(Sunday Evening – August 2, 2015)
For as
long as I can remember, Sunday evenings always brought on a slight case of the
blues for me. I think it’s because I
never wanted the weekend fun to end. And
when Sunday evening hit, it meant the weekend was over…time to get back to
school work when I was younger, or time to get ready for work on Monday when I
was an adult.
Ding. Ding.
Two emails on my cell phone. My
friend was sending me some notes for a project we had been discussing. The first email contained the notes I
expected. The subject line in the second
email read: Sunday Night Blues? This will
perk you up! Upon opening the
second message, I discovered it was an advertisement for a weekend getaway at a
hotel on Embassy Row in Washington DC. I
figured my friend sent me the ad because one of the chapters in my book, A Rose for Sergei, is titled “Embassy
Row.” It wasn’t from her! This random ad struck me as rather
strange. It was as if someone knew I had
the Sunday blues and sent me a message, picking up on my thoughts.
With
that in mind, below is a short excerpt from my book. Please note my coworkers called me “Sam!”
*
* *
A Rose for Sergei
Chapter 13
Embassy
Row
Fall
1972
When Sergei
returned, I offered to pick him up from the Christian Fellowship House in
Washington DC. The expensive cab fare
back and forth to my apartment in Arlington was adding up quickly, and I wanted
to try and help out a little. The
problem was I never drove in DC unless it was a dire emergency, which
translated to I didn’t know my way around at all. I had only ventured a trip there alone once,
maybe twice, before. I dreaded driving
there because I was sure I would get lost.
And when I get lost I panic. And
when I panic all common sense flies out the window. Yes, I dreaded driving there…but the reward
would be well worth it. Seeing Sergei
was a dire emergency in my mind because I missed him tremendously.
My friends and
coworkers knew I never drove in DC, and we often joked about it. They always offered to drive, and I was
grateful to them. Mr. Logie [my boss]
knew I would be picking Sergei up after work on Friday and he went over the
directions with me several times, assuring me that I would not get lost.
“Sam, it’s easy
to get there from Rosslyn,” Mr. Logie explained. “You just take the Roosevelt Bridge into
DC. I know you know where that is! You will swing around the Kennedy Center and
it’s not much further past that. Sergei
is staying in a nice part of town right by Embassy Row. You won’t get lost.”
I was a clock
watcher all day on Friday, and 5:00 couldn’t come fast enough. I was really anxious to see Sergei, and my
stomach was jumbled in knots. With Mr.
Logie’s words of encouragement and my resolution to face my fears, I jumped
into my Mustang and headed into DC. I
was glad there was still a little bit of daylight left as I veered onto the
Roosevelt Bridge, over the Potomac River and into the District. Friday traffic was horrible, almost complete
gridlock. I was oddly thankful for that
though since I didn’t know where I was going and it gave me time to read my
notes from Mr. Logie and time to find my bearings. I passed the Kennedy Center and then the
Watergate buildings. Not too much further, I thought. I reminded myself what an amazing, wonderful
historic city it really was in an effort to steady my “I am sure I am getting
lost” nerves.
Without a single
wrong turn or mix up I finally arrived on the right street and was relieved
when I was able to find a fairly close parking spot near the Christian
Fellowship House. Before I got out of
the car I took a minute to check my surroundings. As I sat there, looking up and down the
street, I suddenly realized that the sun had set and that it was now totally
dark. I had been so concerned about
finding my way through the crazy traffic that I totally forgot that it would be
nightfall when I arrived. What I thought
just a short while ago was an “amazing city” had somehow morphed into a very
scary “dark part of the city.” For some
reason, I have always been afraid of the dark…a carryover from my
childhood. I glanced at the secluded
sidewalks and streets from my car and didn’t see anyone anywhere. There were hardly any cars driving by
either. This is so ridiculous. With
a burst of newfound confidence, I hopped out of the car.
Early winter was
definitely in the air, and you could feel the cold blustery winds rolling in
from the north. A sudden strong gust of
wind whipped my long hair across my face temporarily blinding me. I pulled up my hood to keep my hair out of my
eyes as I hugged my wool midi-coat close to me to fend off the evening
chill. I quickly looked around again
then ran down the street in my high heels, leaping up the steps to the
Fellowship House. I didn’t care how safe
Mr. Logie told me this part of the city was.
Walking, or in my case running, down a dark secluded street alone at
night in a big city was literally my worst nightmare.
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