Reaching Hearts
Redheads and Red Bags
My voyage into something and someone I never knew I could be.
“Dear God, she prayed, let me be something every minute of every hour of my life” Betty Smith
I think it was the first time I realised attraction wasn’t linear.
It was a wet cape town day, we were there for work — a client, Jeks, and I. Our day was spent in a brainstorming boardroom although I was distracted — I found being away from all clients for one client worrying in, I would learn!
A break in our day saw me join a lunch that was pre-determined — it wasn’t far from the boardroom and I was relieved to be outside in the cool drizzly day as we made our way across the road. The restaurant was glass fronted with high — ceilings, I’m aesthetically driven so I always notice these things!
Unusually I sat with my back to the restaurant — usually, I like to see what’s going on but for some reason, I went against my grain! I felt disassociated from the other people at the table and I sat at the end busying myself scratching in my big red bag and I was happy to be left to it.
She walked in behind me, sat down, and rearranged the table so we could be opposite one another. I remember it all playing out in front of me. I’m not even sure we’d spoken but I know our eyes had met — a long stare, a small smile. I’m sure she spoke more than I did / it’s usually that way. We talked about horses and dogs and music and how much we had in common — the conversation flowed and I felt like a spotlight had just been placed above me. She looked at me in a way I’d never seen before, or rather that I’d not be seen in before. She had my card marked and I liked it.
Lunch wrapped up and we went our separate ways, I really don’t remember the details, just her. When it came time to leave their office and make our way back to JHB, the clouds had lifted and their high-ceilinged glass office offered up the mountain view, cloudless now. The passageway out passed her office and I saw she was at her desk and on the phone, I didn’t make a massive effort to catch her eye although as I left I knew she’d waved too — her eyes sunk into the back of me — there would be many of those looks and that would become to feel usual too.
A month later she invited me to her birthday party in September- a big house on the rocks of Clifton, a magnificent view over the cold Atlantic; music and people and way too cool for me. I sent a gift, she sent a photo of thanks. And photos of the party and photos, so many photos. I didn’t regret not going, I still had this at arm’s length.
Month by month her trips to JHB increased; Jeks and I were closing up our house, moving to a rental as work on the ‘band-aid baby’ house began — it was busy, her life, mine, it was exciting that’s for sure.
My friend and I met often — always with Jeks — but to be honest, the people around us often felt superfluous, so I basked in her unadulterated attention. We joked about our monthly hangouts as dates and we numbered them; we spoke of our endless conversation which it certainly was. Her nickname was one I never much liked — it felt forced and not me but she loved it so who was I to argue that — we ‘named’ the spare room in the band-aid baby after her!
She was fiery for sure and for the first time in years, I felt possessed — by her, by life, by energy and fun, and a thousand things in between.
When I met my friend she was single. I wasn’t. I guess there was a line in my mind. Her lines were more fluid.
Her JHB trips — as I said — became more frequent, years later she told me that she fabricated reasons to be here (I liked that too) and a long weekend to Cape Town saw me leave a day ahead so we could hang out…. The lines became looser.
The first time we kissed was deep into the unraveling of my relationship- she was the first woman I ever kissed. She was my Mary Porter. She was my brave. She was my joy, my dancing in the kitchen, my voyage into something and someone I never knew I could be, even wanted to be.
Of course, she broke my heart.
