Love Lost

I called Rayna on Friday when she returned from her trip. She eventually told me she had a conference that she needed to attend in San Francisco. I was impressed; she was really committed to her profession. I asked her for her address so that I could pick her up and she told me to pick her up at a gas station near where she lived. I was a little turned off by that. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me to come to her house. I shook it off and did it anyway. When I picked her up all of those feelings were thrown to the back of my mind when I saw her. She wore jeans that looked like they were painted on, a simple white T-shirt, a fitted blazer and a silk scarf that she tied at her neck and heels. This was a little more casual than I was used to seeing her around work. I pulled up to her by the convenient store at the station and unlocked the door.

When she got in, I asked, “Are you sure you want to wear those shoes? This tour includes a lot of walking.”

“I kind of figured that so I brought changing shoes in my bag.” Rayna raised the large tote bag she was carrying.

We went all over, starting out with brunch at the famous Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles where she was insistent on paying for as a pre-gesture of gratitude for the tour. She wasn’t taking no for an answer so I gave in. I was able to pull a few strings for her to tour the studio of her favorite soap opera, which was virtually unheard of; they didn’t allow tours. Next, we toured two major movie studios and went to Hollywood Blvd to visit the Kodak Theater and the walk of fame. We traveled over to the Santa Monica Pier and in the Beverly Hills residential area. We ended the tour on Rodeo Drive. She wanted to go into all the popular designer’s shops. I noticed while in Louis Vuitton she was beside herself. Rayna showed special attention to the luggage. Her eyes were lit and bounced with wonder.

I strolled up behind her and leaned down to murmur in her ear. “What are you thinking about?”

She seemed entranced when she said, “I have a best friend who’s the total opposite of me. She comes from wealth and I come from…humble beginnings. Ever since the day I met her she’s helped me out tremendously, so much that I don’t know how my life would’ve turned out without her. Now, I’ve never had a problem with our lifestyle contrast, or at least can’t recall any problems, except for the time when she gave me an old Louis Vuitton suitcase that was given to her by her grandmother who replaced it after having it for just a year. My girlfriend had it for longer but gave it to me, not with sentimental value, but because she was done with the suitcase and had replaced it, too. She’s the most generous and pure hearted person on this planet…the only one who gave me a chance but that day she handed me the suitcase…I felt inadequate. I told myself that day that I would one day have a whole Louis Vuitton set that was purchased just for me even if it took me until I was eighty. It would be my own.”

I didn’t utter a word, giving her time to complete her moment. She turned to me, snapping from her trance and even tried to offer a mirthless chuckle. I could tell it was eating at her.

“So why don’t you get it now? At least start with one piece.”

“Nah. I have a house to buy first. I’m not rich like you, Mr. Jacobs. I have priorities.” She smiled tightly. And even that was beautiful.

I decided not to push the issue. We had dinner at Mr. Chows on Camden, everything flowed so well that day and we were starving by the time we sat down to eat making the timing and restaurant pick perfect. What was even better than the food was our conversation. She opened up about being from Jersey and growing up in the projects. Rayna mentioned how going away to school saved her life and meeting Michelle changed it. She spoke very highly of Michelle. I remembered her from the proposal meeting and the club but I didn’t know they were so close. I could tell she really admired her. I didn’t know women praised each other that way. I mean, it’s not like Michelle was an older woman like a grandmother, godmother, or aunt. I noticed she didn’t talk about her parents much and I didn’t push.

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