by Angela Smith
“Darling, don’t you look glamorous! I’m loving the hair!” she expressed as she led me to the car waiting in her driveway.
“Marisol, I thought we were walking…the shops aren’t far from here at all, maybe five minutes by cable car.”
“No, dear, Bernard will take us. Who knows, we might want to stray farther than you think and it’s always good to have a car around in case we get tired.” I followed her into the car and we were off for our first destination: Ghirardelli Square, which was less than ten minutes from my home. We would also be stopping by Fisherman’s Wharf and my personal favorite, Fillmore Street, which was known to have up-and-coming trends along with great eateries. It was fast becoming one of the best shopping districts in the country; rivaling New York’s Fifth Avenue and Boston’s Newbury Street. I couldn’t wait to see what it had in store for me.
“I think you’ll find this area to be Hotsy-Totsy. If you can’t find anything here, Chickadee, you won’t find it anywhere,” Marisol explained as we got out of the car at our first location. We were heading for Helpers Bazaar, a quaint little shop full of vintage treasures. There were cute little hats on stands and antique brooches like the one I got from Bayani. There were also knit sweaters and Little Black Dresses for nights spent gallivanting this amazing city. It was a shoppers dream but sadly, it didn’t show me any new or upcoming trends. I would have to come back here on my own, though, and buy a few items for my wardrobe. I just couldn’t resist!
We stopped in a few other shops before we hit Jackson and Polk, which was said to offer modern products with an “appreciation of the past” – that sounded good to me! However, to my dismay, the store offered things that weren’t quite going to fit into the pages of Fashion and Flare. They seemed to have a more natural approach to things so even though they had beautiful items, they weren’t what I was looking for either. After a few more hours of fluffing around and seeing many things I wanted to buy for myself, I figured I’d best try looking online for trends as there were just too many little trinkets to be distracted by in these shops. God knows I have a weakness for trinkets!
With three leaden shopping bags full of stuff, Marisol and I made our way over to Lori’s Diner. This was one of the most iconic diners in San Fran and brought flashbacks of the 1950s to the mind of those who ate there.
“Another great era, my dear,” Marisol said. “The 50s much like the 20s were a fun time to live in. So much different than the 20s but just as much fun.” We each had a coffee malt and I ordered some French fries and a grilled cheese. I had a thing for the gooey cheese sandwiches it seemed! After eating and chatting some more, Marisol and I headed home. I picked up Clara at Jeanette’s – luckily she hadn’t destroyed anything except for a pair of fuzzy slippers – and decided to call it a night. San Francisco was so fun but I was completely bushed!
Chapter Five
Bayani returned the following day and came over straight away. I wasn’t expecting anyone and assuming it was just Esteban stopping in to tell me more about his Argentine horses or cattle, I decided to answer the door in my Hello Kitty pajamas. With feet.
Big mistake.
Bayani was on the other side of the door and looked at me in amusement. I can only imagine how I looked with cartoon characters and cupcakes all over my body but thankfully, he didn’t comment on it.
“Did I wake you? I’m really sorry. I just wanted to see you since I never got an email from you…” he said, apologetically. “I suppose I should have called before just dropping in.”
“It’s fine and I’m so sorry for not e-mailing you. I meant to, but I’ve been so busy this past week.”
“I can tell. Nice hair, by the way. It suits you.”
I blushed at the thought of him analyzing my new haircut and my body encased in what looked like children’s pajamas.
“Thank you so so so much for the brooch! I wear it every day! How did you know I would like it?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. You just looked like the type of girl who would appreciate a good vintage piece,” he shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets while doing so.
“I actually came over here to see if you wanted to attend the tree lighting on Pier 39 with me tomorrow night. It’s at 6 o’clock and is usually a lot of fun…”
“Oh my God! Yes! I love Christmas so any excuse to watch a tree be strung with lights and lit is my cup of tea!” I almost jumped for joy. Almost.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at 1:00 then and we can make a day of it,” he said, giving me a lingering kiss on my cheek.
I couldn’t help but rub the spot where he kissed me. That’s when I knew I had it bad. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Bayani had definitely gotten a hold of me and wasn’t planning to let me go.
Oddly enough, I liked the idea of that.
The following day I was up and ready by 10 o’clock, trying my hardest to figure out what one should wear to a tree lighting. I kept thinking this was our first proper date. The late night diner experience, while wonderful in its own right, wasn’t really a proper date. At least I didn’t think so.
But, this, this would be a proper date. I could feel it in my bones and it gave me chills. The thought of being around the most gorgeous and caring man in all of San Francisco made me smile. I could already feel the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing him in a few hours.
“What do I wear, Clara? What would you wear if you were going on a date with a gorgeous man?” I asked my furry companion, forgetting that she couldn’t speak human and would probably pick out some mismatched outfit if she could. She was a teeny bit hyper active these days. God love her though. She deserved to be a little hyper after all she’d been through. She was a trooper.
I decided on a lovely white lace top paired with some skinny jeans and my favorite Versace stilettos. I chose to bring my light pink pea coat with me too, just in case it got chilly later on. I put a dainty little headband with a bow on the side on and some pearl stringed necklaces but I still felt like there was something missing.
Of course!
My brooch. That beautiful piece of jewelry would definitely complete my look. I did a little twirl in the mirror loving the way I looked and happy to see myself smiling like a loon for the first time in as long as I could remember.
At one o’clock on the dot, Bayani pulled up in his black BMW. What was it with people out here? It seemed like everyone, no matter what they did for work, had one. You’d never see that back home. It was all Ford, Chevy and GM on our roads. Nothing fancy, just useful. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. I loved Bayani’s BMW but would just as easily get into an SUV or hybrid.
“Hello, Gorgeous,” he said, opening the door for me like the chivalrous man that he was. I think I literally swooned. He was just so perfect. What man actually opened a door for you nowadays? Just yesterday, I had my hands laden down with papers and magazines for work and even though I was visibly struggling to open the door, not one man stopped to help me. Bayani was like a different species compared to those men.
“Well, hello to you too. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” I teased, as I slid into the passenger seat.
“I’m glad you brought a coat. It can get a little nippy down by the bay and I’ve got a surprise for you too, so you’ll need that coat sooner than later.”
Surprise? Oh how I loved surprises…as long as they were good surprises. Don’t try to tell me you have a surprise for me and then tell me that you’ve decided to leave your wife for a man. That’s not a good surprise – or a good experience when it happens to your good friend who had just given birth to her second child. Hopefully Bayani’s surprise would be a lot more fun than that. God, could anything be worse than that, now that I think of it? I doubt it!
“You know, Autumn, I’m so happy that we met. It was like fate wasn’t it? If you hadn’t been jaywalking and I hadn’t been distracted, we would have never crossed paths. I just…well, I just think you’re wonderful. Kind, full of
warmth and beautiful,” he said. Was it me or did he seem a little shy at that very moment? Maybe he thought I wouldn’t accept his compliment well?
“Thanks, Bayani. I’m glad we met too,” I said before adding into the silence, “and I think you’re wonderful, too.”
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as we drove towards Pier 39. I had never dreamed my life could be so complete. If you had asked me just a few weeks ago, pre-Marisol, Sophie and Bayani what would have become of me, I would have never thought of anything that was happening to me now.
Thanksgiving was a time to be grateful, and boy, was I grateful for the wonderful people in my life who seemed to love me and care about me endlessly.
I had lived in San Francisco for about seven months now (I stopped counting the days and hours once I found Marisol and stopped being a hermit) but I had yet to go to Pier 39. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t want to go. I just never had the time or the interest in going alone. OK, I did have the time, you’re right. I just didn’t want to walk along there and see the beautiful sights but have no one to share them with. So, as you can imagine, I was over the moon at going with Bayani and getting to see the annual Christmas tree lighting.
When we arrived at Pier 39, my lovely, gorgeous, sweet (maybe) boyfriend took my hand and said “C’mon, we’re going to be late!” as he ran with me in tow towards the Western part of the marina. We arrived at Gate H, slightly out of breathe but on time, apparently.
Wow. So this was my surprise. Un-freaking-believable!
“Surprise!” Bayani said, stretching his arm out to show me the stunning ferry docked at the marina.
“It will take us to Forbes Island. The only man-made floating island you’ll ever see. You’ll even get to see the sea lions on the way,” he said, winking at me.
I was dumbstruck by how thoughtful this was. We had only known each other a short time and already he had treated me better than any man before him. I felt like a princess.
Boarding the ferry, Bayani and I took a spot by the edge where we could look out over the deck and see the azure water slapping gently at the boat. Upon take off, I felt Bayani move behind me and put his arms around my waist and then rest his head on my shoulder. The feeling of him being so close to me sent shivers down my spine.
“I hope you like it, cupcake,” he whispered, before kissing my neck. I was so entranced by what he was doing that I almost missed the famous sea lions splashing in the water and lounging on rocks just five minutes from the shore.
“Oooh! Sea lions! Look, look!” I squealed like I was five years old again and seeing a zoo animal for the first time. Bayani just laughed his usual throaty laugh and put his head back on my shoulder. The rest of the trip was beautifully silent as both he and I drank in the scenery and wished things could stay this way for ever.
Once we disembarked at Forbes Island, we were escorted to the only restaurant on it by a uniformed waiter. It all seemed extremely posh, but I loved it. I was taking snapshots with my mind so I could tell Marisol and Jeanette all about it later on.
Lunch was simply divine. We had oysters in a garlic butter sauce for an appetizer and herb crusted salmon for our main course. This was punctuated by numerous glasses of red wine and lots of laughter.
“Remember the first time I pronounced your name and I called you Bay Annie by accident?” I said, chuckling at the memory. You’ve got to agree his name is kind of hard to pronounce!
“Of course, I remember! You made me sound like a cross dresser who walks the Bay looking for clients!”
“Well, thank goodness you’re not a prostitute named Annie because I like you just the way you are,” I said.
The conversation (and the wine) was flowing so freely that neither of us noticed the song that was playing until there was a lull in conversation. On the restaurant radio overheard was “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias. One of my favorite songs ever and one that couldn’t be more appropriately named than for this breathtaking man I was currently seated across from.
Bayani must have sensed my complacency because before I knew what was happening he had gotten up from his seat and came over to my side of the table. Standing beside me, he took a theatrical bow and then held out his arm while saying “May I have this dance?” Here? Now? Was he insane? We were in a very posh restaurant where people came to dine not dance!
The way his eyes were twinkling mischievously told me to let my guard down and go with the flow. After all, it was only one dance. So I took his hand and he led me to a spot near the window overlooking the water. From here you could see the buildings of the California coast glittering in the afternoon sunlight yet you felt like you were a million miles away from it all. As I rested my head on Bayani’s strong chest and he wrapped his arms around me for the second time that day, I felt like I never wanted to leave his embrace. Swaying to the music or hanging over a deck on the ferry, it didn’t matter to me as long as I was by his side and protected.
When we arrived back on shore a few hours later, the spirit of Christmas was definitely in the air. Gone were the vendors selling beach balls and surfing gear. In their place were new vendors (or maybe the same ones with new wares) selling Christmas items like Santa and Rudolph shaped balloons, red and green tinsel and heavenly smelling gingerbread men decorated with edible silver balls and peppermint candy canes. We had only been gone for a few hours but in that time the entire pier was transformed into a magical Christmas wonderland.
The tree lighting was due to start soon so we decided to get our place by the tree but before we could reach the roped off area, I saw a spot where you could send a letter to Santa. Now, I know I’m old enough to know that Old Saint Nick doesn’t exactly exist in real life, but at that moment I was so caught up in the holiday spirit that I persuaded Bayani to stop and send a letter to the jolly old man with me. I picked up a green glitter pen and began writing:
Dear Santa :
I think I must have been on the “nice” list this year because I’ve already been given so many gifts and it isn’t even Christmas! But I just wanted to wish for one more thing, if that’s ok. I would be so happy and eternally grateful to you if you could let all of the people in my life right now stay with me. Give me the gift of hope this Christmas, Santa, because I want to believe so badly in my new friends but I can’t seem to let the past go.
Do this for me and I’ll spread good cheer to all the little girls and boys who think that you’re nothing more than an old man in a suit who exists only in their dreams.
Merry Christmas!
Autumn
I folded my letter and tucked it into the envelope addressed to “Santa Claus, North Pole” before sticking it in the mailbox at the end of the booth. I noticed that Bayani was still writing and wondered what he could possibly be wishing for this holiday season. I hope that whatever it was it included me.
The tree lighting on Pier 39 was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. There were so many people; some wearing Santa hats and others just happy to be with their family on such an exciting night. Apparently, the tree was shipped in from Washington and had been carefully decorated with all kinds of baubles and multi colored lights. It shone like only a Christmas tree could and brought cheers of applause and whoops of delight as all the lights were switched on.
Bayani and I held hands on the way back to the car. I liked the way his hand fit in mine, so comforting and strong. I snuggled in closer to him as we walked and he slung his arm over my shoulder pulling me to him in a big bear hug.
“That was really fun. I loved your company today,” he said when we reached the car. I smiled and got in for the drive home, thinking all along that I wanted to feel his lips on mine again before the night was through. If he didn’t make the first move, then I was going to jump his bones myself. Not exactly a ladylike thing to do, but, needs must and all that.
Luckily he pulled me to him as soon as we pulled in my driveway, cupping my chin with his soft hands and kissing me passionately, like he thou
ght I would disappear if he let go. The feel of his lips brushing against my own was indescribable; it was as if we were two people meant to be here at this exact moment in time. I couldn’t compare it to any other kiss in my life because every kiss before this had been immature and sloppy, whereas this, well, this was what perfection felt like. The kiss seemed to go on forever and when we finally broke apart; our breathing was ragged and full of passion. I thought about inviting him in, but knew that it would go against my beliefs so I ruffled his hair, as he had done to me when we first kissed, and said “Goodnight, Bayani” before getting out of the car without looking back.
When I got inside my house, I noticed the red light on my answering machine was blinking. I walked over to the counter and pressed play, expecting a message from my mother or Jeanette. It was neither.
“Hello Chickadee, it’s Marisol. I’m not sure how to work this damned thing but I wanted to tell you the party is on for tomorrow night. Come early so we can discuss details. Again, this is Marisol. M-A-R-I-S-O-L.” Obviously, Marisol wasn’t aware of caller ID. She repeated her name and number about three times before finally hanging up.
After listening to the message, I sank down on my sofa and wondered if I was really up to attending a dinner party tomorrow. Yes, I loved the twenties and wanted to be a Flapper – at least I thought I did – but acting out all my lessons was really going to be quite the test. Could I do it? I really wasn’t sure, but I’d have to at least try for Marisol’s sake.
The next day, I got to Marisol’s around 2 in the afternoon and was stunned to find the place decked out with every feasible decoration, including a cigar bar in the left corner of the living room, a photo booth in the lounge and a powder and pearls table near the master bathroom. It was all extremely well thought out and amazing to look at.