The millionaire and I.

To decide where to go on my next trip I cut several little pieces of paper and wrote on each piece the name of a city that I would love to visit: Miami, Rome, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, New York, Madrid, Buenos Aires, etc. I put the papers inside a glass jar that in the past had contained my favorite jelly: blackberry. I closed my eyes and, slowly, grabbed a random paper. Then, I unfolded it without any hurry, although my heart was nervously beating. I curiously looked at the written word and it read: Washington. In September I travelled to my chosen destination.
My first trip to Washington was going to give me an unexpected opportunity that I squandered because of the typical silliness of youth. I stayed with my father’s cousins two ladies that were genuinely nice, great hosts and adventurous women like me. They worked for famous international organizations in downtown. From Monday to Friday, we would leave the house early in the morning. The sisters would go to work, and I would stroll the city as a tourist. I loved to ride with them in their convertible car while I felt like a movie star. A divine sun shined every day. I enjoyed very much that morning ride. The breeze would slap my face, make my soul happy and blow my hair.
On the way we had to cross a bridge over the Potomac River. On the other end, one could see a horizon of beauty adorned by picturesque white buildings and massive monuments. The streets in downtown kept all the legendary secrets of a powerful nation. I used to fill my lungs with a different kind of air and my mood would become light weight. I would not be able to exactly describe the feeling of walking through Washington, but it was a mixture of excitement and snobbism with a flair of mystery.
Since I was never in a rush, I used to sit in a Café to watch the pedestrians pass by. This is a fascination that has been part of me until today. It is a cheap captivating hobby if you have the luxury of having time to waste. I would try to guess the personality of the passers-by. The extroverts would march with steady walk and good rhythm. There were those who had problems of the spirit and moved sluggishly and some that would walk like puppets pulled by strings. I was always able to identify the nervous characters by the speed of their steps or the expressions on their faces. I found men and women in love and lovers in trouble quarreling on the corners of a street. Everyday an intriguing mix of individuals would parade in front of my curious eyes.
The sidewalks, the parks and the restaurants were continually full of tourists. I used to choose one famous touristic place to visit every day. I was impressed by the thousands of tombs aligned in perfect rows at the Arlington Cemetery. It was a delight to stroll through the Georgetown neighborhood with old-fashioned houses embellished with lovely colorful doors. It became one of my favorite spots. Washington seemed to be a perfect place to meet a modern, cultured, and wealthy Prince Charming. The cosmos sent me a gift. In a perfect autumn noon, I met James Barkley the Third.
It was a Monday and I encountered him after visiting the National Cathedral. I was calmly going down the stairs and I saw him. He was incredibly attractive, and I noticed he was smiling at someone. I looked back and there was no one there. James was flirting with me as he leaned against his sports car to impress. He looked like a model out of a magazine. He wore a black English-cut suit made of flawless cloth. He had a white shirt and silk tie. His shoes were expensive. When he shook my hand to introduce himself, I noticed that his cuffs had a monogram. James got the ideal body of a twenty-six-year-old man and was very charismatic.
The man was mesmerized by me, a Colombian tourist, tall, pretty, curvy, well dressed, with a big smile and a walk learned in glamour classes. Speaking English was my ace in the sleeve. James invited me to have lunch at a restaurant by the Potomac River. It was impossible to overlook the blue water and the romantic ambiance of the place. Time flew by. Suddenly, the time agreed to meet my hosts rang in my mind. They would come to pick me up at five o’clock in the afternoon at the chosen place, part of the established ritual. Like Cinderella I had to abandon James. I had to go to get my ride and so I did without losing my slipper. And the prince? He asked for my telephone number. I was bursting of joy when I jumped into the pumpkin convertible waiting for me.
On Tuesday we met at Georgetown. We rented bicycles and I impressed him when he saw me smoothly riding my bike. After all I had had an intensive training during my childhood when I learned how to ride my gigantic bicycle meant for grownups. We toured the Mall and visited the National Museum of Natural History. People stared at us because we made a great couple. We bought vanilla and chocolate ice cream and we kissed. Colorful butterflies.
On Wednesday James invited me to the Kennedy Center to see a famous conductor whose name I do not remember. It was a concert of classical music and while the conductor was sweating and swinging his baton, James held my hand and squeezed my fingers. We felt electric current flowing. The applauses and the ovations came, and the lights turned on, but James and I were only listening to our own symphony. On the way back, we stopped to look at the stars in silence. Love in the air.
On Thursday we had lunch at an exquisite restaurant in Old Town Alexandria a scenic historic place over the Potomac River. We caressed with our eyes and walked around like bewitched lovers. We kissed at every corner, suspended in the air, and we rode the tram without letting go of each other. It was an unforgettable day. Total chemistry.
On Friday we had dinner at a grill restaurant near the White House and meeting point for Washington celebrities. I felt divine, but James did not like my dress. “It should have been more luxurious” were his insolent words. I was upset. When he tried to hug me, I pulled away. I had spent a fortune to buy the dress! Then intellectual conversations began, and the wine flew from glass to glass. James was proud of my savoir faire and intelligent conversation. He looked at me and whispered, “I am sorry, you look fabulous.” I had to forgive him. He took me home and before I got out of the car, he gave me a big surprise: “Tomorrow we have a party at the White House. I will pick you up at 7:00”. What? My mind went blank. I said nothing. I did not have anything to wear! A woman in panic.
On Saturday I woke up early. I could not sleep thinking about the party. A dance at the presidential house was a big event. I had no dress, no shoes, no purse, no money, and no desire to compete with the expensive gowns of the cream of the crop of the American society. I went shopping. To splurge an enormous amount of cash to buy a designer dress was crazy. I made my decision: I would not go to the ball. I phoned James in the afternoon. He answered and was incredibly happy. I told him the news. “I feel sick”, I lied. James’s reaction was so cold that it almost froze the telephone. We hang up. I stayed still for few seconds and then my life continued. Was I foolish?
On Sunday I got up feeling optimistic, but with a sad intuition. I checked my bedroom’s phone several times to make sure it was working. James did not call me. Who did he go with to the dance? He had plenty of options. At that time, I did not have enough experience to know that men do not forgive certain things and that they can fall out of love in an instant. Naiveté of a twenty-year-old girl.
The next day I call James to his law firm. I waited on the line with anguish. His secretary, a girl with a charming voice, said to me, “I am sorry Miss Mosquera, Mr. Barkley does not want to talk to you.” It was a dart thrown to my heart, but it was not torn apart.
I did not meet the President of the United States or dance at the White House. The millionaire and I lived some days of what could have been but never was. An unexpected invitation changed the rest of my existential journey on this planet. My house of cards fell when the hand of destiny seized the one card that made everything collapse. Nevertheless, the jelly jar was still sitting where I left it filled with numerous pleated papers that I would unfold throughout the course of my life.