And I Was Told

By Aiyana

AN ORDINARY WOMAN'S SPIRITUAL JOURNEY REVEALS THE EXTRAORDINARY!

Cheri Greene is a quirky San Francisco attorney. She meets, and instantly connects with Gabriel Koomowa, a tough police officer of Native American descent. Gabe soon falls seriously ill and Cheri finds herself helping him to survive. Nearing death, he is spontaneously healed, leaving the once logical attorney searching to understand why.

In her quest for answers Cheri discovers that she has paranormal gifts, and has lived many prior lives. She also learns that her purpose in this life is to be a scribe, and write the words given to her by an elevated being cloaked in the valance of a wizened wizard. Words of future prediction and prophesy, and words containing answers to time honored questions of mankind.

AND I WAS TOLD is not just a story. It is a step by step spiritual guide offering channeled ancient records containing insight and predictions of what will be.

"And so In the year 9097, a comet shall collide with the surface of the planet earth destroying it as it is presently known. It shall cease and in its place shall be born the planet earth in what would be viewed as the big bang by most astronomists of your day. . ."

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595852949

Aiyana

Aiyana lives in the San Francisco Bay area with her furry orange companion, and is busy working on the follow up selection AND SO IT WILL BE.

Book preview

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

They had to.

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

EPILOGUE

To Jast, Mr. Goshen, Mr. Godfrey, Eesan, Gabriel, Angel, Grandma, and all the Beings of Light that have ministered and assisted me on my journey. I love and bless you all. Special thanks to Floyd who taught me to see the inner radiance and glory. Greatest thanks to my Father who created the light and the majesty within.

TO KNOW GOOD YOU MUST KNOW EVIL; TO KNOW TRUTH YOU MUST KNOW GOOD AND EVIL; TO REACH CONSCIOUSNESS IS PAINFUL AS ONE MUST SEE THE TRUTH.

Aiyana

PROLOGUE

Open The Window And The Sounds Of Life Will Filter In

I don’t know how this happened. My small apartment has become my world, my world apart from theirs. The windows have become my picture screens capturing the movies of others lives. I do not fit in the film. I am different. I do not belong.

Every morning I take a front row seat and watch the world go by. My furry companion sits on a chair and I sit on the floor next to her. We peer out the dining room window. The living smells of the street waft up to us from below. People are moving and alive. We inhale life. The sounds of the cars and the awakening project through the window screen and fill our ears. We watch and we listen. We do not partake. We observe the world go by.

Today, the sun rises and slowly lifts its blanket from the sleeping San Francisco City. The crickets and birds chirp as the sky lightens. Painted fingers of pink, purple and blue hues signal the coming of the new day. Streets are lined with three to six story apartment buildings varying in size, age, and decor. Some retain their vintage pastel charm while new boxy concrete structures fight for their rightful place. Lights begin to appear in apartment windows. Runners start to pound the pavement. People begin to populate the street; women dressed in work attire and sneakers, men in suits speaking on cell phones, children and teens headed for school. Bus stops become crowded as passengers filter to the corner kiosks. Individuals walk their dogs carrying plastic bags to clean up after their pet. Pedestrians increase, many holding coffee cups advertising the name of one of the trendy shops lining the commercial area a few blocks to the south. They are all busy and on their way somewhere. Their program has started. We are watching. All the world’s a stage.

Remember those diorama boxes we would create as children? A shoe box becoming a world we had designed? The popsicle stick people or plastic toys we used to tell a tale? The true story and the real world were outside the box. And so it is here.

P A R T I

THE CONNECTION

CHAPTER 1

Just Go With The Flow And Take Joy In Each Sunrise, One At A Time...

It was Tuesday, and I was pulling Gertie, my white Honda Civic, into the government building parking lot. Life was good. I had a small law office located near the San Francisco Bay, and had recently entered a contract to provide twenty hours of legal services to the California Superior Courts Family Services Division.

California is very progressive. It’s recognized that seventy percent of people dealing with family and domestic violence situations can’t pay for a lawyer. I’m not surprised. I couldn’t afford to hire me. Understanding this, the State Legislature created the position of Family Law Facilitator. The Facilitator was an attorney who helped unrepresented individuals in these types of cases. They were assisted by non-lawyers working under their direction. My job was to train the non-lawyers, court staff and police officers, and educate the public in these areas. I also didn’t particularly like the practice of law to tell the truth. Rather, the litigious and adversarial aspects. This position avoided it, although I did have to deal with ‘political people’ which I considered a significant draw back. I’m not sure who are worse, lawyers or politicians. I tend not to like either.

So after parking and locking Gertie, I made my way to the Civil Courthouse across the street. I passed through the building’s ground floor metal detectors, and headed straight for the elevators. Squashing into a packed car I got off on the second floor. I was half way down the hallway when I came upon my favorite vending machine and had to stop for a bag of pretzels. Somehow the words Fat Free created the illusion that a product was not bad for you. Low Fat has the same effect on me. Hale the Madison Avenue advertising exec’s slight of hand as we all get fatter. My purchase completed, I continued down the hallway to the Facilitator’s suite of offices. Once there I made my way back to the communal volunteer room. Since office space was scarce, the only spot they had for me was a desk placed in this room. At least the draws locked and I allegedly had the only key.

I said Hello to Barbara, a law student volunteer, upon entering, and asked if Janie was in. She returned my greeting, and said Yes. Janie was the Family Law Facilitator. She was a Louisiana transplant complete with southern drawl. Her old world charm worked wonders with court personnel, Judges included. I put down my brief case, and removed my suit jacket, before going across the hallway. After knocking on Janie’s door, I walked in. She was seated behind her large desk, papers piled everywhere, crooning into the telephone Who’s a good boy? Mama luv you, my little goody, woody boy. She held up her index finger and I knew I was in for another minute of this.

Thanks for waiting Cheri. I’m never going to get used to being away from Joey during the day. Anyway, I’m glad you came in. I was going to leave you a message to stop by.

What’s up? I asked.

I’ve been trying to coordinate our services with the criminal courts at the Hall to expand the information being given.

The Hall is short for the Hall of Justice and where criminal cases are heard in San Francisco. It also houses the district attorney’s office and the main police station. It is located about a mile from City Hall, which is also called the Civic Center, and where the Civil Courts and government buildings are located. The Hall is surrounded by bail bond businesses, twenty-four hour diners, and freeway ramps. South of the Hall is a Micky Dee’s and an all night donut shop. Directly west is the county jail housing the city’s most distinguished attired in orange neon jump suits.

What I’d like is for you to go down to the Hall and speak with some of the folks down there. Find out what their needs are in civil matters in relation to what we do. I foresee maybe your giving a seminar to help train their people in the civil side so that they have more information to provide. It will also better screen the people coming to us.

Ok. Who should I start with?

Try, Susan Flemming at the victim’s program offices. She’ll give you the lay of the land and let you know who else you might want to talk to.

Sounds like a plan. She then handed me Flemming’s telephone number.

I left a voice mail message for Flemming, and finished up some paperwork, before deciding to leave. I was giving a public seminar at six and needed to go to the gym. Sweating out any angst helped get me in top form. As I was slipping on my jacket, Susan Flemming returned my call. We set up a lunch meeting for Friday at noon.

Life was good.

I parked Gertie in the gym parking lot and retrieved my backpack from the trunk. I always try to park in two spots or where the passenger side has no space next to it. Why you may ask? Simple. My passenger door has an invisible bull’s eye painted on it. Every careless driver who parks next to me sees it. This is why my car has numerous scratches and dings, but only on the passenger side. Once I even caught the bozo in the act. He opened his drivers’ side door and banged it right into Gertie. I’d quickly stepped around my car to look and saw a new mark. The guy just shrugged his shoulders, said Sorry and drove off. Personally, I think this should be a serious offense and the penalty should fit the crime. Meaning, the sentence would allow the victim to key the offender’s entire car. Wouldn’t that be nice?

I worked out for more than an hour. After showering I changed back into my suit, and headed to my office. I did inspect Gertie before leaving the lot though. I was pleased to see that there weren’t any new marks. My luck got even better. I found a prime parking spot right across the street from my office building. It didn’t even have a meter. The parking fairies were working overtime.

Hi Mary I called as I walked into the office. Mary is the receptionist who sits behind the elevated desk in the lobby. She is the sentry that you must pass to gain entrance to the inner sanctum. Mary spends her day’s staring out the windows facing the street. She said it was better than her last job where her cubicle faced a wall. Her perspective was a constant reminder to view the glass as half full, and not half empty.

Taking the stack of message slips and fax pages from her, I continued toward my office. Faxes. They are amazing. I have never gotten over the idea that I can slip a document in a machine right in front of me and it could be simultaneously sent and received thousands of miles away. It was truly magic, and must be the result of little fairies working inside all fax machines. I once tried to explain this theory to an opposing counsel while waiting for a hearing in a Judge’s chambers. His only response was to look at me like I was nuts. Granted, most lawyers have no sense of humor, and he did have a sharp stick protruding out the seat of his expensive navy pin stripe suit, but people just don’t seem to have any sense of whimsy and fun anymore.

I considered leaving the office after I had returned a few calls. I really hated being here. It made me feel boxed in and required to act proper. I also felt compelled to work. I knew that I should. The stack of’work to be done’ was getting higher. Of critical importance was the fact that unless I worked, and thereon billed the clients, I didn’t get paid. And although not extravagant, I did not consider food and rent to be luxuries. So back to work I went

I surfaced from the labyrinths of legalese when the telephone rang two hours later. I’d gotten a lot of work done. When you’re in the zone, time just speeds by. The call was from a client who wanted to know whether his papers were completed. I assured him that his documents were in the mail. This was only a small fib since technically they would be before I left. I hung up and filled in my time sheet so I could bill him for the reassurances.

Looking at my watch I decided that I’d been productive enough for the day. It was time to stop. So, after giving Mary the out going mail, and saying goodbye, I headed out the door. A seminar awaits.

I parked at the underground garage across from the Courthouse. It was close, cheap and well lit. After passing through the entrance metal detectors, I rushed upstairs. Mabel, the Family Law Judges clerk, greeted me on the third floor. She let me know that we had a full house tonight and that everything was ready. I glanced in the room and saw the projector and thick information packets, and that the seats were starting to fill. There are usually about twenty-five people attending. I went down the hall to get a can of diet cola from the vending machine. Nothing like the old caffeine buzz to boost one’s energy. After taking a few minutes to compose myself, I walked into the room and began the seminar. Three hours later I finished. I was completely drained, and needed to go home.

Have you ever visited a place and felt a sense of rightness? An inner knowledge that this is where you were supposed to be? I have. Once. When I was in college I visited a friend in San Francisco and felt like I was returning home. I knew then, that this was where I would eventually live. This affinity was not limited to places though. I have had an immediate connection to a few people where I felt like I had known them forever. The reaction was not logical, nor reasonable, but it was real. I jokingly believed that I knew them in a prior life.

I felt better as soon as I pulled up to my apartment building and drove into the garage. I loved where I lived. You could see the San Francisco Bay from my building, and I’m only a few blocks from the wharf. I live on Polk Street off of Lombard. Lombard Street is known for being the supposedly crookedest street in the world. It was a big tourist attraction. Cars lined up for hours to enjoy the sixty second drive which traverses back and forth down one block.

After parking, I closed the garage door and headed upstairs. I didn’t bother with the mail. I used my mailbox like a storage facility and emptied it on Sundays. Why trouble myself when the only things I received were bills, ads, and those irritating credit card applications. Climbing the steps to the third floor, labeled the second because the ground floor doesn’t count for some reason, I entered my apartment. I was greeted by little Chloe. Seeing that it was me, she turned around, arched her back and stretched while raising her butt in the air.

Chloe, you showing me your little booty? I asked. I dropped everything in my hands and grabbed her, before kicking the front door shut. This is a move I have mastered over the last few months. I held her in my arms and told her that I loved her, and how special she was. She started purring immediately. She practically squeaked in ecstasy when I added that she was beautiful. After a minute of this she started to wiggle and I set her down. She could only take so much, and wandered off. My suit was now covered in orange fur. I grabbed the lint remover brush I kept by the door, and wiped my clothes down. Having fought a losing battle with Chloe hair, I have accepted the fact that everything I own is or will be covered in cat fur.

After kicking off my shoes and hanging up my suit, I started a bath pouring large amounts of vanilla bubble bath and herbal salts into the tub. I loved baths. I also loved my apartment. It was in the shape of a rectangle, with a decent sized bedroom and bath in the rear, and a large living room and kitchen with attached dining area in the front. The living room and dining area windows faced Polk Street. It had beautiful hard wood floors and most importantly, it was rent controlled. As I headed into the kitchen, Chloe wrapped herself around my legs and started purring. She knew that it was time for a can of her cat food; Queen Excellence Beef Feast. Despite the royal name, it smelled horrible. Unfortunately it was the only thing that the little princess would eat. You’d think she would get sick of it but she never does, attacking it every day like she has never been fed.

Chloe adopted me about six months ago. I heard something fall and break above the kitchen ceiling and became concerned for Sophie, the elderly tenant who lived above me. I decided to go upstairs and check. It turned out that it was only Angie; Angie being short for Angelina, a four month old cat. She had knocked a glass off the kitchen counter while exploring. Sophie, over lemonade and butter cookies, had taken me into her confidence. Her grandson had given her Angie as a gift so she wouldn’t be lonely when he wasn’t around.

How could I give her up? she had asked. So, even though we’re not supposed to have pets in our building, Sophie and I conspired to keep Angie hidden from the landlord. I would buy cat food for her and bring it upstairs at times I knew the landlord was away. Sophie would repay me with lemonade and butter cookies. I never had the heart to tell her that I really hated lemonade and butter cookies. Despite Sophie’s best efforts, Angie got out when she was almost six months old. The bathroom window screen was slightly ajar and we think that was how she wiggled out. Sophie was beside herself with worry; especially because Angie had not been fixed yet. Ironically, her appointment with the vet was for the following week.

Well, Angie, returned three months later. Pregnant. After she had her litter I started stopping by Sophie’s place to feed the kittens from an eye dropper. They were adorable. It wasn’t helpful when Sophie kept suggesting that I keep one. I reminded her that we were not supposed to have pets. Pishah she would respond. Angie had had five kittens and Sophie had found homes for four. They were all staying with her until weaned at eight weeks. When I was leaving Sophie’s apartment one evening, the little orange one followed me to the front door. Sophie just looked at me and said She already knows who she belongs to. It turned out that this was the only one not already taken. When she followed me the next evening, I just looked at Sophie, threw my hands in the air in surrender and said I give up!

I picked the kitten up and she’d instinctively cuddled under my chin. Seems like you should just take her home Sophie had pronounced. For once I didn’t argue.

So now with Chloe trailing behind me, I wandered back to the bathroom, and shut off the faucet. After lighting some candles I sank into the tub. Ahh-hhh. Chloe was lying nearby having already looked at me with a quizzical expression conveying What are you doing? It’s wet in there. I blew some bubbles towards her and she jumped up to hit them with her paw. I laughed. The stress of the day quickly washed away and I realized that life was good.

Later, when I slipped into bed, Chloe soon joined me. She jumped up onto the blankets and turned in a circle before settling at my feet.

Life really was good.

CHAPTER 2

It was noon on Friday, and I was on my way to my meeting with Susan Flem-ming at the Hall. As I passed through the ground floor metal detectors, I noticed the cops milling around with their air of self-importance. I reflected that this was not a place that I would like to work. There is a pall on the building. Everything feels and looks grimy. Probably because the seamier side of life gets exposed here. A part of life most people only read about in newspapers or watched on television, making it seem unreal and more colorful through the media’s distorted lens. I think it’s also the presence of the cops and their guns. They don’t really make me feel safe. They make me feel uncomfortable, which is why I quickly headed straight to the elevators and upstairs to Flemming’s office.

Knock, knock I said as I tapped on Flemming’s open office door. Flem-ming turned out to be a heavy set, middle aged woman with pancake makeup and the raspy voice of a smoker. She wore a multi-colored jewel toned shirt under a navy skirted suit. Her stockinged thighs rubbed as she got up and walked the few steps to greet me. After shaking my hand she invited me to take a seat in one of the institutional grey chairs in front of her desk. For the next ten minutes I was apprised of the workings of the Hall’s programs for domestic violence and violent crime offenses. I diligently took notes and paused only when she stopped to answer the telephone. After ending the call she grabbed her purse from a desk draw, and suggested introducing me to the people she thought I should know.

I agreed, and followed Flemming down the hallway. We entered an office near the end and walked around the reception counter. The once large space had been dissected into several offices and cubicles. Flemming proceeded to introduce me to various people whose names I would never remember. With a smile plastered on my face, I shook hands and said Hello.

Ten minutes later we left the office and were deciding where to have lunch. It was then that I noticed a tall light skinned black man striding down the hallway in our direction. He was a very handsome man in his late thirty’s. Close cropped dark hair, and broad cheekbones revealed a multi-racial heritage. He was dressed in a flannel shirt, worn blue jeans, and an attitude of impatience. Flemming waved and called him over. Seeing who it was, he slowed down and smiled. Impatience was still in his eyes, but there was also a bit of humor.

Gabe, before you run away, I’d like you to meet Cheri. She is an attorney working with the Family Courts over at City Hall doing seminars and assisting with trainings. She’s come to see if we could use her help down here. Gabriel Koomowa, Cheri Greene. Gabe is in the inner city Tenderloin task force and deals with drugs, gangs, homicides, you name it.

Nice to meet you, Gabe I said. Gabe nodded hello before turning to Flem-ming and asking her if she was going to the dinner for the District Attorney.

Yes, part of my job. I must have looked puzzled for Flemming continued and said that I probably had an invitation at the Courthouse. The dinner was to congratulate the new DA and promote his plans for the upcoming term.

Really? Sounds great. I said and smiled. Gabe was watching me and I suspected he could tell that I didn’t mean it. We smiled at each other and then I knew he knew I didn’t mean it. A kindred spirit in this matter.

Well, it was nice meeting you Gabe said as he turned to leave.

And you I responded.

Gabe strode away down the hallway, and Flemming and I went to lunch. The meal was one of those occasions where I made a lot of small talk while my mind worked a list of things I needed to do. Number one was deciding what I would wear on my date with James tonight. I had recently broken up with John after nearly two years together. I don’t know why it took me so long. I knew I’d never marry him, yet I stayed. I think when the sex is good, and you’re comfortable, it’s hard to leave. There is also the hope that the person you are with will miraculously turn into the person that you really want. Then again, did I mention that the sex was really good?

I also know that I have a fear of commitments. They make me feel trapped. When I was in my first year of law school I started seeing David. He asked me to marry him after we’d been dating about a year. My initial reaction was that I wanted to throw up. And no I did not tell him this. My answer, being a lawyer in training, was to offer him a lease with an option to renew each year. This way we would be together only if we really wanted to be and not because we were legally bound and forced. Needless to say he was not pleased with my response and more than a little hurt. My inability to commit was a significant reason why our relationship never worked. I always left myself an out.

Anyway, Mary waited two weeks after my split with John before telling me about James. He was a partner in a law firm, and Mary used to be his secretary. She really pushed for him. I finally relented and said she could give him my telephone number. He called a few days later and asked me to dinner. I said yes, and gave him my address. He would be coming by at seven to pick me up. When I told Mary, she was ecstatic. I had not realized what a matchmaker she was.

James was punctual and showed up with a white rose. He was also incredibly good looking, even though he was blond. I tend to prefer dark men, but I never said I wasn’t willing to compromise. We enjoyed a nice dinner. When he brought me home, he walked me to my front door, and hugged me. He also let me know that he had a good time and would like to see me again. I was amazed. Handsome, intelligent, open about his feelings, and not trying to hustle me into bed. I reported back to Mary on Monday. All she did was look at me with a self satisfied smirk that conveyed ‘I told you so’.

And so I began dating James.

About a week after I met Gabe I ran into him at my favorite coffee shop near the Courthouse. It’s called the Coffeerama, and is thankfully not a chain.

Well hello there Gabe called in greeting.

Hi yourself. Isn’t this the best coffee place by the Courthouse? I gushed.

Well, your love of this place has just cancelled out your minus for being a lawyer.

Has it now. Hmmmm, good to know. We both smiled and he gestured toward a table by the window.

So how’s it going with Susan? he asked.

Oh, fine. She has a bunch of projects she thinks I would be well suited for. I really enjoy teaching and doing trainings, but the schmoozing stuff she wants me to do will be a challenge.

Schmoozing?

Oh, attend a few meetings with the right people. Not in the job description, but unavoidable.

I’m sure you’ll make the best of it. I went to a fundraiser last week, to meet and greet ‘the faces’ so I could support this youth group I really believe in. The only good part was when this guy started making lawyer jokes.

Gabe seemed to hesitate but when I said I looove lawyer jokes he smiled and launched in.

Well then, how about the one where a lawyer and a doctor were driving on a country road late one night and collided. The lawyer seeing that the doctor was really shaken from the accident, helped him from his car and offered him a drink from his hip flask. The doctor accepted, thanked him, and took a big swig before handing the flask back to the lawyer. The lawyer closed the flask and put it away. Confused, the doctor asked if the lawyer wasn’t also going to have a drink. The lawyer said Sure, after the police leave."

Very funny I said before looking at my watch. Oh no, its 8:45 a.m. I’m going to be late. Gotta go. I grabbed my brief case and coffee cup, and raced out waving good-bye.

Four days later I ran into Gabe at City Hall. I was heading upstairs when I spotted him near the elevators.

Hello there I greeted him.

Well, hello yourself. Late again?

Very funny. No. I’m actually usually on time. I just got side tracked by the coffee and company.

We both smiled and began walking toward the elevators. Gabe then turned toward me and asked So have you heard the one where an old man wanted to be buried with his money? I shook my head no, so Gabe continued.

He called his lawyer, doctor and priest and had them come to his home. He gave each one an envelope with thirty thousand dollars in cash which they were to place in his coffin to be buried with him. The old man died a few months later, and at his funeral, they each put their envelope in his casket. Later, while driving back from the cemetery together, the priest told the other two that he had to confess. There was only twenty thousand dollars in his envelope because he used ten thousand for the rectory. The doctor then spoke up and confessed that his envelope only contained ten thousand dollars because he had used twenty thousand to buy an x-ray machine for the free clinic. The lawyer then informed both gentlemen that he was ashamed of them. His envelope contained his personal check for thirty thousand dollars.

I laughed, the elevator pinged, and we walked into the elevator car. After pushing the button for my floor, I asked Gabe whether he was going to the DA dinner.

Yeah, I have to go.

Yeah, well see you there I said as the elevator doors opened at my floor.

See you he responded.

I waved and headed down the hall already preoccupied with preparing the armor for my court battle with opposing counsel.

CHAPTER 3

It was Thursday night, and the dinner for the new DA. I was dressed in a chic black wool skirt and jacket, and royal blue silk shirt. My long hair was pulled back in a French twist. High heeled sling backs completed the ensemble. After arriving at the hotel I located the reception table, signed in, and applied my tacky pre-glued name tag. Looking up I recognized several people and started the pretend Hello and How are you? greetings, shmoozing my way into and around the room. I was speaking with a fifty something attorney who was a partner at blah, blah, and blah—at least that is what I heard—when I saw Gabe. I quickly exchanged cards with the attorney, and said that I would love to do lunch. Leaving him, I started walking across the room. Gabe had apparently also spotted me, and we met mid-way.

So, how’s it going? he asked.

Great. I am as pleased to be here as you. He looked at me and we both smiled. He actually was looking quite attractive in a navy blue double breasted suit, crisp white shirt and maroon and yellow tie. You clean up really well, my friend. If I didn’t know better I would think you were one of the liars here I joked.

Liars?

Oops, slip of the tongue. We both smiled again. He seemed to get my rather silly sense of humor and understood that there was no slip.

So where are you sitting? he asked.

I don’t know.

I do, follow me. Gabe walked amongst the tables until he found my name card and switched it with the one next to his, placing his former dining companion in my old seat.

Brilliant. You just saved me.

Ahhhhh, so now you owe me.

Really? I questioned sardonically.

People had started to trickle into the dining room from the hallway meet and greet area. The DA’s toady stepped up to the podium, and after shocking all our ears with a microphone shriek, told us to please find our seats so that we could begin. The self-serving speeches soon started. I was trying not to go cross eyed, but it was hard. These kind of things make me itchy. Itchy to leave. I turned toward Gabe to see how he was faring and saw that he was having as hard a time as I was. He kept changing his body position every minute or two.

After thirty long minutes I leaned over and whispered Wanna blow this popsicle stand? There’s a dive bar around the corner on Market and Montgomery with a red neon sign. Five minutes?

Gabe turned to me and smiled. It was at that moment that I realized the weird connection we had. A sense of comfortableness with no reason to justify it. I chalked it up as one of those times where I have met someone and connected with them on a ‘cellular level’. You just like them and feel like you have known them forever. And although Gabe was certainly very good looking, I did not have any romantic feelings for him. It was like he was my buddy, or brother. All this seemed to go through my mind in an instant. Between the time he smiled, and when I stood up and pushed back my chair to leave. I never bothered to look back. I knew Gabe would soon follow.

As soon as I made it to the hallway I pulled out the flip flops in my purse. I quickly exchanged them for the stylish but foolish heels I had been wearing. Wiggling my toes I felt a million times better.

A few minutes later I felt Gabe’s presence next to me. Did ya make a clean break? I asked.

Mostly. My Captain saw me sneak out, but I bet he wished he could leave also. Nice outfit, by the way. I could hear the smile in his voice.

You try wearing these torture devices. My shoes were dangling from my hands.

Yes, maam. I could still hear the smile in Gabe’s voice. What I didn’t mention before was that my flip flops were bright fuchsia with multi-color sequins and my toe nails were polished bright red. I thought my feet looked happy.

When we reached the The Hustler bar, I let