Anonymous

It was spring. It was the time of year when a bit of desperate snow clung to hard earth but buds on trees remained resilient and the smell of new life was in the thawing air. My students clapped their hands each time they spied a robin and gaggles of children toting luggage style backpacks walked home gleefully after school, noisy as the approaching Canadian geese migrating back from the South.

 

Jaylynn was more in love than ever and so was I. Only things had changed.

 

Her anonymous buyer turned out to be a French millionaire. He was actually half-French, half-Italian. After her date with Dominick Mancini, we googled him only to find half a dozen financial articles about his prowess in the European tourism industry. He hadn’t told her about his celebrity status in Paris or his work. They spoke of their childhoods, hers on 8mile in a Detroit neighborhood, his as young boy growing up in a small Italian town and working on his father’s property.

 

“I can’t believe it, Em,” she told me recently, “he’s so down to earth, unlike anyone I have ever dated. I mean, don’t get me wrong, girl, we definitely travel in style. Even in the limo,  he opens doors, though the driver is ready to.  Every date, he brings me a single flower, wrapped with a paintbrush. They are always different. I must have hundreds of new brushes.”

 

“Hey, I ain’t mad at you girl.” I laugh, peeling the plastic back on the individually-wrapped chicken I am getting ready to cook. I shift the phone to my other shoulder as I wash my hands.

 

“And now that we’ve been dating for 3 months, I finally asked him something I had been curious about. I said, ‘Why did you want to purchase a collection that is centrally about another man?’ He was so calm and explained that when he spoke with the gallery about the theme of the show, dedication, he asked a lot of questions and quickly realized that this was a love lost.”

 

“What? He was checking for you before he even ever saw you?”

 

“I guess. Anyway, we were at a candlelit dinner and he moved his chair over next to mine and took me by the hand. He looked directly in my eyes and Em, I am not making this up. He said to me, ‘Jaylynn, I would buy up all of your lost loves if it means I might have a chance of finding love with you.’”

 

I pulled the phone out and looked at it like it did something wrong.

 

“Em? Are you there?”

“Yeah girl. I am here. But where are you? It sounds like you, my friend, are in a freaking fairy tale.”

 

We both laughed for a few seconds.

 

“Oh honey, I am so happy for you. You absolutely deserve to be loved like this. And if he messes it up, I’ll kick his ass! Ok, I’m playing, you know he probably has security.”

 

“Uh, he does, girl. But I love you for saying it.”

 

My mind wandered back to the sad position of the man who showed up to his own show, the funeral of his own love affair, who helped me sit down and wore a jade ring. I felt sympathy for him, as I did sometimes.

 

“So Jay, how’s your texting drama?” (It was a phrase we often used for the level and intensity of communication that streamed through text messaging from ex-boyfriends)

 

“Oh that.”

“Yeah, that! What’s up with that? Does he know?”

Within the past year, Jay had gotten serious and exclusive with a man she cared for desperately and he had flipped out, trying to sabotage her dates and telling her that he was now ready to leave his girlfriend for her, if only she would stop dating her boyfriend.

 

“Well, yes, he knows I am less available. I mean, I will always be a friend but now he sees I am so much more distant. It’s not that I am avoiding him but Dom has my free time now so I literally don’t want to make plans with another human being. . . . except you girl.”

 

“yeah, yeah, I get it. Making love to a European millionaire trumps girls nights. I’m sure he will get the picture eventually. I mean, being out and about with Jacques, you might even run into him.”

 

“Em, I did! He saw us at a small club. He was there with his fiancé and I walked in with Dominick. We acknowledged each other but we didn’t make introductions or anything. Dom and I went ahead to VIP and chilled. Then I went to the bathroom and he followed me. When I came out of the stall, he was right outside the door. He rushed me back in, kissing me and picking me up.”

 

“Holy adult film!”

 

“Yeah but it wasn’t sexy. I really feel like I have something with Dominick. He is not just some blind date. It made me feel cheap and I told him no way. I pushed him and stormed out. Em, maybe 6 months ago, that would have sent me over the moon. I would have remembered it in detail every time I laid down. But I realized, I am so OVER him. Dominick has shown me a reflection of myself in every way and he is a companion, a friend, a lover-“

 

“Whoa,” I interject. “Are we going there again?”

 

“No, girl, I am just saying that Dom loves me and he shows me by making space in his life for me. Ever since I rejected you-know-who in that bathroom and left him there, he has been randomly showing up at the gym or the gallery, trying to get me to ‘talk’ about it. I feel like a broken record but I just keep telling him it is over and I am with someone else. I don’t even want to like, waste my time explaining the part about being done. I just want to focus on work, and me, my girls, and keep bringing positive energy to my life.”

 ”Holla! And don’t forget the energy you know you bringin to that fine-ass Italian!”

“Yeah, can’t leave that out. But you know I got your back, you are my girl for life.”

“I am so proud of you Jay. You will always have love for him but you are choosing yourself now and it is just icing on the cake that Jacques can give you a lifestyle you deserve. Because the best part about Jacques is the way he loves you.”

 

“I know. What’s been up with you, girl? How’s it going in your lovelife?”

“I cannot talk to you about that right now, babygirl. I got chicken in the oven and I am working on this macaroni and cheese.  You know my baby’s on his way. Let me hollar at you later, k?”

 

“Ok, Miss Patti LaBelle! Bye girl.”

 

“Bye,” I giggle and hang up the phone. With the stereo remote, I play the paused playlist and light some candles. Table’s set, wine aired out, I think everything’s ready. Just then my phone buzzes. With a half a mind it’s Jay again, I check the text.

 

“On my way, babe,” it reads.

 

It’s him. My man is almost here.