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Since I drive fast and a bit reckless at times, I do my best to not think too much about her, but traffic always dies at some point. Now I have time to once again acknowledge the fact that I was wrong and wish that I had the chance to make it up to her. Just one chance to see her again and maybe I could make it right. Because I’m thinking that there was some other reason that Natasha ran away from me.
Maybe this is about Lloyd.
Maybe she and Lloyd were in a better place in their relationship and that’s why I lost her. Maybe he finally realized what a wonderful woman he has in Natasha and began to do all the things she wanted. You know, the things that we used to do together. But there is a part of me that just doesn’t believe that.
I don’t feel like I’m free to be myself with him, Natasha told me once.
So it was easy for me to convince myself that no other man could be all she needed.
When I get to work, I get the feeling that everybody is staring at me and laughing because they can see the look on my face. Like they know I had the one and I let her get away. My assistant handed me a marked-up version of the status report and that slaps me back to reality. I review her changes before I rush into a meeting with our investment team.
Later that morning, one of the Managing Directors requested a briefing book on the company we’re pitching, because he doesn’t know anything about it. Once he received it, he called Homer because he was the point person for this project and yells at him because it’s one hundred pages of material and since he doesn’t know anything about it—well you get the point. While other members of the team tell management about the buyers who are interested in them and the meetings they’ve set up, I’m vaguely listening because I was busy thinking how I hadn’t realize how much I needed her before. And I certainly didn’t realize when I looked in her eyes in that one second that the next day that I’d feel this hurt and feel like nothing mattered anymore.
I finish up the day with another meeting I’m not interested in. After speaking with our equity research analyst, the Managing Director decides we need to add more analysis to our pitch and focus on completely different metrics. That means that I need to re-do most of my work, but I don’t care and the reason is Natasha.
But tonight, I have a plan. Tonight I am going to see Island in the Sun at the Ritz Theatre. It’s a movie with James Mason, Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge. It’s about race relations and interracial relationships between Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge’s characters and the white people they become involved with. Not exactly my genre, but if there was any chance that Natasha would be there, I was all in.
I got to the theater early so I could get the seat that I wanted. I didn’t want to sit in the back, because it would be to dark and I didn’t want to sit down front or the middle because I didn’t want to miss her. I wanted to sit somewhere between the middle and the back, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I found the seat I wanted and made myself comfortable.
Shortly thereafter, the lights dimmed a little and the commercials started. I turned and looked around to see if maybe she came in and sat somewhere behind me, but she wasn’t there. When the lights dimmed again and the coming attractions began, I settled into my seat as well as the realization that she wasn’t coming.
That it was all just a dream.
“Is anybody sitting here?”
I looked up. “Natasha.”
My insides are screaming!
The man in the row behind us cleared his throat. “Have a seat,” I said and held my breath.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
Those words made the last three weeks seem almost worthwhile. Almost. I remained calm.
“To be honest with you, I really wasn’t interested in seeing this movie; I just came because I hoped you’d be here.”
Natasha smiled and laughed a little. “Me too. It’s really not my kind of movie either.”
“Truth is, I missed you, Natasha.”
She smiled. “I missed you, too.”
“I called you, I left messages for you, but you didn’t call back.”
“I know and I’m sorry for not getting back to you.”
I wanted to be mad at her, but I was too happy to see her to care. But I still had to ask, “Well, what happened to you?”
“What do you mean?” Natasha asked with an innocent look.
“One day we were—” I attempted a polite pause rather than saying, One day we were about to have sex. “—and the next day you disappear.”
“I didn’t exactly disappear. Not really. I was going through some things that I needed to deal with,” Natasha said and her eyes and her smile told me that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her.
The lights dimmed and the credits began to roll. “What was that? If you don’t mind me asking of course.”
“No, not at all. Lloyd and I broke up.”
