A few weeks before my sister’s wedding, (while sitting in my SUV) Sonodoro produced a tiny box from his pocket. In it was another ring, but this one had a stone! He told me it would have to do until he could afford a diamond.
My quick logic was:
- We’re a pretty new couple; this can’t be a proposal.
- He’s not on one knee; this can’t be a proposal.
- It’s not a diamond; this can’t be a proposal.
I accepted (this non-proposal).
While helping with the wedding preparation in Connecticut, my parents seeing this ring paired with the previous ring Sonodoro gave me, they thought we were married. I told them we weren’t married or engaged. At the time, I believed we weren’t engaged. But, looking ten years into the past, I can no longer say with certainty we weren’t engaged.
Growing up in rural Connecticut seeing someone who wasn’t White was like seeing a rainbow. It happens, it just doesn’t happen that much. My parents knew there was a larger world beyond the tiny town of 2,000— They taught my sister and me to love everyone. And, we did. She married a Jew and I brought my Guatemalan boyfriend to her wedding.
IT WAS AWESOME.
Prior to traveling to Connecticut for my sister’s wedding, I had a hateful job at a European Canadian co-Production company. I took the job, with the caveat I needed two weeks off in June to help my sister with her wedding. They agreed.
On the morning of my first day back, the boss called from his home in the hills. The temp answered, and the conversation went something like, “No, (name) I’m not going to do it… You do it.”
After a couple rounds of her telling the boss this phrase, she eventually passed the phone over to me. The boss fired me.
Like an idiot I stayed that day to train the temp (aka my replacement) on additional responsibilities of the desk. The end of my working tenure ended only a few weeks before I expected as I was planning on leaving when my job as a page at Paramount Pictures started.
The time off was good; It let my ulcer heal and I was able to exercise to lose the stress weight. One of these days I got a call from my parents. My grandfather died during heart surgery. They told me to stay in Los Angeles, citing I had just seen my grandfather in happier times and since I had just lost my job I should save my money.
I decided to walk to the grocery store. This would give me time to clear my head.
Sonodoro came over for dinner. That night was similar to the rest of the nights he came for dinner; he asked to help. As always, I had him wash my pots. (It worked with PK, and it seemed like a worthy test of any man wanting to date me.)
A ghetto bird chirped outside my window. I didn’t notice; Sonodoro had to point it out to me. It was moments like this he seemed to enjoy teasing me about how nonchalant I became with my surroundings. I think he even found it endearing. I thought of myself like Daphne from Devil in a Blue Dress, I was able to traverse between two worlds. For me, these worlds were rural Connecticut and Los Angeles.
On this particular night he regaled me with what he saw early in the morning on his way to his 7am shift: He saw a pimp driving a car down Sunset Blvd (at Alexandria) tailing two of his employees. The pimp informed them he was just released from jail and they needed to come back and work for him. Sonodoro said the employees looked like a pinball as they darted back and forth across the road.
Sonodoro never elaborated if the pimp was trying to run the girls over or if he was just trying to talk with them and they were afraid and were avoiding the conversation.
I thought the story was charming. One could even argue that it gave my neighborhood character.
Having seen where I grew up, (it was a lot like Mayberry), during dinner, Sonodoro pointed out our differences. He reminded me he ran through the LA Riots to get home from school. He liked my childhood. He didn’t like where I lived now and he he didn’t like I was accustomed to living in a rough area. (It was only rough-ish.) He didn’t feel safe having me live there and he didn’t feel safe coming to visit me. He to pointed to chipped and bent door and doorframe, where someone used a crowbar to enter the apartment. Now, the gap allowed light from the hall to enter. He pointed out all our differences. Then he asked me to move in with him into his apartment in suburban Glendale.
Part of Sonodoro’s rationale for moving in together was so I could work part time at Paramount and write the rest of the time. It was a sweet gesture he believed in my creativity so much. I wasn’t sure about this. We had only been dating four months and I was still getting to know him. But, we got along very well and my family liked him. I had a key to Sonodoro’s place already. (A gift that happened in the first two weeks.) Despite our familiarity, I needed time to think.
I went grocery shopping.
I was at the Von’s in Glendale when I ran into the son of a college professor. He was living in Glendale with his fiancée. I told him what was happening and that Sonodoro invited me to move in with him. His advice, “you seem like you’re in love; go for it.”
And, I did.