Now here comes the magic…
The hotel elevator doors opened and slightly slouched in the back corner, clutching a cell phone in each hand, was the most decadent piece of walking chocolate my eyes had beheld in quite some time…smartly dressed in perfectly fitting jeans, a snug charcoal grey sweater with leather elbow patches and coordinating scarf, and a neatly groomed salt and pepper beard…and smelling of the sexiest musky cologne. I gave him a polite smile and got on the elevator. Still rubbing lotion into my hands, I see him checking me in my peripheral. So I give him a half glance back as if to say, “Yeah, I see you too.” After a few seconds he speaks in a thick accent…”Greetings of the Season.” After a few clumsy, “I’m sorry’s?” from me, I was finally able to make out what he was saying. I recovered with a warm smiled, ever so slightly batted my eyes and replied, “Oh thank You. Same to you.”
My room was on the 23rd floor, so we had a little time to chat. And as busy as the hotel was, we managed to make it all the way down to the lobby without picking up any additional passengers. I really can’t remember much of what was said, except that we were both traveling alone. Once we exited the elevator, I was on my way out when he, clearly not ready to part, asked what I was getting ready to do. I told him that I was walking to the pharmacy. He asked if he could walk with me. I obliged him. Him. Within minutes, he felt like less of a stranger and more like an old friend. Cracking jokes and exchanging base information, we walked to Duane Reade. He grabbed a basket and held it as I shopped. When the attendant gave me the total, he reached into his pocket for his wallet. I immediately tried to discourage him from paying, but he insisted, going so far as to playfully slap my hand away from the card reader when I tried to pay. Very well, sir…very well. He carried my bags back up to the 23rd floor and waited for me by the elevators. I put the bags in my room, gave myself a once over in the mirror and we headed down to the lobby bar.
We must have talked for 4 or 5 hours. At some point during the conversation, he asked what I had planned for the next day. I told him that I would be shopping during the day and for the evening I had a ticket to the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater’s performance and a dinner reservation at Red Rooster in Harlem after the show. He asked if he could accompany me. Although the conversation and the company were great, I really wanted to leave it at that.
He was very vocal about his desire to see me again and to keep in contact, but I encouraged him to just focus on the moment. Certainly, I would have loved to continue to get to know him beyond New York, but it felt unwise, naïve even, to create any expectation of that actually happening.
I told him that I bought my ticket 4 or 5 weeks prior, so he probably wouldn’t be able to find a seat next to me at the theater. He asked me to check. Even though it was Christmas Day, it was New York City afterall, so I called the Box Office. To my surprise, the attendant told that there was an empty seat 2 seats down from mine and that the couple next to me would likely be open to moving down 1 seat so we could sit together. He said that he was willing to take that chance and proceeds to hand me his credit card so I could purchase his ticket.
The next day, we conveniently bumped into each other in the lobby. We talked for a bit, then decided to head out and do a bit of shopping. We almost burned holes in our shoes from all of the walking…hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm, 34th to 5th to Madison and everywhere in between, we walked and talked and shopped.
As his feet and back were deliriously paining him from our hours of walking in his fashionable, but not so comfortable shoes, we decided to head back to the hotel when I realized that I needed jewelry for the outfit I was wearing to the theater later that evening. I purposely didn’t bring anything because I wanted something new. He was absolutely spent, so I told him that he could head back to the hotel and I would find some jewelry, then head back. He didn’t think it was fair to leave me alone, so he hobbled along until I found a jewelry store on Madison Avenue. I quickly found a pretty necklace and asked him what he thought. He returned the question. He could tell that I wasn’t in love with it, so he told me to keep looking. There in the glass case was the most amazing statement necklace and I mumbled under my breath, “Gosh, this is gorgeous.” So he asked the attendant to pull it out. Of course, she brought out the earrings and bracelet too and sealed the deal when she made me try it all on. I loved it! And you know what happened next, right? Yep, he bought all 3 pieces!
Carrying all of our bags, giving money to the homeless lady and her 2 crying kids, hurting feet and back, protecting me from traffic, he grabbed a taxi and back to the hotel we went. Time to get ready for Alvin Ailey! The show was very different from anything I’ve ever experienced from the Ailey dancers but was um, interesting. The only thing that would have made my evening at the Red Rooster any better was if Chef Samuelson had made a cameo, or if I were there just a few days earlier when former President Bill Clinton and Mayor de Blasio were dining together. We were both scheduled to leave the next evening. Persistent in communicating his desire to keep in touch, we agreed to meet the next afternoon to talk about it…
…he never showed up
He had seemingly vanished into thin air. I suppose unbeknownst to me, my prince had turned into a frog and the fairytale was over. Disillusioned and disappointed in myself for not leaving things where I wanted (in that lobby bar), I made the most of my last few hours in NYC and boarded my flight back to Brazil.
About 6 weeks later, I was awakened by a phone call around 3:30 in the morning. There was no number on the Caller ID. “Unavailable,” it read. I answered a sleepy, “hello, hello, hello.” No one spoke. I hung up and went to the bathroom. The call came in on my Brazilian cell phone… “Probably a wrong number,” I thought. But a few seconds later, the phone rang again. Hello? “Hello,” the voice replied. After a few seconds, it registered to my sleepy brain that the person on the other end was speaking English, so it wasn’t a Brazilian calling the wrong number, as I had previously assumed.
It was him. I immediately knew that it was him. “May I speak to Kandyce,” the voice entreated. “This is Kandyce.” “Hello Kandyce, this is… let’s just call him James.” After a long pause and a silent, but deep breath, I replied, “I know.” “How do you know,” he pleaded. “Because I’ve been waiting for you.”
The signal was breaking up, so I moved to the living room closer to the window. Obviously, I had questions…lots of them. Well, really only one question. I’m sure you probably guess what that question was. Naked, curled up on the red ottoman in my living room, looking out into the night sky from the floor to ceiling window, I asked my question…and I listened for his reply.
I would tell you stay tuned for Part III, but that story is still under construction. Honestly, I don’t know that there will ever be a Part III. I will satisfy your curiosity and tell you that I have seen him since that fateful phone call. I have even met his closest friends and a few of his colleagues…and assistants and drivers (I know, right). Still, I can’t say for certain that there will ever be a Part III. If it never comes, I am truly grateful for Parts I and II. I needed it. I needed to believe again. I needed God to show me what was possible.
Your turn…
Tell me about a time when you have experienced a fairytale right in the middle of ordinary life?
Diary of a Gold Digger 