Infatuated with a Lie. Story of Rose and Irene. Part 1
Introduction
I like to welcome you to my real-life tale of supposed love, connection, heart break, loss and life lessons. The tale starts of with the common boy meets girl then goes on to a few twists and turns. In it I tell of how I dealt with a love one’s death and the many ripples it caused. Also, I learned that even the strongest of people can be played the fool. Names and locations have been switched around, but the heart of the story is 100% true. As I am writing this introduction to the story, I have only completed 2 parts to it. There will be at least 4 additional parts to follow. And they will be uploaded every week.
Part 1.
It was a cool day in Southern California. I asked my friend Irene out to a café in order to get her opinion on a situation I was going through. The café has an Italian theme and is set up with a street view. During the day it’s a place where many a business owner comes to meet as well as the young and old. I have had dates and business meetings there, so it is my go-to spot. Irene herself is an interesting character and what is even more strange is our relationship. We are in many ways extremely alike and in fact off and on we used to joke about being twins. What is funny about that is we look absolutely nothing alike and at least a couple decades separate our ages. I am in between medium and large built man that grew strong due to years of weightlifting and serving in the military. My hair is cropped short. Irene is an older woman with long flowing silver hair and a youthful look in her eyes. First meeting her I was casual but in growing to know her more I grew to be slightly intimidated. Try to imagine knowing someone that is like you but years older. She always seemed to anticipate how I think and that always made me uneasy. Others have tried to figure me out, but they are usually far off the mark. Being unpredictable in ones thought patterns is usually the only edge a man can have. I am heavy into personal development and many of the books I read, she read years ago and by now several times over. Meaning that she has had the time to apply more of the learned concepts and by doing so acquired the trait few possess called wisdom. Granted, there is no such thing as a perfect copy, and I know we don’t have the exact same life experiences, but she is as about as close as one can get to an older version of one’s self.
Irene came, we embraced then ordered our drinks. I had a large chai tea and she had a medium peppermint mocha latte. After going through the beginning pleasantries, I said “So allow me to get into why I asked you here. Is to discuss a lady I am into but unsure about. I am on the fence about her and as you know I am prone to doing things that are a bit out of the ordinary so before doing so I would like your feedback.”
She seemed to relax a little bit. In our time together I have made a few rash decisions and in knowing that I haven’t “taken the plunge yet” she said in her soothing voice “please go on.”
Meeting Rose
To begin the story, I have to go some time in the past, close to a year actually. I was a salesman that was never really off, so I always had to look the part. The chosen outfit for that day was casual but showed I meant business. I wore a light blue sport coat which went well with the crisp white shirt underneath. The blue jeans I wore had a white hue to them, so they complemented the upper half of my body well. My dress shoes and belt were both dark brown and to top it all off I wore a gold watch.
In southern California coffee shops and cafés are pretty popular. The one I decided to go to that day was setup like someone’s living room. I liked to habit them because it was a comfortable setting similar to being at home but without any distractions. I also love to people watch (smile). I took a seat and to begin my day I always get my mind right by doing a little reading. While I was deep into my book a young woman that seemed like she might be from the middle east sat next to me. As a salesman I was always in purist to improve my conversation skills so, I let her get comfortable then struck up a conversation. As we conversed, I learned that she was a college student and that she was not alone. As we talked a group of women joined her and it became obvious they were in a study group of sorts. As we wrapped up our conversation, I noticed another middle eastern looking woman in the group. For some reason we kept making eye contact. My thoughts when I saw her was “Wow. She is pretty.” I allowed the woman I was conversing with to go back to her group, made some sales calls, did a little work on my laptop then left. As far as the woman I kept making eye contact with, I pushed her out of my mind. I see beautiful women all the time living where I am living so I carried on with my life.
It was a few weeks later when I went back to the that establishment and took a seat alone near the door. I was dressed similar to the last time I went there. Except I had on a dark tweed jacket and red suede shoes. It was late in the evening and I was drinking deeply from another one of my books when I heard someone talking rather loudly. I turned around and seated a few feet behind me was the same girl I kept making eye contact with a few weeks ago. She was on the phone speaking in some unknown language. The difference this time was she was completely alone and as she was on the phone, she stared directly at me. I turned back to my book and kept reading while she continued her loud conversation. I did look back at her once and she continued to stare. I realized at that moment this was probably a way to get me to notice her. So, when she got off the phone, I said something to her. What I said exactly is lost to me now but, whatever it was she latched on to it and asked me to join her.
Seeing her from a distance is one thing but up close is a completely different story. She wasn’t pretty. She was drop dead gorgeous, beautiful really. I found in our conversation that her roots in an northern area of Africa called Morocco but had an odd accent. She grew up in Johannesburg South Africa, so it almost seemed British. I couldn’t begin to tell you how fascinated I was. The deeper I dug the more I liked. She was also into developing herself and she gave me a list of books I never even heard of. It was surprising to learn I was few years her elder. I often converse with a lot of people but usually I have to be the one that directs the conversation by using various techniques to extent it. With her it was different, the conversation just flowed. Before I knew it, an hour had pasted, and we made plans to meet again the following week.
Her name was Rose.
…
Back in the present Irene just smiled.
