i want you to meet two people, part 1
Sunday, August 31st, 2008Have you ever had news important enough to require deliberation and concentrated effort before you felt it was ready to reach the world? I’ve had such news lately. I’ve had it for 2 weeks and am only now going to take a shot at telling it.
Four weeks ago, I took a trip to the dentist. This trip involved 90 minutes of driving because I haven’t changed dentists from the hometown to my current residency. After that, certain people expected me to return to Blacksburg. I made some feeble, fabricated excuses and drove somewhere else.
Once I arrived in Charlotte—did you know, there were fewer than 10 turns necessary to go from Lynchburg, VA, to Charlotte, NC, Southpark Mall?—I went straight for a certain shop. After a few weeks of communication, I was finally meeting him. No, this was not some romantic rendezvous, but rather a meeting for business. Important business.
No, I did not require the use of an assassin, a drug dealer, or an emergency accounting consultation. I needed to buy an engagement ring. Fortunately, I had already picked out the ring, making the effort of “shopping around” something I could save for less important purchases, like bike gear or computer add-ons.
The man I met is named Vincent. He had searched through an expansive database for the type of ring I was hoping for and grabbed several to match my list of wants as closely as possible. Once we looked through the selection he gleaned for me, I narrowed it down to the 2 I was already anticipating choosing from. Looking at them side-by-side provided little differentiation, but, when modeled by another [female] salesperson—thanks for doing that, by the way—there was a minor distinguishing feature of one over the other. I took some time to contemplate the situation.
When I announced my decision, he said, “Are you sure?” Despite giving me a look neither of disbelief nor of salesman-like confidence, his question pierced in a way that made me review and consider the time I had spent with the person this engagement ring would be going to. My pause encouraged him to take another inquiring stance, “Have you eaten yet?” My Subway late-lunch was digesting, yes, but I admitted to wanting a coffee. After informing me of the Starbucks nearby, he said he’d be around when I got back.
I ordered the usual—venti iced coffee. Taking it away from the chaos of that Friday afternoon franchise, I sat down on a food court chair. Almost 2 years of posts, digital encounters, and, now, days together flashed before my eyes. I thought back to the very first postcard she sent me. The dinosaur with the speech bubble shyly saying, “hello”. I remembered, with vibrant clarity, our first conversation on the phone and the uncanny second-nature of the talk, even though we had never before heard the other’s voice. Sitting in that food court chair, I remembered returning from my first visit to Atlanta and proudly changing our facebook status to “In A Relationship” from being friends before. And the way I smiled when around her (but not in front of the camera—I’ll adjust to that eventually). And how I knew that there was simply no one else I could imagine myself spending the rest of my life with.
With a half-emptied iced coffee, I took the steps back in the direction of the shop. Vincent met me and I told him what I wanted to get. I followed up with, “I’m sure.” And I was. 100%. Another half hour later, I was leaving the Southpark Tiffany’s with a beautiful Tiffany-blue bag, containing a ring, some documentation, and some extra Tiffany’s ribbon should I need it.
I was incredibly thankful for Vincent’s help, his inquisition, and his patience. He was setting me up with a ring that would change my life. And, I was on my way back to Blacksburg with a ring in the passenger seat that made me smile with each look over at it.