Page 16 of Isn't She Lucky
That was the last day I saw Giada.
I tried everything in my power to see her again. I had my mother talk to Ms. Gardner, inquiring about Giada’s whereabouts. I asked Ms. Gardner myself where Giada was. She said Giada had herownfriends at school – kids she got along with who she could relate to more than me – and she was busy with them.
Those words crushed me.
Was I not her friend? We were close. How could she relate to them more than she could to me? How do you just up and decide to no longer associate with someone whom you were tight with for so long? Like, completely ghost them? It was like I didn’t matter anymore. Like she’d moved on and in the process, she left me damaged. It was the first time as a teen that I cried. I felt like my universe had been snatched from beneath me, and nothing could replace it. Nothing could replaceher.
And nothing or no one ever did.
I tried. I went through a phase where I dated casually, searching for a woman I could connect with on the same level I had once connected with Giada. Most of them were feelingme, but I couldn’t feel anything. Didn’t matter how beautiful the woman was. Howperfectmy homies thought she was. I just wasn’t feeling it. Giada Gardner ruined me for anyone else. Her presence lingered with me long after she disappeared from my life. And that kiss – it still lives rent-free in my mind and on my lips.
That’s why I found myself at the auction. The bachelors were given pictures of the women who would be participating. I saw her picture – that beautiful face and those beautiful eyes I will never forget – and I knew this was my way back into her life.
And boy, did it feel good being in her presence again after a fourteen-year drought.
Yes, she may have turned down my proposal, but I won’t stop until I get what I want.
And I want her.
I need her.
I’m not going through life with any other woman by my side. It’s just not going to happen.
I sigh as I take out my wallet, pulling out the black card to cover the $1,800 check while figuring out my next move. I’ll just have to get her friend, Diedra, to work a little harder to get her friend to accept my offer. Turns out, she works at a subsidiary of Noble Industries, and I knew she was good friends with Giada because of her social media. Pictures of them together decorated her feed. So, I reached out to explain who I was, and apparently Giada had mentioned me to Diedra at some point because she knew who I was without me having to go into too much detail. In fact, it was Diedra who helped me get Giada to the auction because she knows how much Giada means to me. She knew about the proposition, too, but she thought Giada would go for it. She was wrong about that.
I take out my phone and find our original text message string:
Kasim: Hey, Diedra, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help again. Giada didn’t accept my proposal.
Diedra: Oh crap.
Kasim: Yeah, tell me about it…
Diedra: I’m with her right now. What do you want me to do?
Kasim: Convince her to consider my proposition...tell her how a million dollars could change her life.
Diedra: You offered her a million dollars!
Kasim: I did.
Diedra: why?
Kasim: Because I thought it would be enough for her to agree on the spot, but she looked disgusted when she walked away from me.
Diedra: okay. I’ll do what I can. you better love her as much as you say you do. I don’t want my friend to get hurt.
Kasim: I never stopped loving her.
4.
Diedra is onthe phone with her legs spread across my couch like she lives here now. I’m glad she’s here because last night was crazy, and I have to tell her about the ridiculousness that happened during my dinner with Kasim. At the same time, I’m curious about how hers went. Hopefully, one of us had a good time because while mine started out promising, it ended in disappointment.
Should I be surprised, though? That’s how it ended all those years ago, too.
After popping two bags of Pop Secret and dumping them into a big white bowl, I take the bowl to the living room, then return to the kitchen to grab the pitcher of hard lemonade and a couple of glasses. I move her legs out of the way and take a seat onmysofa that she thinks is all hers.
“Oh, my bad,” she says, texting like a pro. I’ve never seen anyone text as fast as this girl. She’s faster than most teenage girls with them twenty-nine-year-old thumbs.
