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“Loren Marc Palmer. Creative Writing. Supervisor, Gregor Polk.”
Desdemona’s heart set off at the pace of a racing greyhound as Loren stepped onto the right of the screen, handed his hood to Francis, who opened it and handed it to the dean to place around Loren’s neck before he turned and posed for a photo.
Melissa leaned forward to pause the live stream capturing Loren as he smiled.
“Okay, maybe it was him,” she drawled.
“Perhaps,” Desdemona said softly.
Loren was as tall and handsome as ever, of course. And her reaction to him had not lessened. She blinked and took a breath at a heated memory, but also accepted the ache in her soul from missing his wisdom, fun nature, and hopeful attitude. He was the impetus for her change.
“Oh, wow, you love him,” Melissa stressed. “It’s all over your face.”
Desdemona nodded, not willing to deny it.
“Poor Trevor,” she added.
Desdemona cut her eyes at her. “Right,” she agreed begrudgingly as she leaned forward to take the live feed off pause. The screen went black for a moment and reappeared with Loren already gone.
“Does he love you, too?”
“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that myself sometimes, but it’s all good,” she said, rising to collect their glasses and carry them into the kitchen to place in the sink.
Desdemona ran her stiletto fingernails through her curls.
“You good?” Melissa called from the living room.
When will the love fade? There was no future for them, and her brain was ready to move on. It was her heart that held on to him.
Desdemona moved back into the living area. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “Thanks.”
Melissa rose, smoothing her hands over the crisp and stylish red blouse and slacks she wore. “I’m headed to work,” she said, walking to the front door in her matching patent leather heels. “What am I going to do when you’re on super-vacation?”
“I don’t leave for weeks,” she reminded her, coming over to the foyer as well.
“Too soon,” Melissa quipped.
“Eh. A little.”
She held up both hands. “Off to work to stare at my assistant’s butt and pretend not to do so,” she said before taking a bow and leaving.
Desdemona closed the door and leaned back against it. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. She was done. Mademoiselle was preparing to take her final bow, and the thought of that made her smile.
No fear. No doubts. Just a sweet relief and joy for moving on.
When she gave herself time to live Monday through Thursday, she began to enjoy life more. She partied a little. Traveled. Enjoyed hanging with Melissa and dating Trevor. Took up hobbies. Enjoyed not being tied to that business phone. And the more she reclaimed of her life, the more she wanted. A door inside her had been opened, and she decided once and for all to blow it off for good.
There had been some pushback from her regulars, but the more they refused to let her be, the more she realized that she had created these foolish expectations they had of her. She had set the boundaries far too late. She stayed in the game far too long.
Desdemona wasn’t letting the balls drop, but she couldn’t wait to safely and carefully set them aside.
“It’s time,” she said, moving to the living space and cleaning up from the breakfast of fresh fruit and pastries she had ordered for them to enjoy as they watched the convocation. “Going out on top and in my own way.”
She had passed her GED and was looking forward to applying to college next year—once she decided on a major and took an extended vacation to see the world. Africa. Italy. Paris.
First things first.
Desdemona retrieved her business phone and sat on the sofa with her feet tucked beneath her. She dialed Number One and clicked her nails against each other as she awaited an answer.
