The one woman, p.1
The One Woman, page 1
The One Woman
Laura May
Copyright © 2022 by Laura May
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses provided by copyright law.
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ISBN: paperback 978-1-956183-80-1
Ebook 978-1-956183-69-6
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022939021
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Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used factiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
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Cover Design by Diana TC, triumphcovers.com
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First Printing Edition 2022
Published by Creative James Media
Pasadena, MD 21122
Contents
Chapter 1
Julie
Chapter 2
Julie
Chapter 3
Ann
Chapter 4
Julie
Chapter 5
Ann
Chapter 6
Julie
Chapter 7
Ann
Chapter 8
Julie
Chapter 9
Ann
Chapter 10
Julie
Chapter 11
Ann
Chapter 12
Julie
Chapter 13
Ann
Chapter 14
Julie
Chapter 15
Ann
Chapter 16
Julie
Chapter 17
Ann
Chapter 18
Julie
Chapter 19
Ann
Chapter 20
Julie
Chapter 21
Julie
Chapter 22
Ann
Chapter 23
Julie
Chapter 24
Ann
Chapter 25
Julie
Chapter 26
Julie
Chapter 27
Julie
Chapter 28
Julie
Chapter 29
Julie
Chapter 30
Ann
Chapter 31
Julie
Chapter 32
Julie
Chapter 33
Ann
Chapter 34
Julie
Chapter 35
Ann
Chapter 36
Julie
Chapter 37
Julie
Chapter 38
Julie
Chapter 39
Julie
Chapter 40
Julie
Chapter 41
Julie
Chapter 42
Julie
Chapter 43
Julie
Chapter 44
Ann
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To all the books that came before.
Chapter 1
Julie
"Did you pack your passport?" Mark asked.
I had never once forgotten it, but he always inquired.
"And the money? Charger?"
"Yes, all packed," I replied.
"I'm going to miss you." Mark wrapped his hand around me and kissed my forehead, then my lips. My fingertips brushed his light brown hair for a fleeting moment, but I let go. It was a quick kiss since we were at the airport, and it was not a place to make a scene. Not that we made them anymore.
"I'll be back soon."
I looked in his green eyes and I already missed him. But it was only for three days.
It was my first solo trip without him I'd be taking since our three-year relationship started, we always traveled together.
I grabbed my blue suitcase and hauled it to the security check. The airport was crowded today; families with kids and grandparents were hurrying to their charter flights. Moms' and dads' faces were red from excitement, already getting ready for a week in Egypt or Turkey with a swish of vodka or whiskey from a Duty-Free store. And the constant announcements of the departures and changing gates tried to be heard among the clamor.
The air inside was suffocating, pressing on my chest. A mighty ventilation system doing a poor job on refreshing the air. The skin on my cheeks burned, and a warm hoodie I wore made me feel like I was slowly cooking from the inside.
I loved flying and airports in general. The thing I hated was getting ready at home, always having a feeling that I forgot something important. But when I was at the airport and realized I had miraculously packed everything I needed, I relaxed. Here among so many foreigners, I felt that I was already abroad.
This conference I was flying to was about the latest trends in software development and design. I got the ticket when my colleague Diane canceled her trip because her son got ill and she had to stay home with him.
The web design department in the company I worked for, Benzon Technologies, was quite small, at least in the Ukraine, so I was the next in line for this trip.
I still had an hour before my flight from Kyiv to Tel Aviv, so I bought a cup of takeout coffee and found a quiet place to sit near the empty gate. It was cooler here, and much quieter. Instead of scrolling Instagram, I took out a print-out of the conference program and scanned underlined workshops I needed to attend. There'd be lots of people from Benzon at this conference. One of the top speakers was a software architect from there, a big star as I was told.
I'd been to Tel Aviv twice, so I knew what to expect from the city. And one of the main things I looked forward to was the sun. It was December, and in Kyiv, it was not snowing but felt almost like it. I was so excited to feel the warmth on my skin, even if it was only for three days. Thank God my company booked a seafront hotel for its employees. And since there wouldn't be anyone I knew, I'd spend my free time with the one thing I knew and loved: the Mediterranean Sea.
On the flight, I watched my favorite romantic movie from the 90’s on my tablet. This, along with the shining sun from the illuminator window, created a warm fluttering feeling inside me as we landed.
During the taxi ride, I was glued to the window. People were not wrapped up in scarfs, puffy coats, and mittens; some were actually wearing t-shirts. I looked down at my white woven hat laying on my lap and smiled.
My room was bright, but it didn't have a sea view, the windows showing the flat roofs of neatly stacked houses. The cream-colored walls held the paintings of faraway cities. Crisp white linen of a bed crunched under my fingertips, its smell coating the room.
Even though it was four in the afternoon, I still had about forty minutes to enjoy the sunset. I changed into much lighter clothes—no more hoodies—which included a white t-shirt with a swooshing logo and jeans and ran outside. The evening was warm, just a bit sticky to my skin. And when I saw the water, it took my breath away. I stopped to watch the sun going down, the water playing with red, orange, and violet colors, reminding the canvas of an advanced artist, who poured the soul into every brush stroke.
As I strolled down the Promenade, my eyes fixed on the horizon, a few runners swished by my side, and one newbie rollerblader bumped into my back, muttering an apology. All these people saw this beauty every day, but they stopped to watch the miracle of the sunset with me, their eyes reflecting the hues of a dancing light. I turned around, finding huge glass skyscrapers around me were glistening like popsicles in a candy shop. I didn't know why, but sunsets always brought me peace, and the sound of waves soothed me much better than any guided meditation on YouTube. I took a deep breath and felt my chest expanding with a seasalt air, a tender smile playing on my lips.
When I entered the hotel lobby, I turned to the bar. It was dimly lit; bare concrete walls were decorated with intricately carved dark wood panels. Black lamps hung from the ceiling reminding of dark icicles. A slow ambient music muffled the murmur, and a flowy scent of jasmine mixed with citrus tickled my nose. I assumed the bar was crowded with Benzon employees, but since I didn't know anyone, I figured maybe it was a good place to find an ally for the conference. I ordered gin and tonic and perched on the dark green barstool. I started with a relaxing technique: scrolling through social media pages and sending Mark photos from the seashore.
All my networking knowledge was based on the business book I never finished and a newsletter from a career website that I opened only once in a while.
"Don't know anyone in here?"
So, it appeared that my nonchalant technique was working.
I shut the screen and looked up at the speaker. It was a woman in her thirties with ocean-blue eyes and dark, chin-length curly hair. She had pale skin, which was highlighted by the clothes she wore: black jeans and a charcoal t-shirt. She had strong, sculpted arms, and slenderly cut cheekbones.
"Yes," I admitted. "The idea was to get a friend for a conference, but I decided to start with a gin and tonic and Instagram," I smiled. "I’m Julie."
"Ann." She also ordered a gin and tonic and sat on the stool near me. "Is it your first conference?"
"Abroad, yes. I wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place. My colleague couldn't come, and I got her place. I’m not sure I’ll find lot s of useful information since I’m a graphic designer. Did you see the timetable? Lots of stuff for software developers and business growth. And there will be a speech from a Benzon celebrity, which I will probably need to see."
I was babbling, and I didn't even know her. It was time to hold my tongue. Ann just looked at me and sipped her drink from a Copa glass.
"Where are you from?" she questioned.
"I am from Kyiv, Ukraine. We have a small office. You know, it's so chilly and grey there now, so one of the primary reasons I was happy to come to the Mediterranean was to see the sun and the sea. Say hi to warmth even for a couple days."
Her quiet gaze made me talk non-stop. Maybe it was not a marvelous idea to tell a stranger that I didn't really care about the conference, and I just wanted to get away from the gloomy winter.
I cleared my throat. "Where are you from? What do you do?"
She glanced at me, and her ocean-blue eyes were so familiar. Her gaze lingered, but she shook her head and took one more sip. It seemed she had forgotten what to say.
"I live in LA, work in HQ. I’m in software development."
And that was all. I got the idea that she was thinking about something else; maybe she didn't want to talk to me. For sure she didn't blabber as much as I did.
"How do you like Tel Aviv?" I asked.
Easy topic: the last resort would be asking about the weather.
"Oh, Israel is like my second home. My grandmother lives in Tel Aviv now. When I was a kid, my parents sent me here to spend the summer. My granny, Mary, used to live in Jerusalem till I was thirteen, and then she moved here. I flew in two days ago to spend time with her. She is getting old, but this city of young people gets her moving. She takes so many art classes and does yoga and dancing. I’m beginning to wonder if she has any free time."
Ann laughed, and the sound was so warm it lit something inside me. Her eyes shone brightly when she talked about Mary, and kindness wrapped around every word.
"She sounds," I paused for a moment before continuing, "awesome. I don't see my grandparents often, as they live in another city, and I only visit on holidays. But we never really got close. My parents moved with me and my brother to Kyiv when I was little. I think you need to have grandparents living close by to form a connection. I am trying now, but it seems the time is lost. My mother is my pillar of strength. What about your parents? Are you close?"
Something shifted in Ann's posture, and her face fell a little, but she hid it fast and eyed her watch.
"Oh, gosh, it's late," she remarked. "I need to be getting ready."
I scared her with my personal questions, but I enjoyed talking to her. Even if I did most of the talking, her eyes never left mine, and she was really listening, trying to see something inside of me, and I was comfortable in her presence. Usually, I didn't come out of my shell so easily. Ann noticed that I got upset and gave me a small, warm smile.
"I’m sorry, but I really need to get ready for tomorrow," she said, running a hand through her black hair. "I enjoyed your company and would love to know more about Kyiv and your family tomorrow." She winked. "What do you think?"
My face lit after these words. What was wrong with me? Ann looked at me as though she was trying to understand something, with so much intensity. But I was an open book, and it was always so easy for everyone to read me.
"Sounds perfect," I replied with a nod. "Good night."
She nodded and grabbed her keys and phone and went to the stairs, not an elevator. I watched her go, feeling so strange. I realized that I wanted to know more about her.
I was awful at making new friends. I had a couple of girlfriends from university time, but lately, they were deep in their personal lives: babies, husbands, and let's face it: We weren't that close anymore. I had no idea how to make new friends when daily life changed so fast. We had less and less common topics, and we spent our time so differently that there was no chance to relate to each other even to ask for advice. And the more I tried to explain, the more judgment I seemed to receive.
I was all right by myself, but I thought that soon some kind of Tinder for finding friends would come in handy.
I could feel that Ann could be my person. Finishing off my gin and tonic, I wondered how I could judge that within less than an hour of talking. I didn't know, but I felt it. And I usually trusted my feelings.
Going back to my room I thought that at least I wouldn’t be so lonely for the next two days.
Chapter 2
Julie
The next day, I woke up early. The sun crept in through my window, sending honey-colored hues over the room. I put my running shoes on and flew towards a Promenade. This was only my second morning here, and I needed to savor the view as much as possible. I ran for twenty minutes, but then slowed and came down to the water edge, scanning the waves.
Water always had a pull on me; from my childhood, my mom had to force me to get out of the lakes, rivers, and seas. Now it was chilly to go in, but still, I needed a connection.
With my shoes off, I breathed in the sea salt and took a few pictures to send to Mark. He was probably on his way to the office right about now.
At ten in the morning, a shuttle bus from my hotel took Benzon employees to the huge exhibition center right outside the city. The modern-looking building with a triangular overhang reminded me of an open sail, full of wind. The side walls were covered with partner logos, and famous names like Google and IBM were listed. The entrance was framed with a huge monitor, a promo video playing. This event was a big deal in the software world.
The smartly dressed hostess met us at the bus and gave us maps of the place. Lots of eco, green, recycling points. Nowadays it seemed that everyone in the IT industry needed to save the planet. It was an important trend, but it felt like lots of showing off to me.
At 11:30 there'd be a welcoming speech with a program overview.
It was so crowded that it would be almost impossible to find Ann. And as she didn't take the bus I was in, so she probably left on the previous one. I stood on tip toes trying to spot her, but there was no chance with so many people swarming around, talking to each other, standing in groups. Why didn’t I ask for her phone number?
I grabbed a coffee and some snacks as I headed inside; free food was the norm for these events because of course hungry IT people should be fed.
The central hall was huge, but you could see the stage even when you were standing far away at the back, which was my case.
The introduction rolled in, sponsors were thanked, and organizers gave a short description of events on the main stage. The timeline consisted of a wide range of speeches, available to everyone. Secondary stages were more tech and development focused. I would need to attend a few UX workshops. Also, there would be a masterclass from a guru designer I was excited to hear, along with a Benzon star at 3 p.m.
By lunchtime, I had lost all hope in finding Ann and became one of the lost IT souls in the crowd. Thank God I wasn't here to network. But I started to truly enjoy the program. For sure, the conference creators had gathered the top experts who knew how to explain and present. My bag was filled with flyers and my mind with ideas.
It was almost three when I returned to the main stage after a class on user experience, and it was time to find a place in the already crowded central hall. It seemed not only Benzon employees came to listen to the speaker. So many people were here that I got crammed into the wall. I caught bits of conversations around: "She’s so empowering," "She truly loves what she does and shares the love," "She is an expert, but also she is a women protector in the IT-sphere."
