Losing Me, Finding You(79)

When I spy the book on the desk next to my bed, I feel a sense of relief. Reading. I can get lost in a world and spend days there. Besides, reading a book gives me a goal. It's that sense of purpose that puts a temporary bandage over my uncertainty and lets me waste away the rest of the day without anymore negative thoughts.





Written in the Stars

Jennifer Martinez





Excerpt Included!





fate (ft) n.

1.

a. The supposed force, principle, or power that predetermines events.

b. The inevitable events predestined by this force.



I've never been a believer in “fate.” I grew up with a strong willed mom who instilled in me, from a very young age, that I could do anything I want. Throughout my life what I wanted changed quite a few times. When I was seven, I wanted to be a star soccer player for Team USA. At eleven, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. Come high school, an environmental lawyer. I prided myself on never being a girl who needed a guy. I remember in high school I laughed at the girls fussing over prom dates when all I cared about was the lives of the chickens our cafeteria turned into chicken fries.

Sometime between high school and college, my goals changed again. I wanted to be a philanthropic housewife. Marry rich and use his money for the betterment of society. That was my first mistake. I still wanted to be an environmental lawyer, but the long term plan was to find that perfect someone, move into a big house with a white picket fence and have my two point five children. After dropping them off at school, I would go to the museum where I would be a committee member and work on getting art into the inner city.

The problem with this plan was that I now needed a guy, man, whatever. I needed someone who would treat me right and had a good head on his shoulders. Just because I no longer wanted a typical career didn't mean I was going to bend over for just anyone. This is my story to all young women. The story about kissing a few frogs before I found my prince and how I didn't even see it coming.





Chapter 1

Curtis

Curtis was my first hope for my American dream. He was perfect! He was a few years older than me but we worked together at Macy's. I will never forget the first time he talked to me. I was only eighteen and yea, I had totally scoped him out and deemed him out of my reach. He was a perfect Southern gentleman. Thin, but toned with years of hard work etched into the lines on his hands. He has a slight Southern drawl and chestnut brown hair that curled into perfect ringlets at the base of his neck. He was kind and gentle to everyone and to this day, I still don't believe he has a bad bone in his body. I was focused on my Calculus one homework, fighting with the fact that I had to learn the manual steps to the equation when it was easier to press two buttons on my hand painted TI-89 calculator for the right answer. He must have seen my frustration because he walked over and plopped unceremoniously down on the bench to my left. He had an unopened bag of Cheetos in his hand and leaned over my arm to see what was frustrating me.

I was so lost in the light musky scent of his cologne and the fresh lavender smell of those perfect brown curls, I didn't even hear him the first time he asked me what I was having trouble with. It wasn't until those perfect, soul searching brown eyes of his made contact with mine that I even realized he had said something. I finally snapped back to reality and told him about my horrid bout with manual mathematical labor. He chuckled as he scooted a few inches closer to me and said, “Here, let me see if I can help. I love math.” Yep, he just got even more attractive. I tried to stop the flutter of a million butterflies wreaking havoc on my abdomen as I smiled and said, “Thanks. I'm MacKinzie.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you MacKinzie; I'm Curtis.” he replied. He was genuinely kind about it. You could tell he had no ulterior motive but to help rid me of my hate of calculus.

My one hour lunch break flew by with Curtis explaining to me exactly why numbers meant letters and vice versa. This was a teacher I actually enjoyed. I went back to work with my head swimming with exponents, variables and perfect curls. Every day for the next month, he would help me on our lunch breaks and my grade drastically improved. Every once in a while, I would glance over at him while we talked about math, the migration of great whites and stained glass. And I would think for just a second, that I saw a hint of something more in his eyes than just a friendly look; it was a longing. I would spend my nights staring at the ceiling of my studio apartment, hugging a pillow, daydreaming about my calculus Romeo and how one day, he would finally kiss me. And in that moment, I would finally know we were meant to be.

The months passed and Curtis was transferred to another department. My breaks weren't the same without him but eventually my life returned to normal. I ended up with a B in calculus and had a few uneventful dates in the time between my first meeting with Curtis and my nineteenth birthday. No one ever got to me the way he did so I knew I wasn't over my fantasy crush yet. He had stolen a piece of my heart during our tutoring sessions and I wasn't ready to ask for it back yet.

My nineteenth birthday arrived in a blaze of pink and green balloons care of my amazing roommate, Hazel. We spent our day walking along the quaint streets of our city’s downtown area and eating lunch at the cereal bar. I would have bet a hundred dollars against the name that popped up on my caller ID as I palmed the cold, metal door leading back out into our city. Curtis. I picked up the phone and tried to say hi as friendly and calmly as possible but according to Hazel, it was more of a screech. It was a short and sweet conversation; he told me happy birthday and asked me to accompany him to dinner that night. I gave him my address and he told me he'd pick me up at seven.