For Vincent it was another long week the pace ever increasing the demands on his time frustrating to point of wanting to cash out in a moment of weakness, buy a boat and just sail. He always wanted to learn to sail the open seas, money would have been no object. There was only infrequent contact between him and Nadrea, they spoke daily even if for only a few seconds, an occasional email but as schedules being what they were most likely wouldn’t see each other until Saturday. So as Nadrea began her ritual of preparing to go out, tonight was an “exchange event” a nice way of saying it was a sex party, she had after all invited Vincent to join her he sat on the floor just outside of security at BWI.
Night slowly began to cast its shadow over the District, its mysterious spell that allowed for indiscriminate acts intended and committed in the darkness, away from innocent and disapproving eyes. Nadrea intended her look for the evening to be as tawdry as possible, placing long dark curls in her hair, a look whose innocence was betrayed by her knowing eyes and their carnal intentions. Vincent sat like a stranded nomad on the floor, tired and weary but not irritated or worn. His running shoes, long since faded shorts that were tattered on the cuffs and frayed around the pockets, they were far too comfortable and familiar to ever disregard.
People passed by some of them striding with great intent and purpose other shuffling along some travel weary others just living life at their own relaxed pace for the moment. Many people moving like nearly expressionless mindless drones, talking to themselves of into a wireless head set in desperate attempt to stay connect to an ever more wired but more isolated impersonal world. Soon Vincent would join in with the mindless drones, finding his way to his feet but his face was not emotionless it was filled with joy he felt, he couldn’t help but show its simplicity and elegance for all to see.. His emotions for once, like the Grinch on Christmas morning pure and innocent. His arms swallowing her swinging her around like a reunited couple in a 1950’s classic movie, something was subtly different in his touch. Often Vincent would go for months with out seeing Deb, barely having a conversation of any substance but this time it had been only a few weeks since they last were together.
“What’s the news?” He asked impatiently.
Stalling, “ Well, you know how I have been waiting for a little bit of a break?” Deb played back Vincent just the noticing her slightly more polished slightly less disheveled artist look seeming more like a slightly refined sophisticate.
Finally giving in, “I’m moving to D.C.” Her coy expression becoming one of unadulterated joy. Those four simple words while the ultimate point failed to explain , but the 90 minute drive in Friday evening traffic, hauling her four oversized “necessities” suitcases allowed her more than enough time to fill in the details for her friend. In the end it could all be summed up that she took a job with the national endowment for the arts, had placed several pieces with a Nuevo Riche type not all that unlike Vincent in his private collection and it led to a gallery show as well to be held in DC.
Somewhere in the whirlwind of an explanation Vincent offered to let her stay with him. “Perhaps after the weekend.” She replied wanting both her solitude and freedom to roam a place she had been away from for far too long, somewhere in the distance was not wanting to impose on any of his exiting plans. For a few minutes no one else existed for him, his only thoughts were about Deb coming back, nothing deeper and nothing more.
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