“So skeptical,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“For example.” I flipped the book open and noticed Bob had highlighted quotes from it. “Let me read you a bit.” My eyes fell on the words:
Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes.
I laughed to myself. Bob was right on highlighting that quote. I flipped through the book some more to find a bigger section to share.
“Okay, here,” I said. “ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part.’ ” I paused when I felt my heart start racing.
“Please continue,” he said.
“ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.’ ” A huge lump began forming in my throat. It was actually painful.
It was the answer to Jamie’s riddle. Had I known at the time what the poets said, I might have agreed that they were right, but did I believe it as I sat there in that coffee shop? Is that why I couldn’t let the memory of a few short days with Jamie escape my heart? Because it was impossible to push real love away?
“Gotta go.” I jumped up and headed for the door.
“Wait a minute. Can I get your number?”
“Sorry!” I said as I rushed out onto the street. I ran back to the alley. It was completely dark at that point, and I had to step over a couple of homeless men. “Excuse me, I’m sorry.” One of them grumbled something before I strapped my purse across my body, placed my hands on the disgusting edge of the Dumpster, and jumped up and over, landing dramatically in the knee-high trash.
Quickly realizing my suitcase was gone, I hopped back out and wiped my hands down my jeans.
“Excuse me, guys? Did you happen to see someone take my suitcase from the Dumpster?”
“Nah, we didn’t see nothin’,” said a toothless man. His beard moved up and down when he talked, like he was a puppet. It was frightening in the dark, but I swallowed back my fear and pulled out ten dollars. They both immediately threw their arms in the air, pointing behind me, and said, “She went that way!”
“Yeah, it’s Darlene. She’s got it,” said toothless man number two.
I dropped the ten dollars and turned in the direction they pointed. I didn’t see anyone but continued toward the light of a record store farther down the block. About halfway, a woman darted out of another alley. She was wheeling my suitcase, and from where I stood I could tell that she had on my jacket. As I got closer, I could see that she was also wearing my black dress over a grungy pair of sweats.
“Darlene!” I shouted.
She turned quickly, walked right up to me, and cocked her head to the side. “How do you know my name?” she barked out. Her voice was deep and rough.
“That’s my stuff.” She had on the necklace Jamie had given me. She was obviously homeless. Her skin had that dark, weathered, dirty look to it, and her hair was stringy, greasy, and gray, hanging down past her shoulders. My necklace glimmered against her neck.
“No, this is my stuff!” she screeched out.
“Look, there is stuff in there with my name on it. I can prove it to you.”
“I don’t care if you’re Barack Obama. I got this from the Dumpster. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. People don’t throw away things they want.”
“Listen. You can have it all. I just need the paperwork and that necklace. Please, it’s sentimental.”
I pulled out my wallet and handed her three twenties. She took off the necklace, handed it back to me, and set the suitcase flat and unzipped it. I grabbed the papers and realized that one of Jamie’s white T-shirts had made it into my suitcase. I reached for it.
“Uh-uh, I don’t think so, little girl.”
My eyes welled up. I let go of the shirt and took a step back. Tears dropped from my cheeks onto the woman’s back as she started to zip the suitcase up. She turned and looked up at me. I was standing in the light of a streetlamp but my face must have been shadowed from her view.
“Are you cryin’?” she snapped.
I shook my head. She yanked the shirt out and handed it back to me without turning around.
“Thank you,” I managed to say.
When she stood up, she huffed, “Cryin’ over a goddamned T-shirt. Imagine that.”
I held it to my face and inhaled. It still smelled like Jamie—like the earth, but warm and spicy, too.
I walked three blocks out of the way before heading back to my apartment building. Not wanting to surprise Dylan and Ashley, I took my book, T-shirt, necklace, and all of the papers up to the roof and waited for him to text me. I was freezing my ass off for the sake of teen love and premarital sex. I started feeling a little shame about that, so I was relieved to get a text from Dylan.
Dylan: It’s all clear. We didn’t do it. We had a nice dinner and watched TV. She’s not ready so we’re gonna wait. I have a major case of blue balls.
I chuckled.
Me: Don’t tell her that.
Dylan: I’m not an asshole.