Sometimes the best things in life are found when and where you least expect them.
I learned this on an October afternoon in the middle of midterm season, while taking my virtual Italian class at Blue State. I was sporting leggings, old sneakers, and an oversized sweatshirt that I had worn to bed the past three nights. My hair was pulled up in a knotted bun to conceal my bed head, and I definitely had poppyseeds in my teeth from my everything bagel. So when I locked eyes with a dashingly handsome six foot three boy who had just walked inside, I quickly burrowed my head back into my computer and carried on with my opinions about lo stile unico di Fellini.
After a heated debate on Italian film and working through a few readings, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out of the coffee shop. To my surprise, the same pair of emerald green eyes that had captured my attention hours before were waiting for me outside. The boy approached me, told me I was the cutest girl he had ever seen in his life, and asked to get coffee with me. Blushing and nervously fiddling with my charm necklace, I gave him my number, and we made plans to meet back at the same spot on Sunday morning.
We picked up coffees and strolled along the Providence river, dead leaves crunching under our feet as we chatted. He graduated from Harvard last year and is living here for the time being while he remotely pursues a PhD in machine learning. His current cerebral challenge was to determine if a ten second snippet of a person’s EKG can predict unexpected cardiac arrest in the ensuing six month period. When I remarked that I could tell he was a Harvard graduate, he became embarrassed, and tried to backtrack by explaining how his peers in his PhD program were far brighter than him. His intelligence was attractive, and his humility was endearing.
On our second date, he took me to drinks at Baccaro. The conversation flowed effortlessly as we made our way through a bottle of wine and an apple tart. He told me about his experience rowing in high school and college, his childhood and family dynamics, his past romances and heartbreaks. I told him about my courses, my time as a ballerina, and navigating the complexities of growing up. Any clumsiness in his dialogue was followed by a remark on how my beauty was “distracting” for him and a rosy blush that made his green eyes glow.
Afterwards, he took my hand and brought me to a small, concealed dock along the Providence River where he occasionally rows. He put his coat down for me to sit on, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me in the still darkness. The subsequent dates were equally romantic: dinners, drives to the beach, stargazing, late night walks overlooking the Providence skyline. It was all so clichèd that it felt paradoxically genuine.
My biggest fear came to fruition, that this romance was too good to be true. I was crushed when he left Providence to drive across the country for the rest of the year to escape the New England frostbite. He ditched his smartphone for a flip phone and set out with no plan other than to explore the warm territories of the South and the West, working on his PhD while on the road. To my delight, he kept his iMessage account to send me enticing updates of his journey with the intention of convincing me to join him along the way. On our final date before he left, as my head lay on his chest, we agreed that chance brought us together and would hopefully work in our favor again.
I still take my virtual Italian classes at Blue State, but now, every time someone walks through the doors, I instinctively look up from my reading, hoping that my glance will be met with his pair of sweet green eyes. I wonder where those eyes are now, whether they are looking down at the Grand Canyon or up at the Yosemite cliffs. If I had it my way, they’d be back here, looking at me in Blue State once again.