“Do you believe people are made for each other, like there’s a force we can’t see that brings us to the person we’re meant for?”
“Is that what you believe?”
“That’s what I want to believe,” I whispered.
There was a long pause. “My parents were so happy and in love, it’s hard for me to believe that they weren’t made for each other. When my mother was killed, my father began to die, too. He couldn’t live without her.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
“Yes, but in a weird way it gave me hope that there’s a bigger plan for us. I think it gave me faith in love. I can’t imagine that what I’m feeling for you isn’t because of some kind of infinite power over our souls. You were the light coming toward me as I stood in the darkness. I only got through losing my father because I thought I was coming home to you. When I found out you were gone, I was crushed. I was fucking crushed, but not ruined, because I still had hope. Just the thought of you gave me enough light to see things clearly.”
“What was the hope?”
“That you were feeling the same thing I was, and that the love couldn’t be torn out of you the same way it couldn’t be torn out of me.”
“I’m overwhelmed.”
“Please don’t overanalyze this. Take your time. Call me when you’re ready.”
After a few moments, I finally resigned myself to Jamie’s suggestion. This wasn’t going to be fixed in a day. “Okay. Sweet dreams,” I said.
“Only about you.”
We hung up. Jamie was truly a conundrum. What a life he had already lived, and now he was this old soul who believed, from the depths of his heart, that I was the one for him.
Coming out of my apartment the next day, I spotted Darlene, the homeless woman, selling a random selection of items on the street corner. She had several articles of clothing, two pairs of shoes, and a few pieces of jewelry spread out on a thick wool blanket. I spotted my black camisole and black T-shirt right away. I also noticed that she was still using my suitcase to cart things around in.
“Hey! Girl!” she shouted at me. “Come over here. I have something you’d like.” I was wearing Mary Jane heels and a black leather jacket over a black-and-white polka-dotted wrap dress.
As I approached her, she held up a pair of bright red cowboy boots. “You’re a seven, right?” She knew that because she was in possession of at least three pairs of my shoes.
“Yes.”
“These would be adorable on you.”
“I don’t know, Darlene. Cowboy boots aren’t really my thing.”
“They’ll keep your legs warmer.”
I laughed and thought, Why not? I was feeling bold. “How much do you want for ’em?”
“A hundred bucks.”
“Ha. You’re insane.”
“Maybe so. Whaddaya got?”
“Five bucks, and I’ll give you these Mary Janes.”
“Deal.”
I looked at the bottom of the boots; they were brand new. After I handed over my shoes and money, I slipped the boots on and clunked my way toward the L.
When I got to the Crier, Beth said, “What’s with the shoes?”
“I’m a little bit country, I’m a little rock and roll? Lay off.” I turned to find Jerry leaning against my partition, smiling.
“Aww, Kate. Remember when you first started working here and you tried to get everyone to wear certain colors on certain days of the week?”
“Yes, I do remember that. What’s wrong with a little team spirit? The assholes in the design department said it would hinder their creativity. Come on.”
“And remember when you petitioned the coffee cart girl to sell gluten-free pastries?” He smirked.
“Those scones were hard as rocks,” Beth said.
“Yes, but the chocolate croissants were to die for.”
“What about when you asked if we could have a mascot and then dressed in that stupid outfit all week?”
“What stupid outfit?” I squinted my eyes.
“It was a pink rabbit, right?” Beth asked.
“No, that was Easter.” Jerry held his stomach and started laughing.
“That was fun, guys,” I fake-whined. “Tell me your kids didn’t love that, Jer.”
“My kids didn’t love that,” he said seriously. “My son Davey was traumatized. He kept saying, ‘Dad, why does the Easter Bunny have boobs?’ ”
“You should have told him the truth, that the Easter Bunny is a girl. It would have been the perfect opportunity to discuss the birds and bees.”
“He was four years old, Kate.”
“What’s this all about, Jer?”
Beth winked at me while I waited for Jerry’s response.
“I just saw you in those red cowboy boots and thought maybe you were gettin’ your spark back, that’s all. Have a good day, ladies.”
“You, too,” I said as he walked away.
“You want to get a hot dog at lunch?”