I couldn't help but wonder if you'd noticed me.
There was no way fate, as unpredictable, corny, and lovesick as it may be, would have led me to someone who was oblivious to my existence.
No, you saw me, just as I saw you.
I saw you that morning that you ran out into the rain to get the mail, wearing just your husband's t-shirt and a pair of flip flops. I wondered how you felt being the sole supplier of the mail when you had a seemingly fully capable husband in the household whom, from my very limited knowledge, appears to be unemployed. Not calling the bastard a loser, but it doesn't seem harsh to expect that the least he could do was get the mail.
Perhaps I'm just old fashioned. I'd ever make you go out in the rain, first thing in the morning, to get mail. I'd also never allow you to carry the groceries into the house by yourself. It's bad enough that you're the one bringing home the bacon but to literally be the one bringing in the bacon is sad, verging on sickening. I mean no one as beautiful as you should be relegated to such a duty.
I'm pretty sure you feel the way I do. Sometimes I catch you looking out of the window over to my house with Love, and I can see the longing in your eyes. At first I wasn't sure if the longing was just for a better life, or if you were longing for me, but after our first meeting, I'm now quite sure it's the latter.
You were once again yanking plastic bags out of the trunk of your car. I knew you'd had a rough day simply because the bags you were carrying were from Trader Joe's. But you yourself were a part of the Trader Joe's boycott after the transgender woman filed a case against the company for allegedly firing her due to her transition. To any ignorant person, probably to your husband, that makes you a hypocrite. 'Let's boycott Trader Joe's for being intolerant bigots...until I have a bad da at work and don't feel like driving the 15 miles out of the way to get to a Kroger'. But not me. I know you better than that. I know that had the guy you'd probably been coerced into marrying was even partially pulling his weight in your household, you wouldn't feel so forced as to compromise your beliefs for the sake of convenience. You were only trying to protect yourself.
You see, unlike your husband, I've taken the time to understand who you are at your core. When your mail from VAMPCO was mistakenly placed in my mailbox, I learned that your name is Josephine Baker, undoubtedly a clever name in your mother's mind at the time. Maybe she was a fan of the actress because of her biopic of which I've never seen, or maybe it was because Josephine Baker was a dancer.
Yeah, that's it.
It was the whole dancer thing. Your mother, God rest her soul, was a dance teacher in Harlem, NY. Your IG stories were filled with classic videos of your mother in her prime. You take after her a lot. Your Instagram is captivating, but even it is no match for the totality of who you are in person. From just the few times I quickly skimmed through your social media, I learned about our Trader Joe's boycott, your dancer mother, I learned that your husband does not like to be recorded when he's playing video games like a prepubescent teen, I learned that you enjoy spoken word and wine, and above all else, I learned that we're destined. What are the odds that two former New Yorkers would meet and live directly next to each other?
This was destiny calling. When I saw you yanking the Trader Joe's bags out of your trunk, it was as if God himself, the cynical bastard, caused you to drop one of the bags on the concrete pavement of your driveway. I heard the expletive part your pink fluffy lips, and I watched as you looked around awkwardly to make sure no one had seen your misfortune...
But I had.
I ran out quickly to your aid, and at first you didn't even notice me. It wasn't until I knelt down in front of you and grabbed the now ripped carton of broken egg shells that you looked up at me and chuckled.
"Ironic that I suddenly have butter fingers, and butter is the ONE thing that I forgot at the store." your voice was slightly raspy, almost as if you were hoarse.
"Butter?" I repeated in faux-disbelief. "You're definitely not a California girl."
"What gave it away?" You took the carton from me and smiled. "Thanks, by the way." You stood up straight, conveniently allowing a hint of your cleavage to show through. Your silver locket dropped perfectly in its crease, and you pulled back your jet black hair and then took a deep breath. "I'm probably a few weeks behind here, but welcome to the neighborhood. We'll just pretend that this meeting is actually me ringing your doorbell and handing you a perfectly baked store-bought angel food cake that I'll pass off as homemade."
Your smile revealed your teeth that were aligned so strategically, almost as if they were false, but they weren't. Your hair was a stark contrast to your pale blue eyes.
"I'll take it." I told you, with a casual shrug. "I'm Joe, by the way."
Your eyes glimmered and widened for a brief moment, almost as if you were intrigued, and then you chuckled again. "Well that's a coincidence. I'm Josephine, but everyone calls me Joey."
It was then that I heard a voice from my porch. "Joe...did you move the step ladder again?"
Love's voice, though sometimes calm and soothing was no match for yours. In fact, I hadn't noticed how annoying her voice could be until that very moment. I turned around to her. "It's uhh, it's in the laundry room." I responded, before correcting myself. "And I thought we discussed this. You're like 14 months pregnant, so no ladders for you."
I saw Love smile a little, but I also noticed the subtle shift in her eyes as she studied you. She looked you up and down for a brief mili-second and then with a polite nod, she greeted you.
And there you were, with all of your unknowing cordiality, waving your hand, seemingly excited to finally get to formally meet your new neighbors.
"Well, I should get back, Joey." I didn't want to.
She smiled. "Pleasure meeting ou, Joe without the Y."
The fact that Joe has no Y in the first place was enough to make me giggle at her silliness. I turned to walk away from you; I didn't want to, but I knew there was more to come of this. Fate wouldn't have brought you to me only to rip us apart.