A romance told in Black and White
Maybe it was from all the stress that she felt lately. She had been back and forth from St. Louis for eight straight weeks with only a Saturday and Sunday's worth of rest in between. It could have been the burden of having to roll out a new advertising campaign for one of Broad & Heish's top clients; an opportunity that she graciously welcomed but had exponentially underestimated.
Or maybe it was the fact that she had a first class seat on the emotional roller coaster of going with one of her dearest friends to an abortion clinic. She and Arissa had been with Vonda from the initial testing to the sickness afterwards. And through the entire process, it was as if she was having an outer body experience; she may as well have been the one on that cold, hard table having someone hold her hand. That was the most draining episodes she had ever bared witness to, and she prayed she would never have to go through it again, secondhand or otherwise.
Whatever it was, fate had decided that she could handle just a little bit more of it. He was obviously someone who didn't know her very well, someone who had just eavesdropped on one of the conversations the other fictional apparitions were having about her. That is, if she believed in fate, which she didn't. So at the moment, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, hoping that what she just heard wasn't true.
"Kei?" Her mother had been calling her name for a few minutes now. After she had broken the news to her, she remained silent, allowing her only daughter time to absorb it all. Now all she heard on the other end of the phone was the steady increase of her breathing, a sure sign of the tears that would soon follow, and the light roar of the moving train in the background. "Kei, you're gonna be alright."
Kerri was standing in one of the six cars on the metro when her mother had called. Despite all the drama she had been through in the past weeks, today she was feeling slightly relieved. She had actually gotten to the office before nine, which was a miracle in its own right, and work had been light since she considered herself to be ahead of schedule with finishing the Whitman campaign. Lunch with her two friends had been entertaining to say the least, and while out, she even managed to meet, talk to, and snag the number of a somewhat attractive gentleman by the name of Jamal.
However, all of the day's pleasantries seemed to fade into nothingness. Kerri had slumped down in one of the vacant seats, her belongings sprawled out and abandoned at her feet, her head in her left hand as she tried to get a grip on her emotions while the right still held the phone tightly to her ear. Her body was starting to tremble because it had been too much. The car seemed too small, the people seemed too close, and whatever bit of oxygen left inside seemed thin and unable to reach her lungs.
She was going to have a nervous breakdown right there in front of the professional men and women of DC. Complete strangers. Immediately, she wished she had driven to work that day. At least then she could've pulled over to the side of the road and cried until she was calmer. All she could do right now was try to keep it all in until the train stopped and let her off at her final destination.
Kerri looked around briefly to see if anyone had been watching her. She wasn't too worried about that though, because most of these people had the New Yorker's attitude, and their world didn't exist outside the two-foot barrier they put up.
The whistling wind of the train moving back underground as it headed into its next station caught her attention, so she cleared her throat to finally speak after what seemed like ages.
"I'm going in a tunnel, mom. You'll be cut off." She wondered if her voice sounded as small to her mother as it did to her.
"Okay, sweetheart. You just call me when you get home. I lo-,"
Sean had passed away. That night, he had been leaving the local bar in her hometown and had fallen asleep at the wheel resulting in a head on collision with a commercial truck. Her mother said he died instantly and felt no pain. All that was left now were the few details of his closed casket funeral and the dull ache in her heart.
For the last twenty minutes of the trip she allowed herself to put on a glacial mask, void of all human emotion. She didn't think about anything, just sat and stared at nothing out of the glass window her heavy head rested upon. It wasn't until she had exited the train and gone through the gates towards the parking lot that her mind began to whirl and the first tear fell.
She thought about what her mother had told her about him dying instantly. How did anyone know that? There wasn't anyone there with him. And how did they know if he was in pain or not? She couldn't recall any reports about the actual feeling of death. What if there was a massive, indescribable pain right before you died? What if he didn't die instantly? Maybe he had been alive just a few moments before the emergency vehicles got there. And how long did it take for someone to even notice the accident before calling 9-1-1 since it was so late at night? He could've been out there for hours, screaming for someone to help him for all she knew. It was a dark and gruesome image that made her stomach cringe.
He was only 27, a year older than she, and young people weren't supposed to die. What if he was the love of her life and she just didn't know it yet? They had been close during high school; most people thought they were a couple since they seemed to be joined at the hip. Walking back to her car, she recalled their first kiss, the one awkward time they almost had sex, and she remembered the phone call she received from him about a month ago asking to see her. Maybe he finally wanted them to get together and just couldn't say it over the phone.
She knew she loved him or did love him, but she also knew she had never been in love with him. After high school, they were on two totally different paths. Hers was collegiate bound, a life to be guided by her studies, headed towards grad school and corporate America. Sean had just decided to go to junior college the year before. But that shouldn't matter. What was she, a snob now? Her best friend in the world just died and all she could think about was how it affected her.
Somehow through the silent tears and blurry vision, Kerri made it to her car, although she couldn't recall spotting it out or heading in that direction. It took her a few minutes to locate her keys in the bottom of her purse, and she thanked God for the fact that she had even bothered to pick up her belongings off the subway floor. But when she held out the remote to deactivate the car alarm, nothing happened. She hit it a couple of times and tried again, aimed it at the hood and pressed the button down as hard as she could while her temper slowly began to rise. She had just purchased this damn replacement remote after having broken the original.
She took a step back and looked at the automobile in front of her and then inside. This wasn't her car. It was the same make and model, same color, but those weren't her things in the seats. And her interior was made of charcoal leather, not this tacky gray fabric. Where was her car? She couldn't remember where she parked that day and there were still over a hundred cars in the lot. She didn't have the strength to go up and down the rows looking for it. Not now, not today. So, she just turned around, leaned against the one that was closest to her and broke down.
At that moment she couldn't have stopped crying if she wanted to. She was vaguely aware of the people walking past her, going to their correct vehicles but caring less. It all had to come out and her body was releasing the stress right there at five forty-five in the middle of Anaheim Metro Station parking lot. It was as if the world had turned against her, and she had suddenly grown weary of the world.
"Are you alright?"
Kerri didn't raise her head in the direction the voice was coming from, but even in her distressed state she could tell he was making an effort at being sincere. She might have even responded if she hadn't been so upset, so frustrated, and now so angry by such an asinine question. Of course she wasn't alright. She was a young black woman in a business suit, leaning against a car that may or may not be hers, crying like a banshee in the middle of the day. Her eyes were red and puffy, she was positive that her nose was dripping, and for the life of her she couldn't stop trembling.
She just shook her head no.
"Um...are you unable to get into your car?"
What?
She tried calming herself and wiped away some of her tears with the back of her hand. The stranger handed her a handkerchief, and she thought she thanked him, although in her current state it probably came out like gibberish.
"This isn't my car." She said that as clearly as she could, standing up straight, realizing that she probably just ticked someone off by nearly plastering herself all over their vehicle. Kerri looked at the car, then at him. "I'm sorry, is this yours?"
"No," he responded, tapping the black Range Rover it was parked next to.
"Oh," she sighed, leaning back against the one thing that provided her some support at the moment, a car that didn't belong to her.
"Did someone steal your car? Do you need me to call the police?"
"Yes. No! I mean, no. No, my car's not stolen; at least I don't think so." She handed him back his handkerchief, feeling a little bit better after getting the need to cry out of her system. "I don't...I can't remember where I parked."
Immediately, he sighed in relief, the tense and serious pained expression of his features melting away into what she assumed to be his usual calm and charming demeanor. "Is that all," he queried, his lips forming a half, lopsided smile, almost letting out a little chuckle at her answer.
She just looked at him then, her face portraying each of her own emotions as they transitioned from hurt to bewilderment and then to anger. "No, I..." At first she was going to try to explain; she wasn't lost, she had just lost someone very dear to her. But she realized that it was none of his damn business, and there was certainly nothing humorous about it.
"I have to go." Quickly, she reached down and snatched up her purse and laptop bag, not even bothering to look at him as she walked past.
Damn him
, she thought.
Damn him to...
Her last damnation was halted by a strong hand grabbing her wrist, thwarting her wishes to flee the scene of her humiliation. She paused without glancing back, her body still posed in flight mode, a moment frozen in time. Inwardly, she was in turmoil – just wanting to go home so she could cry like she wanted.
"I'm sorry," he offered, his voice low, soft and comforting, mixed with a little sadness reflecting his true sentiment. "I didn't mean to offend you. You're out here crying like - I just...I thought someone had hurt you."
Why did he have to say that? She wished he had said anything but that. It's bizarre how words of comfort could make her feel more mournful than she already was. Mockery, she could've handled, she would have just told him where to shove it and stalked away. But kindness...a stranger's kindness and compassion left her with no words, only tears that she tried desperately to hold back.
She turned towards him then, slowly, unable to actually look at his face. Her wrist was still caught in his unrelenting grasp and he sighed, pulling her into him for a much needed embrace.
What in the hell was she doing? She didn't want to be out here, standing in a metro station parking lot; she just wanted to go home. She needed to be in the privacy of her own condo were prying eyes wouldn't be able to bear witness to one of her most embarrassing moments. Where no one could see her acting like a five year old who had just been told that Santa Claus didn't really exist. It was strange, but her mind actually went back to that moment, recalling it vividly, the desperation of that heartbreaking experience making her cry all the more. She just wanted to stop.
