now.¡±

    Jenna smiled and brought her lips to my cheek.

    ¡°Thanks for the offer, but I¡¯d like to see if I can make it home before my daughter goes to sleep.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t compete with that.¡± I smiled.

    ¡°Here.¡± She said, handing me a multi-colored laminated business card. ¡°If you¡¯re ever back in town and wanna get together again, give me a call.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing.¡± I replied, knowing with certainty it was the last time we¡¯d see each other.

    Jenna got dressed, packed her goodies back inside her suitcase, gave me a warm hug and another peck on the cheek before departing. After closing the door and walking back into my room, I almost slipped on the bright pink, purple and blue feathers littering the carpeted floor¡ªleaving me to wonder what the cleaning crew would say about the sick guest in room seven twenty-two in the morning. Crashing onto the bed, all worked up yet too worked up to do anything about it, I waved the white flag¡ªadmitting defeat in a war I waged on myself. Lying high above a city that swirled with electricity below me, ignoring its magnetism to explore other options was now much easier. My foray into lust proving to be one of futility yet unable to comprehend the gratitude I should¡¯ve felt for all that never transpired.

    *??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*??*

    Nearly four months passed since my last visit to Sonomas. I even phoned Mitch to ask if he still hung out there and he did. The pre-war Landyn would hope he wouldn¡¯t be there, but the battle-hardened Landyn was happy he hadn¡¯t missed a beat. On my return to Sonomas, I needed his guidance.

    ¡°Dude! I can¡¯t believe me eyes!¡± Exclaimed Mitch who spotted me standing alone across from the main bar. ¡°Where¡¯s the hot chick at the coffee shop?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­that didn¡¯t work out. She still wasn¡¯t over her ex.¡±

    ¡°She dumped you, huh?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much.¡± I nodded, taking a swig of my Corona.

    ¡°Well, this¡¯ll make you feel better. You¡¯re not gonna believe this one.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°I met this chick last week on the Live Bait dating website.¡± He told me. ¡°Have you heard of it?¡±

    ¡°No. How much is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s free.¡±

    ¡°No kidding.¡±

    ¡°I never pay for these things.¡± He proudly announced. ¡°Well¡­mostly because I can¡¯t afford to.¡±

    ¡°Whataya gonna do?¡± I smiled.

    ¡°Any who, this chick is on there and she messages me so we start talkin¡¯. She sent me a pic and she¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ hottie!¡± He shouted. ¡°I asked her to meet me here tonight and she¡¯s right over there¡­the smokin¡¯ brunette standing right by the dance floor. See her?¡±

    ¡°Right there?¡± I said, pointing in her direction.

    ¡°Don¡¯t point at her, dude.¡± He scolded, slapping my hand away.

    ¡°Is it the one with the sunglasses on?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s her!¡±

    ¡°Mitch, why does she have sunglasses on?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What do you mean why?¡± He responded. ¡°She¡¯s wearin¡¯ sunglasses?¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s her. Not to mention it¡¯s ten p.m. and it¡¯s dark in here.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right, man.¡± He replied, turning his face away from mine.

    ¡°What isn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°The bitch must be blind and didn¡¯t tell me.¡± He confessed, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s gotta be like false fuckin¡¯ advertisin¡¯ or somethin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°You would hope they would disclose somethin¡¯ like that¡ªespecially if you¡¯re gonna meet.¡± I concurred. ¡°However¡­¡±

    ¡°However, what?¡±

    ¡°You get what you pay for.¡±

    ¡°Dude, whatever. I gotta go.¡±

    ¡°Where you gonna run to? It¡¯s only ten. You basically just got here.¡± I said, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°I need your wisdom tonight.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, bro but booty calls.¡± He replied. ¡°I gotta a three o¡¯ clocker here.¡±

    ¡°A three o¡¯ clocker? Who?¡±

    ¡°I gotta a chance to cross ¡°bangin¡¯ a blind chick¡± off my bucket list.¡±

    I started to laugh but when he never returned my reaction in kind, it caused me to shake my head.

    ¡°You¡¯re not kiddin? You¡¯re serious about this? Really?¡±

    ¡°Gotta run, Land.¡± He told me, starting to head towards her. ¡°Once in a lifetime shot here. Wood¡¯s already chopped. Time to bring it inside and light a match.¡±

    Mitch reminded me why his wisdom would only serve no real purpose¡ªI could never be so shameless. My eyes followed his steps as he weaseled his way into holding her hand then leading her outside¡ªthe blind leading the blind. Trying to watch this spectacle through the large windows, it became too dark for me to see outside. As I circled me head back around, bringing my eyes back inside the bar, they fell upon an old acquaintance. A familiarity that eluded me for a few seconds before realizing this person, now meeting my glance, was Anya.

 CHAPTER 21 ~ THE EMPATH

    November thirtieth two thousand and seven, just like June second two thousand and seven, nearly six months prior, was just an ordinary day. It was twenty-four hours long. There was traffic on the freeways. Grass grew. Waves rolled. Oxygen flowed. People breathed the air for the first and last time. The sun even rose and fell yet here was Anya and I, again, in the same place, unplanned, for the second time in thirty-seven years. When I saw her I internally gasped, not out of fear, but because I never thought I would see her again. As she stood there in a glorious posture with her twilight dark feathered hair and her exposed shoulders turned in my direction, I felt the excruciating urge to explain myself as to why I left her there alone in tears nearly six months ago with the same need she must had felt when she revealed her husband had cheated on her. I don¡¯t believe I owed her details, but I did owe her an explanation. It was not in my nature to leave a woman, regardless of her circumstances, cold and alone without an explanation of some kind, and if I could not provide an ample one, I felt at the very least an apology was entirely in order.

    As I walked toward Anya, she put her head down and turned her back to me, which raised the doubt my approach was a good idea, and that maybe I should walk away, but the closer I got, whether it was the fear she felt that I would do just that, the more her body acknowledged my presence although without the slightest of smiles. All I really needed from her though was an opening, an open door to at least apologize, and then move on to the rest of my evening¡­or better yet, life¡­ if she didn¡¯t care for an explanation. When I reached her she turned to fully face me with reservation as she stood next to her friend Debbie.

    ¡°Hi stranger.¡± I said.

    ¡°Hey.¡± she said quietly. ¡°Do you remember Debbie?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Nice to see you again Debbie.¡±

    ¡°Nice to see you too.¡± said Debbie in a polite tone as she nodded her head.

    ¡°How are you?¡± I asked Anya.

    ¡°Okay. And you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m okay. Thanks for asking.¡± I said. ¡°How are things at home?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­you know¡­the same.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I was hoping things would change there for you.¡± I stated. ¡°How are your kids?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re good. Thanks for asking.¡±

    She smiled slightly when I asked her how her kids were, but by the tone of her voice it seemed my presence was unwanted. I didn¡¯t know what to say, but I also didn¡¯t want to ruin her night as I felt I was doing just that. It was clear the proper thing to do at this point was to just apologize, say goodbye and walk away.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry to intrude¡­I just wanted to see how you were doing¡­I will let you go. It was nice to see you both again.¡± I told them. ¡°Enjoy your evening ladies.¡±

    After turning to walk away, I hadn¡¯t taken two steps before hearing Anya¡¯s voice once more.

    ¡°Do you even remember my name?¡± she bellowed just enough so I could hear.

    ¡°Anya.¡± I said as I approached her. ¡°Pronounced ¡°Awn-ya¡± and not ¡°Ann-ya¡±. Of course I do. How could I forget?¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what else to say as seeing Anya again was completely unforeseen even in my conditioned mind of great hopelessness. I had abandoned her that night and the way she looked at me I could tell she didn¡¯t understand why. In fact with the look on her face, I was surprised she even talked to me at all yet she still found the strength to turn and face me¡­to possibly give me a chance to make amends. She was not menacing in her response to me, and I didn¡¯t perceive it as even anger, but rather hurt and confusion as it left me to believe that a complete stranger she felt a connection with was held to a higher standard. To be honest, with the pained look on her face, not one of aggression, not one of ire, but of melancholy, I found it hard to believe she had the courage to even take a single breath to talk to me again.

    ¡°Landyn, Debbie and I have to go home now.¡± she said abruptly. ¡°It was nice to see you again. Take care.¡±

    As Anya and Debbie both grabbed their purses off of the small table and started for the door, I felt the natural impulse to lightly grab Anya¡¯s hand before she left because I didn¡¯t want her to hate me. The warmth and softness of her hand as I felt it in mine for the first time dealt my heart a blow as she turned to me with sudden reddened eyes.

    ¡°Would you be willing to meet me for a drink somewhere so I can explain myself to you?¡± I asked as I looked directly into them. ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk to me ever again after that. Heck, you can even leave me there alone if you want to. If you¡­if you¡­could just give me an opportunity to talk to you for a little bit¡­ I¡¯d really appreciate it.¡±

    She kept her head down and away in an effort to ignore my glance, but kept her hand in mine as several seconds passed before she gave me her answer.

    ¡°Where?¡± she asked as she tilted her head upwards to look at me.

    ¡°Luke¡¯s in Huntington Beach.¡± I said. ¡°Are you available next Sunday evening?¡±

    ¡°I can meet you there next Sunday.¡± she confirmed. ¡°Is seven o¡¯clock okay?¡±

    ¡°Seven. Perfect¡­thank you. THANK YOU.¡± I said. ¡°Well let me let you go¡­goodnight. Goodnight Debbie. Please drive safe.¡±

    Both Debbie and Anya waved goodnight to me as they exited Sonomas, and after they left I felt like my night was over as well so I headed home about ten minutes later. All I needed was for her to know, if not understand, why I left her there that night. I didn¡¯t plan on going into the details of my past relationships as I felt too embarrassed to share them, and quite frankly I despised the ¡°oh woe is me¡±, ¡°poor baby¡±, ¡°things didn¡¯t work out for me¡± anthem as I felt if I shared the details of my past bad luck with women, I¡¯d appear weak even though it would better explain why I left her there. Anya had been cheated on by someone who promised to love her until death parted them, and I didn¡¯t want to add to her pain. She was clearly hurt by what I did and undoubtedly suffered from low self-esteem issues like I had my entire existence and I couldn¡¯t have that on my conscience. I had to make it right, and being a person who had been stricken with low self-esteem for years, I felt it was my responsibility to raise hers. I also felt the added burden to set the record straight as I needed to obliterate the unbroken silence of this irritable ideology I held inside about her situation as well; a sickness about it all I held inside for the last six months.

    When I returned to work on the Monday after my vacation, the very second he saw me, Clyde Kirchner asked me to come into his office and to shut the door. He then requested that I have a seat and handed me a newsletter of some kind. Before I could read it though, Clyde informed me what it was all about.

    ¡°Jackson Caiaphas kindly donated twenty thousand dollars to the Ashley Cunningham Family Fund, a fundraiser he is sponsoring to help pay for the family¡¯s medical bills. I thought we should make a donation to the cause as well.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I said. ¡°How horrible. It looks like they lost two of their three children in an auto accident.¡±

    ¡°The father, mother and their remaining child are all in the hospital without any medical insurance.¡± Said Clyde. ¡°I thought it was a nice thing for Mr. Caiaphas to do.¡±

    ¡°It certainly is.¡±

    ¡°I also brought you in here to let you know that Mr. Caiaphas and CPG have decided to hire us as their auditors.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic!¡± I replied, perking up. ¡°That¡¯s great news. Huge news!¡±

    ¡°Landyn, I initially wanted you manage the engagement, but I decided to have Kevin run it instead.¡± he informed me.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I said a little stunned and wholly disappointed but fighting not to show it. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything wrong did I?¡±

    ¡°Well, after your impressive presentation to Mr. Caiaphas, I would like to have you accompany me on other meetings I have scheduled as I¡¯d like to get you more partner ready.¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to have you one day be the lead partner on the CPG engagement and not the manager.¡±

    ¡°Wow. I don¡¯t know what to say. ¡± I answered, truly surprised. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your efforts Landyn.¡± he said before standing then walking around his desk, patting me on the shoulder before opening his office door. ¡°You¡¯re on your way son. You¡¯re on your way.¡±

    As I shook Clyde¡¯s hand before I left his office, I felt torn. I was ecstatic we obtained CPG as a client as I knew this would take the firm to the next level; we were now all on our way, not just me, but on the other hand, it appeared to come at the expense of Kevin¡¯s promotion to partner. I just always assumed he would be partner before I did because of his tenure, but knowing all the struggles he had at home and how their improvement depended on his promotion, I couldn¡¯t enjoy the positive news at all. Unable to embrace the moment as I walked back to my office, I suddenly heard Kevin¡¯s voice call me from his own.

    ¡°Land!¡± he yelled. ¡°Landyn Lastman! Get in here bud!¡±

    ¡°Hey Kev! How¡¯s it going?¡± I replied cautiously entering.

    ¡°It¡¯s going good. Did you hear about us netting the Orca? CPG?¡±

    ¡°I did. Clyde just told me as I walked in. Isn¡¯t that somethin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Clyde must have gave Jackson Caiaphas one hell of a pitch to get that account. Guess who¡¯s managing the engagement?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I asked in an effort to play dumb as I remembered Clyde told me no one was to know I went up to San Francisco with him on the pitch meeting, and I didn¡¯t want it to appear Clyde had revealed anymore CPG related news to me than I already had to Kevin.

    ¡°Yours truly!¡± he exclaimed excitedly as he extended his arms outward. ¡°It sure sounds like a promotion to partner is in my near future if they gave me that account to manage. Doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It sure sounds like it Kev.¡± I said as cheerful as I could. ¡°You sure would deserve it.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­it sure looks much clearer now after they handed that account over to me. I was starting to get a little worried especially with Sadie riding me every day about our current living arrangements at her mom¡¯s house with the baby on the way. It would really help my situation¡­you know?¡±

    ¡°I know. It sure would. Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Where are you headed off to?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m actually staying in the office today to catch up and then back on the dusty trail tomorrow in Despairia.¡±

    ¡°Well, enjoy it.¡± he said. ¡°I have a meeting lined up this afternoon with Jackson Caiaphas to go over the audit.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great. Good luck with everything.¡± I said as I began to leave his office. ¡°Oh¡­and congratulations.¡±

    ¡°Thanks Land.¡±

    As I left his office I shrieked inside as I suddenly realized Kevin would soon find out that ¡°Landman¡± was at the meeting in San Francisco. I almost went back in to tell him about my presence there, but then reasoned there could also be a chance Jackson would not even mention it as I felt he had overlooked me enough to possibly forget. If he did tell him however, I would let Kevin know the truth, but at least for the moment, I didn¡¯t want to take any of his hope away as even though my promotion appeared favorable it was still uncertain. I know Kevin felt a ton of daily stress and if I could lift some weight of the universe off his shoulders in my silence, I would become a mute.

    The work week went by pretty quick, and when Kevin returned from his meeting with Jackson Caiaphas without the slightest clue I was there at the pitch meeting, it brought me great relief. All week long though, I seemed to drift away in my thoughts about Sunday evening with Anya as this meeting had a different feel than the first one. The goal of my first meeting was to help her find the love missing from her marriage. The goal of the second meeting was to help her understand why I left her behind nearly six months ago, and I had a lot to say to her. Things that I never knew I even carried an opinion about, but they were strong, and they were there. Beyond all else, the main goal of this meeting was to build her self-esteem back up again and to apologize. I also prepared myself for the very plausible chance she may leave me there too, or even stand me up, but I knew I¡¯d deserve it. As long as she gave me the chance to apologize, she could run for the hills, and I¡¯d wish her the best of luck. Before I headed to Luke¡¯s though, I decided to visit my parents in the late afternoon for it had been a couple of weeks since I last visited. When I arrived, my dad wasn¡¯t home, but when I went to my mom¡¯s room to surprise her, she wasn¡¯t there either as I was greeted by what had to be a hundred packs of various Duracell batteries that nearly covered her entire bed.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Hi Honey!¡± my mother said as she suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and then swiftly bear hugged me from behind. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Hi Mom.¡± I said as I warmly touched her arms that held onto me. ¡°I just thought I¡¯d stop by¡­it¡¯s been awhile. What¡¯s going on in here? Are you Duracell¡¯s version of the Avon lady now?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, there seems to be more Duracell batteries in your room than at the Duracell battery factory.¡±

    ¡°Oh these? Oh¡­these are just batteries Duracell sent me. Really nice of them huh? I¡¯m not going to run out of batteries for a long time!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s for sure. Why did they send you all these batteries?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she said as she tried to catch her breath. ¡°Sorry¡­kind of winded here. It¡¯s because I wanted an Energizer Bunny.¡±

    How the Energizer Bunny, the mascot of Energizer batteries was related to Duracell, its greatest competitor, as their batteries littered my mother¡¯s bed, could baffle even the great Sherlock Holmes. If my mother had created the board game Clue, no one would ever win.

    ¡°Mom.¡± I stated so I could pause to wrap my head around all of this before me. ¡°You want an Energizer Bunny, yet you have Duracell batteries? Why wouldn¡¯t you have Energizer batteries?¡±

    ¡°Well, you see¡­let me catch my breath¡­was working out in the yard. Do you know my friend Pam?¡±

    ¡°Pam¡­the lady who works at the school¡¯s cafeteria with you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s her. She¡¯s been over here a few times.¡±

    ¡°I know who she is. I remember her.¡±

    ¡°Well she has Cancer. Stage four which is the worst kind.¡±

    ¡°Really? I didn¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡± I said.

    ¡°Even though she has a poor prognosis, I¡¯m always trying to lift her spirits. There¡¯s always hope!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Pam is amazing. She never takes a day off even when she has chemo treatments. She even stays late if she has to. She never stopped coming to work even after she lost her hair. She¡¯s always buzzing around¡­getting things done¡­just really inspiring to watch. She just goes, and goes, and goes¡­so everyone at work started to call her the Energizer Bunny. I thought it would be neat to find the Energizer Bunny for her to put in her office¡­but everywhere I looked¡­I couldn¡¯t find one anywhere.¡±

    ¡°The bunny with the drum that keeps going and going? They don¡¯t sell it at any stores?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve looked everywhere so I decided to write the company to see if I could get it directly from them.¡±

    ¡°What happened? Did Energizer send you Duracell batteries to get rid of you?¡± I laughed.

    ¡°No Stunod!¡± she said. ¡°I accidentally wrote to Duracell instead. Here¡¯s the letter.¡±

    The letter appeared to be hand written by the president of the Duracell Battery Company as he informed my mother of her blunder in a polite way; however he also included the address to Energizer for her along with a generous shipment of Duracell batteries. After I read the letter, I was truly moved by it. The president of Duracell responded to a letter, from a non-customer wanting an item from its greatest competitor yet instead of seizing the chance to make its competitor look bad, decided to take it as an opportunity to make someone happy instead. He could have tossed the letter in the waste basket and never responded to hurt Energizer¡¯s reputation, but instead he did the right thing by being honest while building the Duracell brand in the process. In a greedy world, when the public is wary of corporate greed and its lack of integrity, this man with just a simple yet honest gesture, solidified a set of core values missing from today¡¯s business environment. To me, he was a true capitalist, as Rockefeller and Carnegie as they come, and what our forefathers dreamt this country¡¯s value systems would be as I learned from this simple letter, more than I could learn from inside thousands of textbooks in how you do business with not only someone, but with everyone. Honesty to this man, was truly the best policy.

    ¡°That was really nice of them.¡± I said as I handed her back the letter. ¡°Very professional. Very ethical.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it? I wrote Energizer yesterday. Would you proofread the letter for me before I mail it out since you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going all dressed up?¡± she asked. ¡°On a Sunday night? I know it¡¯s not church.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to meet a friend for a little bit this evening.¡±

    ¡°A friend? Okay.¡± she said. ¡°Do I know this friend?¡±

    ¡°No¡­I just met her.¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re just friends.¡±

    ¡°Okay honey.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Dad?¡± I asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s at the park.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he works at that park so much. He¡¯s retired now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­well¡­I guess it gets him out of the house. Keeps him busy.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡± she said. ¡°So who¡¯s this friend?¡±

    ¡°A girl I met about six months ago. I ran into her again last weekend. I was rude to her a few months ago so I wanted to kind of make amends.¡±

    ¡°Is she a nice girl?¡±

    ¡°Oh really nice girl. I just want to explain to her some things. It shouldn¡¯t take more than an hour.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s the one?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so Mom.¡± I laughed knowing all she didn¡¯t. ¡°She¡¯s just a friend.¡±

    ¡°You never know what the future holds.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true¡­but she will always be just a friend.¡±

    ¡°Landyn honey, I know you have gone through a lot with girlfriends in your life. I know you have a loving heart and sometimes that hurts you. Just do me one favor.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let anyone ever change who you are. The right girl will appreciate your heart and believe me¡­she¡¯s out there.¡±

    ¡°I know¡­things happen for a reason. Right?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more than that.¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s part of it¡­but it¡¯s more than that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to remember that.¡± I said as I smiled at her.

    After she gave me this advice, we talked a little bit more, I proofread her letter, made sure it was sealed and even offered to mail it for her. After she accepted my offer, I gave her a hug goodbye but before I left she made sure I had a good supply of Duracell batteries to take home with me. On my drive to Huntington Beach, my mind was flooded, like my mother¡¯s bed full of all those batteries, with all the things I wanted to say to Anya as I wanted to make sure I was efficient in communicating my reasons to her in case she left before I could have a chance to.

    This time, I found myself inside the bar before her, and since there was no sign of her, I immediately presumed she had stood me up, but I decided to wait fifteen minutes before I convinced myself of that assumption. I was the only one at the bar area when I arrived, and at the very second I sat down on the bar stool, the bartender immediately spotted me and took my drink order. Even though the bar area was huge much like the Pacific Grill, the restaurant area at Luke¡¯s was much larger and quite lavish as each table was adorned with a white table cloth, a set of wine glasses and decorated porcelain plates. I noticed just next to the bar, just about fifteen feet away from where I sat, was a glass door that led to a patio area. A minute later when a couple emerged from those very glass doors, I could hear the waves from the nearby beach crash along the shore as I thought whoever Luke was, he sure had some prime real estate.

    At just three minutes past seven, twelve minutes before my assumption became official; I felt a light touch on my shoulder. As I slowly turned around I caught a familiar scent of a sweet mixture of lotion and perfume. Even though I felt she wasn¡¯t the kind of person to not show up, I was still surprised when Anya did.

    ¡°Hi.¡± I said as I stood up before she took a seat at the bar stool next to mine. ¡°Thank you so much for meeting me here.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± she said as she sat down.

    ¡°Excuse me! Bartender?¡± I said as I motioned for him to come over to us.

    ¡°David Arthur 2003 Cabernet?¡± I asked Anya as her eyes widened and she paused briefly to possibly catch up with her thoughts before she spoke.

    ¡°Yes¡­please.¡±

    We both smiled at each other before I told the bartender what she would have. As he turned to get her drink I came upon the natural instinct to tell her she looked nice as I felt it would be a rather non-gentlemanly thing for me to not do so. The truth was though, she did. She looked very nice in her black blouse and dark blue jeans, and it would have been a crime not to acknowledge it regardless of the circumstances.

    ¡°You look really nice tonight.¡± I said.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± she said with her brown eyes widened again as if it was the first compliment she had ever received.

    I looked sheepishly away until the bartender arrived with her drink as I wanted to buy some time for the alcohol from my beer to kick in a little before I spoke. When she received her drink, she didn¡¯t immediately reach for it. Instead, she looked at it pensively and didn¡¯t take her eyes off of it. After ten seconds had passed, I began to understand this wasn¡¯t normal procedure for a fine wine drinker as I felt it was the right time to step up to the plate, but before I could, she threw one right down the middle.

    ¡°You broke my heart.¡± she said.

    ¡°I broke your heart?¡± I asked sensitively but with astonishment.

    ¡°Yes.¡± she confirmed with her cab still untouched.

    I was shaken by her unexpected reveal as I had never truly broken anyone¡¯s heart before and had become so accustomed to being the breakee. I felt the sudden need, like I had just stumbled upon a live beehive to get away to a safe place in case I was stung again, but I needed privacy and a natural artist¡¯s exquisite ambiance to do so.

    ¡°Anya, could we talk outside in the patio area?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± she said quietly as she picked up her still untouched glass of wine.

    I made a couple of large strides so I could get to the door before she did. As I opened the door for her, she thanked me as we both entered the patio area together, an area we had all to ourselves, and into a pleasantly warm early December air with a breeze that breathed lightly. We then walked up to a long counter with tall wooden chairs placed across a small boundary wall that gave us a view of a full moon and it¡¯s radiant anti-shadow as it shined in our direction upon the ocean, a body of water that rose and fell just fifty yards beyond our sight. After we both took in the art museum worthy view, we turned to face each other as I broke the awe inspired silence.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Anya. That¡¯s why I asked you to come out here. I wanted to apologize.¡± I said. ¡°It was rude to leave you there all alone¡­I should have stayed, but I needed time to absorb what you told me. It was really heavy stuff and it was unexpected. I truly apologize. I didn¡¯t mean to break your heart. I left you not because I didn¡¯t like you.¡±

    ¡°Why did you leave me then?¡±

    ¡°I left you because¡­¡± I said as I looked down to pause briefly. ¡°I left because I saw myself in you. I saw my own reflection¡­I saw my own soul¡­that¡¯s why I left. I was afraid to get hurt.¡±

    Her dark eyes, with the moon as their backdrop, gazed into mine as they formed an emotion I could hardly process, a mixture of surprise and sadness.

    ¡°I guess I could understand.¡± she said. ¡°My situation.¡±

    ¡°Your situation.¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°What don¡¯t you understand?¡±

    ¡°A lot.¡±

    ¡°What do you want to know?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you anything.¡±

    ¡°How many times did your husband cheat on you again?¡±

    ¡°Four times.¡± she confirmed. ¡°Once when I was pregnant with Andrew¡­that was with another married woman. Another time about three years later with another married woman. Two years after that with a sales rep of ours, and then three years ago with our receptionist¡­ but that one I never got any proof of unlike the other times he admitted to¡­I just kind of assumed from past experience especially after he fired her for no reason. At that point I became numb. Numb to love. Numb to everything. He¡¯s chipped my heart away and there¡¯s just nothing left anymore. I just focused on my kids. They are my everything¡­but you know, I should have known the day he told me he would trade me in for two twenty year olds when I turned forty that I would be hurt eventually.¡±

    After she detailed her husband¡¯s gross infidelities and I cringed upon his insensitive trade-in remark, I thought about the Duracell batteries scattered on the top of my mother¡¯s bed at home as I realized those could stay there forever because my mom and dad shared different beds, and the sadness in that shook me. It didn¡¯t matter what was on the bed, there was no intimacy, no passion, not even cuddling, and I began to feel for Anya¡¯s situation even more, and even though I know the past pained her and I hated to bring it up again, I needed consistency from her. A consistency I could latch onto, something I could trust, like an unchanged story from six months ago, but I also received more than I intended to hear, and a lot more than I wanted to know, but it was all I needed to know, as everything she said pierced my mind, like a hundred Excaliburs, and it prompted the release of all I ached to tell her for the last six months, but was never able to.

    ¡°I can¡¯t comprehend this¡­¡± I said as I shook my head while I held it in my hands. ¡°This is so hard for me to wrap my head around.¡±

    ¡°What can¡¯t you comprehend¡­I¡¯ve told you nothing but the truth.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t comprehend how a man, who has everything I¡¯ve always dreamed of having in life¡­a beautiful wife, and wonderful family¡­how he could go out and cheat on them all, with another married woman nonetheless, when his wife is at home carrying his unborn child. On this earth, out of all the things a person who you trust to love you can do¡­he does the coldest thing imaginable, and really the only reason you know about it is because¡­is because he got caught. ¡±

    When I had finished my statement, she then pulled her lips from her wine glass, and laid it down on the mini counter to look directly at me without a tear, as it gave me the assurance to continue.

    ¡°Of all the times to cheat on you, he chose a time when you were most vulnerable. A time when you needed him the most. When you¡¯re going through morning sickness, along with the everyday aches and pains that come with carrying not only a child, but his child¡­as you sacrifice a body that will never be the same again for his love. And that¡¯s just the physical toll as I¡¯m sure the emotional toll was just as, if not more overbearing as you were left alone to care for two children, one born and one unborn while wondering why he is so absent. And while you¡¯re going through all of that, he¡¯s running around on you with another man¡¯s woman that caused you so much distress that Andrew was born prematurely? And he then had the audacity to cheat on you again years later? After he made a promise to you, his wife, before God and family¡­to honor and cherish you¡­through sickness and in health¡­through good times and bad until death do you part? In my book, I don¡¯t care how many options his success allowed him to have in life, that¡¯s not a husband. That¡¯s not even a man¡­That¡¯s a monster. Please forgive me for not comprehending how someone like him¡­.gets a wonderful person like you.¡±

    Like a lyricist who wrote a chorus to touch millions, Anya looked up at me with the sincerest look of astonishment as her now tearing eyes told me I had struck a melody inside of her, a place I don¡¯t believe anyone had sung a song or even dared to sing before, but I wasn¡¯t through as it seemed I was not in control of these thoughts that brought forth words that naturally poured out of me.

    ¡°And where does his betrayal lead you to Anya? It leads you to believe that marriages are unrealistic so you can protect your heart whenever your marriage fails you. It leads you to believe love doesn¡¯t nor could it possibly exist. It leads you right into the arms of another man because you believe something you deserve is still out there while they all tell you two wrongs don¡¯t make a right, and for the most part that is true, but where there is love¡­it is love that makes everything right in the end, but it¡¯s up to you to believe that¡­and I believe we were put on this earth to trust just that. How could anyone be denied love when all the love the world promised to offer them is cruelly taken away?¡±

    Before I could say another word, her lips had found mine, and I was swept away like the sand in the waves that thundered along the beach in front of us as my irritable ideology ached inside me no more.

    ¡°I¡­I just adore you¡­¡± she said as she slowly pulled away. ¡°I¡¯ve thought of you so often over the last six months. I never thought I would see you or hear your voice again. I just want to be happy again.¡±

    ¡°I want you to be happy again¡­I think it¡¯s important. In fact, I think it¡¯s everything. If you¡¯re not happy, I don¡¯t know how your well-being could be intact for your children, especially in your situation.¡± I said as I held her hand, and put it on my heart as I looked into her eyes. ¡°I want you to trust in love again. I want you to know no one in their right mind, who truly loves you, would risk losing everything by cheating on you. I want you to know that someone would want a divorcee with ¡°baggage¡± because they know that so called ¡°baggage¡± is really a bonus package. I want you to feel safe and secure in all of what I just said. If you¡¯re not happy you should just leave¡­I¡¯d even wait for you. ¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t promise you anything but my heart¡­but I would never leave him unless you were there for me.¡±

    ¡°What do you need from me Anya? What would you need from me for you to choose happiness? What would I need to do for you to promise me you would leave him? I need to know. If we fall¡­we need you to catch each other.¡±

    ¡°I would need you to sweep me off my feet.¡±

    As I gently grabbed her hand, and looked deeply into her soft eyes, I again saw my own soul, and as I touched her warm soft face and I kissed her again, I knew sweeping her off her feet would be the easy part¡ªI was made for this. Just like the Higgs-Boson particle that held the universe together, there was no uncertainty, it still dwelled inside me and would soon dwell inside of her as I truly believed it would undoubtedly keep our universe together through whatever may come.