I've worked on this post since late August of last year...
Every time I start to write it, my eyes water, and I take a moment to re-read her words. The pain is undeniable with each sentence. Yet, by the end of her beautiful words, I feel more invigorated than when I started. I think subconsciously, if I finally write this, it closes this chapter of my life and I fear that. I don't want to let go of the reminders: Audrey Hepburn with a long-stem cigarette, wispy Stella McCartney designed underthings, vegan culinary masterpieces, to name a few. I like that they...she...demands a place in my memory. I've written about this woman here before & for full context will repost it. But this will focus on our last meeting together.
I got the opportunity to visit Chicago again last June for work. We shared correspondence & made a date for the Saturday I had free at a Chinese noodle shop she recommended. When she sat down, her beauty was radiant but her eyes could not hide the despondency she had for her current occupation. She had, at that point, enough of the problems that came with her job: The male chauvinism, the crooks, & the misogyny that runs rampant (even in work situations that are supposed to allow her to feel some sort of protection) would drive a regular person nuts, let alone a person with her level of empathy. Because of how toxic her environs were, this elegant flower was wilting from the inside-out. My friend was in pain.
We spent a sizable amount of the date venting. I think it just felt good for both of us to look someone in the eyes we knew wasn't full of crap that cared about what the other was experiencing. We then had the most amazing walk with a light chill in the Chicago air. We talked about her tote bag & how her dad would get into email quarrels with members of the Westboro Baptist Church. We talked about race matters in a way & at a volume that made others around us just a little uncomfortable. We had fun in a way I think both of us needed to badly. Our connection was limited by our circumstances, but it was certainly no less authentic.
After we get settled in her condo, we relax on the couch & she takes a few bites of a vegan cupcake as I finally begin to unbox the gifts I'd been waiting a month to bestow upon her. As that is happening, she takes off her ballet flats, wiggles her toes, shoots me this incredibly coy look, & slyly says, "...And these are for youuuuu...I got them pedicured yesterday!"
*sigh*
Let's backtrack a little bit...
The first time we met, I had a lady friend who was very intrigued by her & wanted to know how the date went. I figured the best way to do that was with a picture. The problem, however, was in our height disparity. So there was no way to take the pic without her identity being compromised and that simply could not happen. So, as she laid on the couch with her feet in my lap, I did what any red-blooded American male would do in that situation and showed a little attention to the fellas who may or may not have gone to market and/or had varying amounts of roast beef. SHE took that moment to explain how everyone wins when someone has a foot fetish. I, sadly had to stop what I was doing to take the following moment to explain I don't HAVE a foot fetish and as I commenced working on the fellas crying "Wee, wee, wee.", I saw a camera flash. Fast-forward to a few days before our dalliance, and I close out my email to her with, "I can't wait for the opportunity to share another moment like this one with you again:" accompanied by a copy of the only picture we have together. It's easy to see how she got the upper hand with this situation...
"I know what you're doing, young lady..."
So as I'm performing any and all adjectives involved with affection to her delightful lower extremities, she has the audacity to say, nonchalantly, as she takes another bite from her cupcake, "Like I said, I mean, YOU get the pleasure of having this fetish... I get the pleasure of YOU having this fetish...everybody wins!" As she shoots me this look that could only be described as "Checkmate, motherfucker.", I just conceded. I know I don't have a fetish. But at that moment, she could've said I like ladyboys & I probably would've agreed with her.
We moved to the bed where more traditional erogenous zones were paid real attention & then she simply decided that she was going to make it crystal clear that tonight was her show. She then told me to lay on my side where she could get into a position to see to it I could never fight her on this topic again. Because as I'm in the midst of euphoria when her voice would be muffled, when her vocal cords aren't restricted, she's telling me how worked up I'm getting about my fetish as she jams her feet in my face. Know when to fold 'em, kids. If a person that makes you feel that good extorts you into having a foot fetish, at least with THAT person, own it. To this day, it's one of the slickest power swaps I've ever seen, and I was honored to be played like a piano. It was an amazing experience that due to my own shortcomings did not have many more highlights to speak of. But afterwards, there is one moment that replays in my head over & over again:
I'm on the couch and she asks me if I smoke. I tell her I do not. She then asks me if I mind if she smokes. I tell her I don't mind at all. It was a lie. I honestly detest smoking. I hate the smell of it, I hate how it ravaged the bodies of my grandparents, I hate the effect it has on my sinuses. So I'm on the couch & she's at the window, she takes a drag of the cigarette, blows it out, and the smile doesn't want to leave my face. My disdain for smoking pales in comparison to the way she makes me feel. It's an unbelievable feeling to have a connection like that and I'm honored to say that I had it. But the reality is creeping in. The sadness is finding its way back into our eyes. We can't just stay there all night & make each other laugh, or relax, or smile. We have to go back to our lives. She offered to bring me back to my hotel, but we realized she'd have to go through a pretty rough part of town, accepted that this was it, probably forever for us, and commenced with the most emotionally bittersweet kisses I've ever experienced.
We stayed in touch somewhat & she did everything she could to stay in her line of work, but it finally overwhelmed her, and she had to leave. It hurt me that she was hurt that way; that they broke this beautiful woman, who gave her whole heart to these savages who could not appreciate her or her narrative. They have moved on while she hurt. They won't look at the pain they cause because they feel they've done nothing wrong and their lack of self-awareness cost me a friend that was one of the major reasons I'm happy to live again. But even though she is not in my life, she is alive, she is resilient, she is brilliant. She is other-side-of-the-pillow cool, she is one of the most amazing people I know, she is unforgettable, and today, she is 32 years young.
Happy birthday, my friend. I hope you've been able to make progress towards seeing the light of a better day through your difficult time. You will always have my appreciation & a special place in my heart. I'm eternally grateful for your presence in my life, completely regardless of how fleeting those moments seemed to be. Take solace in knowing that the woman, the wit, the charm, and the understated elegance that make you who you are has been and will always be in the forefront of my memories. You are loved. With passion and affection, and with all my heart, I wish you only the best.
Farewell,
Rashad Clark
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