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I pop into my mini fridge for my power pack for lunch and my bottled water. As soon as I close my door to sit on my tiny office couch, I know I need to answer him. After a long slow sip of my drink, I open Instagram on my phone. I sit there and let my finger hover over the follow button for a minute before I decide to say yes.
I set my phone in my lap while I munch on my meat and cheese and stare at his profile. My work brain tells me all the things I would do differently with his profile. My Ava brain looks at his profile and sees memories. I press my finger to the screen and start to slowly scroll through his posts.
I can see him at home with his dog, Violet, from about six months ago. There is a sweet post about his mother on Mother’s Day. I can see the day he landed in the US three months ago. He’s got such a photographic eye. There are spots in his photos from the area where he was filming I even recognize.
A fireman raising the flag outside the station in the early hours of morning. Main Street with all the umbrellas up at the sidewalk cafés and our coffee shop. The one that makes me stop is the hedge of the home we watched him film at on one of our very last days. It’s the blossom I pulled out of there on my last walk by. His caption was one simple word… Bella.
Bella.
I’ve heard that word so many times. It’s never been in the same context nor will it ever be again. I think that word is what tips the scales for me.
I press the message button on his profile and a blank space opens up. I stare at the screen, wanting to type something, anything. I find that words are failing me. I can’t even string two words together.
Two words. They would be the hardest and the easiest to type. I have no idea if he’d ever see the message, let alone reply. Part of me wants an instant response. The other part of me is afraid he won’t say a word. I’m not settled with either option.
I quickly finish my lunch and head down the hall to take care of my personal needs and to get one last cup of coffee for the day before my self-imposed cutoff. I stop and talk to our group’s assistant on the way back. She wants to hear about my time off and tell me tales of her new kitten. I’m happy to hear about it all. I keep my story to a tailored presentation of the town, the weather, and the food.
I remember how uncomplicated I said it felt. I want it to stay that way. Maybe somewhere down the road, I can tell the whole story to someone other than Sylvia. I want it to be my secret. Our secret.
Once back inside my closed office, I have about ten minutes left before my next meeting and as I’m getting ready, I see Rafael’s face bubble up in a frame in the app I left open on my phone. Holy shit. He’s typing.
Rafael: Ciao, Bella.
Me: Hi there
Rafael: I hope you’re all right with me contacting you.
There’s that word again. Bella. Never have I desired so much to be called beautiful. I know it’s likely what he calls everyone. I don’t know. Somehow when he calls me that, it hits differently. Quickly, I craft a response that doesn’t seem too eager, but also one that shows him I’m really glad he did.
Me: It’s nice to hear from you. How did you find me?
I set my phone down to log in to join the meeting before everyone else. That’s who I am and like to be. I quickly crack all my knuckles to get rid of the tension I’ve built up since I chose to hit follow. It’s not long before I hear the subtle buzz on top of the legal pad I’m going to be taking notes on.
Rafael: As you know, the internet can be a wonderful place. Also, my mother has always told me, if you want to badly enough, there will always be a way.
Oh shit.
As I’m about to respond, the meeting participants seem to flow into frame like water over a dam. I don’t have the time I wish I had to say what comes into my head. The deeper we get into the agenda; I’m pulled to have part of my brain focused on the tasks and conversation at hand, and the other being what the hell am I going to say to Rafael?
Our meeting winds down and I disconnect from the video. I take a deep breath as I pick up my phone and begin typing without thinking.
Me: You wanted to find me? Why?
Nearly instantly, a response comes back.
Rafael: Bella, I enjoy your company. It’s rare that I get to just have a conversation without other expectations. I wondered if I’d see you before you left.
Me: I walked back past the house you used for filming. You’d finished at that location. I walked blocks that day, just soaking it all in before I left. Just so you know, you leave an impression.
Rafael: I hope that’s a good thing, Ava.
Me: It is. Are you still there?
Rafael: I am. We have a week to go. We have night shoots this evening. I should be sleeping.
Me: Why aren’t you then?
Rafael: I was too busy deciding on whether to send you a message or not. I have a confession to make.
