An Unconventional love

         I could have walked away. I know this now. I could have told myself that whatever feelings there were, they were wrong and to just keep on going. My life would have kept traveling on the path that I had planned, mapped out even. But I didn’t. There I was 30 years old, happily married for five years and I found myself desperately in love with another woman.
         How could this have happened? One may ask. How could someone who had been completely hetero her whole life, find herself in such a predicament? Can’t really say for sure. I just know that the moment I met Arianna my whole life changed. She was like a breath of fresh air after being underground for a lifetime. I say I could have walked away…maybe the better term is should have…my heart never would have let me.

*********

         It was late autumn 2006 when I first met her. Though you never would have been able to tell in sunny California. It was the kind of day where you had to look at the calendar to remind yourself that it was the week before thanksgiving. I had arrived that day in Long Beach for a week-long legal professional conference, and decided to skip out on the last “class” of the day (Litigation Skills for Legal Professionals part III). I had attended this seminar last year and was told it hadn’t changed so I went for a drive. Around 3pm I found myself on the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) without even realizing it. I had been playing with the stereo and found a great adult contemporary station on the XM radio and was singing along to Wilson Phillips. I had rented a car for this trip, not because I needed to (I didn’t live that far away, just a couple hours) but because it was a business trip and everything was on the boss’s dime. I was relishing the vanity of my choice, a blue Mustang convertible, and had let the top down so I could feel the cool ocean breeze. It was a warm 75 degrees and I could taste the salt in the air when I breathed in. The sun was glistening off the water to my right and the sound of waves crashing drowned out the radio. I was in heaven.

The freedom I felt that day was exhilarating, I felt like a teenager skipping out on the last class of the day and going joy riding with my girlfriends.  I remember the sign: Sunset Beach 5 miles Huntington Beach 11 miles. I read it and realized I was going south. I had officially passed my own perimeter of knowledge. I had never been farther than Long Beach before and the realization brought an even bigger wave of excitement. Shortly after the little green highway sign I saw a great big sign (later I would call it the sign of fate) Barnes and Noble/ Starbucks just ahead. Very suddenly I was craving a Grande Frappe with extra whipped cream.

         I was still wearing my black power suit from the day’s events and had taken off the jacket due to the warmth. I was wearing a skimpy purple silk cami underneath and the feel of the ocean breeze against the material made my pulse quicken. My hair had been pulled back into a French twist and I let it down so I could feel the wind through it. I glanced at myself in the rear view, and even though I felt old as the hills, the reflection staring back at me was not bad to look at at all. My hair was just below my shoulders then, light brown with natural blonde highlights throughout. My hazel eyes looked amazing with my newly acquired tan (God love whoever created fake and bake). I was very slender, my husband called it the workaholic diet. Stress out whatever you take in!

         
         I pulled into a fairly new looking shopping center and parked between two nearly identical, newer style, black VW bugs. The tables, benches, and sidewalk outside the Starbucks were littered with young college kids with open books splayed out before them, studying for their finals no doubt. I made my way through them almost knocking over numerous cups while still trying to keep my balance. Amid all the teenagers and young twenty-something’s I began to feel old and out of place. I hurried into the shop before I could draw attention to myself. Inside was almost as crowded as out but the line was almost non-existent and I was able to order my Frappe and a cranberry scone and head back out the door within 5 minutes.
         I surveyed the area and decided to head back to my car when I was suddenly grabbed by the arm. “Oh thank God another adult! Please come sit with me I have been surrounded by these…these zombie-like creatures all day. I think they were once teenagers but who knows now. I think all the caffeine has morphed them!” A laugh rang out from the person speaking behind me and it was the sweetest thing I ever heard. I turned to politely ask for my arm back and found myself face to face with the most beautiful woman I had ever met. She stood eye to eye with my 5’7” height, and had long wavy brown hair that ended just below her breast-line. The white peasant top she wore, untied at the top so you could just barely make out the beginning outline of a chest tattoo, enhanced her olive skin tone. She had on tight jeans and high-heeled boots, ok so maybe she was about 5’5”. Her golden brown almond shaped eyes bore into mine, her full lips (slightly pouty) were turned up on one side, smirking. “I’m sorry, do you mind?” I asked slightly pulling my arm back.
         “Oh God. I am so sorry. I must have really scared you just grabbing you like that. It’s just...You are just the first person out of their teens that I have seen all day. It has been driving me Ca-Ray-Zee!” Her arms flailed this way and that when she spoke  (a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite put my finger on) and I couldn’t help but smile. “So it’s that obvious I am old huh?” I asked. I had just had my 30th birthday and was still a little down about it. “Wha? Old? I did not say that. Don’t be so sensitive girl. You are far too pretty to look so down. I am Arianna Russo.” She stuck out her hand to shake and realized my hands were full, so she shook my arm instead. “Oh, I’m Marie. Marie Clark.” So will you please save me from the zombie-children and come sit with me a while Marie? Unless you have somewhere to be?” I told her I didn’t and she led me towards the side of the building, which I had not seen from my parking spot. There were about fifteen more tables, all full of “zombie-children” save for one. It was littered with empty cups and magazines and what looked like a brand new Mac laptop.
          “Welcome to my office.” She said sarcastically as we sat down. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked without really knowing what question would come next. “By all means. The least I can do is answer a few questions since I accosted you outside of a Starbucks.” She laughed again and it sent chills down my spine. “What is it you do that has you sitting outside of a coffee shop all day with nothing more than a few sea gulls and an over abundance of college kids as your companions?” Her golden eyes lit up as she smiled. “ Well I don’t normally sit outside Starbucks all day, but my editor wanted me to do a piece on a design school a few miles back down the PCH and the school was practically devoid of students when I arrived. The gate guard told me that a lot of the kids would be here. So I spoke with as many of the faculty that I could find and took my tour and drove straight here after. Been here since nine this morning. Sad thing is, most of these zombies have been here since midnight. Some even before that.” She leaned in closer to me as she said the last part almost whispering, like we were sharing some kind of intimate secret. I caught a faint whiff of her perfume when she did that, Princess, by Vera Wang.  “Oh well that only answered part of your question now didn’t it? I write for an up and coming Fashion magazine “Ready to Wear”. We are doing a whole issue on design schools and the future of the industry and what not. Frankly I am not sure the industry is ready for zombie-wear but what do I know. HA!” She began laughing again. This time I joined her.

         

We had sat at the table outside the coffee shop for almost two hours. By the time we finished the sun was setting over the horizon. She told me about her job and asked me what I did. She asked about my husband, (she had seen the ring) how did we meet and what was it like being with the same person for so long? I told her how I met Kevin freshman year of college. We had both attended Cal State Berkeley and had been together since. We married after obtaining our Bachelors and were planning on children but had had no luck yet. I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to her. She was very open and it seemed to rub off somehow. I was never big on talking about myself but there I was, telling her practically my whole life story. She told me she was from Italy originally but that her parents moved to the states when she was still in grade school. Her father had owned a little restaurant in Jersey and as soon as she was old enough she left for the west coast to attend college. She said it was incredible the way she was accepted in the west and that she felt like she was home after her first week at UCLA.
         “Why weren’t you accepted in Jersey?” I had asked very much confused. I couldn’t imagine her having trouble being accepted anywhere; she had this kind of glow about her. “Well, the town I grew up in was tolerant of homosexuals. But the general consensus was that they belonged in New York where “their kind” would blend in better. When I came out to my parents in high school, it was like I had confessed to being a serial killer. My parents eventually got over it but the people I knew for so much of my life could not. So I applied to UCLA junior year (I had been on the fast track so I could graduate a year early) and booked my flight the night I got my acceptance letter. I have visited since but home is here to me now.” She surveyed my face and must have seen the slight look of surprise. ‘Oh crap I did it again. Sorry, I keep telling myself when I meet someone new I should start with ‘Hi, I’m Arianna. I’m a lesbian. Pleased to meet ya.’ But I always find myself getting lost in the other details.” She laughed hesitantly waiting for my reply. All I could muster was, “Oh.” A shadow of disappointment crossed her face for a brief second then she said, “Well, I don’t know about you but I am starving. One cannot live off cranberry scones alone! Do you wanna go grab dinner? Or are you meeting your husband?”
         I explained to her how I was in Long Beach on business for the week and my husband was likewise engaged. But I was starving. Beside the scone I had only eaten a bagel that morning. I didn’t know the area much so when she offered to drive I politely accepted. I put the top up on my rental and locked it up tight. She jumped into the VW to the right and told me to hurry before the zombies came to life and started craving brains. Her laughter was contagious and before I knew it we were both laughing hysterically driving south on the PCH, even further out of my perimeter of knowledge.
          She took me to a restaurant on the beach in Huntington, Duke’s. She was apparently a frequenter because even thought there was a line to be seated the hostess escorted us right in to a window-front table that overlooked the beach, It was twilight now and the moon shone brightly on the crashing waves. “I am a huge fan of their hula pie and an awfully big tipper.” She explained as we were seated. “The staff really like me here and they tend to keep my favorite table open for about an hour during the dinner rush, just in case,” She winked at the hostess who smiled shyly and walked away. I had a feeling the staff really did like her but doubted that it had anything to do with the size of her gratuity. The restaurant was really nice, a Hawaiian theme right down to the wicker chairs we were sitting in. It was no wonder she came there a lot, the view was to die for and the ambience was soothing.

         I remember a lot about that first evening. The way she looked, the energy that seemed to radiate from her when she smiled. How she seemed entirely engrossed in our conversation, even when admirers sitting at the bar sent drinks. She never took her eyes off mine, just told the waitress to thank the kind gentlemen and ushered me on with a slight wave of her hand. We ate, we drank, and we laughed like schoolgirls. It was like being with a childhood friend that you had spent years apart from, it didn’t feel like I had just met her that afternoon.
*****

         Lying in bed a year or so after, she would tell me it was all she could do to not just kiss me then and there. She had spied me going into the Starbucks and couldn’t let me get away without at least getting to know me. She told me how her heart sank when she saw the ring on my finger but after our initial conversation she had convinced herself that a friendship would be better than not knowing me at all. That night by the end of dinner she knew she would fall in love with me. She told me her wasted heart would have loved me forever.
*****

         We spent the rest of the week hanging out like college kids. I would take off after the last meeting of the day and she would pick me up and take me to the mall, the beach, and the movies; wherever. We ate like kids too. One day we grabbed a pizza across the street from the school she was writing on. It was literally a hole in the wall but it was only $6 for a large one topping pizza. We sat outside the small door that was the counter on plastic patio furniture eating pepperoni pizza and drinking Faygo soda from the store next to it. We talked about nothing and everything for about 2 hours. We were interrupted about a dozen times by young girls and boys alike saying hi to her and asking how the story was coming. She had quickly gained popularity within the small school and I was sure a lot of the student populous had developed crushes as well.
         By the end of the week we had promises from each other to call every day and get together for dinner at least once a week. My husband and I owned a home in Valencia.
She lived near Long Beach in Lakewood. When we said goodbye I felt like I was leaving my best friend. I guess, as fast as it was, that’s exactly what she had become.

*********

         Going home was like waking up from a dream. Life as usual kept on going and I found myself struggling to catch up. My firm had picked up three new cases in the week that I was gone and we only had three paralegals on staff (two with my absence) juggling the casework of seven.  Kevin was scheduled to be out of town for three more weeks. He worked for a consulting firm in the linguistics department and, with so many military contracts being ushered out to civilian firms, his company would demand a lot of him that year. He had already been to Iraq, Kuwait, Afghanistan and the latest trip had him in D.C. I was not quite sure at that point in time what his company really did, and I never asked either. We had our separate professional lives (his far more lively than my own), and then we had our home life. We decided shortly after our marriage that we would never intermingle the two. It worked for us. At least I thought it did at the time.
         I had spoken to him only twice the week I had met Arianna. “I’m glad you made a friend sweetie. You so rarely have time for that anymore.” Was his only response during our first 10-minute conversation. “You sound like you are having a great time”, During our second. I could not fault him for whatever disinterest he showed. He was, after all, a very busy man.
         Thanksgiving came and went in a flurry. It was the first year I had ever skipped dinner at my parent’s house in Bakersfield. They understood of course, but I got a ten minute lecture on how I was working myself too hard nonetheless. My workload was so heavy in fact that I had also forgotten about the promise of dinner that Saturday evening with Arianna and was quite relieved when she called Friday to cancel. “My damn editor just dropped a load on my desk. Ugh! I am flying out to NYC tomorrow to do a follow up. Can we reschedule for next week? My treat, ok?” The disappointment in her voice made me feel even worse for my relief. “No problem lady. I am kinda swamped myself.” I reassured her.

         After about three more cancellations, one on my part, we finally did get together for dinner. (At least we had kept the daily phone call promise, though very few lasted more than ten minutes. It was a busy time for us all.)  Kevin had just gotten back from his trip so we decided on a home cooked meal as opposed to going out. Arianna drove up and spent the night in our guest room. Dinner went great. We sat down at the table shortly after her arrival and it did not escape my notice that Kevin seemed very into dinner conversation that night. I didn’t blame him though. She just had that air about her. By the end of the first course we were all chatting away like old friends.
          Still tired from his trip, my husband went to bed early. “Don’t you two stay up all night giggling like that. You sound like a couple of pre-teens at their first R rated movie.” He whispered into my ear after planting a kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight love. Goodnight Arianna. It was a sincere pleasure to meet you. I am glad Marie has found a friend in you. You seem to do her good. She hasn’t laughed that much since college.” He gave us both a quick wink and climbed the stairs to our bedroom.
         The fact that we did stay up all night giggling did not surprise me one bit. We finished two bottles of wine and had looked through all my high school yearbooks and photo albums. I found myself telling her stories I thought I had long forgotten, some sad, but most just very embarrassing and hysterical. She listened to all I had to say intently smiling through the silly parts, rubbing my hand through the sad, and trying like hell not to laugh through the embarrassing. We both failed on the latter and we ended up with extremely weak voices the next day. By noon Aria was back in her beetle and headed home. She had a Monday morning deadline and hadn’t begun her story yet. She said procrastination was her ace in the hole, she always did things last minute because that was when she was at her keenest. I envied her that.