It all happened when I was 22 years old. I had finished college with my degree in accounting and decided to live on my own. My parents were against it. But, I reminded them that for four years, I was away from them. Eventually, I convinced them to let me live my life and be independent. I moved into a studio apartment. They paid my rent, but I promised them to start paying as soon as I get a job. I submitted my resume to the various banking entities in the City. I went on many interviews but never received a second interview. It behooved me many nights as to why this had happened. Was it because I was inexperienced? Was it because I was a minority? Was it because I was a woman? Or was it simply that I did not do well in the interview?
I took the latter as the main reason and asked my mother to assist me in hiring a job coach. I settled for a woman named Ms. Zeni. We had an appointment at my home, and she was right on time. The doorbell rang, and I opened my door to a curvy woman wearing a violet top. She extended her hand and greeted me with a sturdy handshake. We sat for hours as she helped me revamped my resume. We worked on my interviewing skills; and confidence-building skills, although I had no deficiencies or lack in that department. With Zeni’s expertise, I submitted more resumes. The responses were more than I expected. I went on more interviews and advanced to saw other personnel. I followed Zeni’s suggestion to the tee.
The call came around 3:23 p.m. I sat on the couch watching television with Sammy. I believe he sensed something because he looked up at me with his leering eyes. His head tilted to the side, and his ears perked up as he listened attentively to my one-sided conversation. I accepted their offer for employment with an agreement to start in a week.
Sammy barked in excitement. He was happy for me. Yes, my dog was intelligent too. Yes, my dog was a Doberman. My father gave him to me when I moved out of their house to live on my own. I remembered him saying, “Princess, your mother and I put a lot of thought in this gift. We wanted you to be safe since we are not going to be there to keep you safe. This dog will keep you safe whenever he is with you.” I did not have a boyfriend, so Sammy became my companion and housemate, and he was a good one. Sammy listened to my stories. He had a way of nudging my hand with his cold nose when he sensed I was sad, and I would hug him or rubbed his tummy. I would eventually feel better.
Oh no, Sammy! What was I to do with him all day while I was gone? I went on my phone to find a dog walker. I would be working, so I did not have to ask Mom for assistance with this expense. I interviewed the dog walkers that were available to offer their services the following week. Finally, I decided on one that had experience working with Doberman dogs. He lived in the next neighborhood across from the highway that separated us. We went on walks with Sammy so that he would get to know and trust him.
His name was Corey. He had migrated from the islands four years ago and had a hard time getting a job. His dog walking business started when his friend asked him to watch his dog while away on vacation. Since he was not working, he agreed. It had become a big business, and he enjoyed being with the dogs. He spoke with an accent, and I could listen to his base voice for hours. His stories of him growing up on an island were mesmerizing. Corey and I, along with Sammy, walked around the neighborhood and passed the apartment building twice. Corey used command words to direct Sammy to comply. Sammy was relaxed. I was too.
We did this exercise with Sammy alone and with other dogs for the next few days. Sometimes Corey would come by for us to walk to the coffee shop. Although he stated that it was for Sammy to get to know him better and trust him, I figured he liked me too. Corey would laugh at my jokes. We enjoyed the same types of music, and he showed me the latest dance moves. Corey tied Sammy’s leash to a wooden fence, and right there on Main Street, became my dance teacher. He played the songs and taught me the dance moves. I observed then tried to emulate him; he laughed at me. I laughed too because I knew I was not a good dancer. I accepted that I had “two left feet.” I did not take any offense to his mockery. I was myself, and it felt good not to pretend. I laughed so hard at my incompetence as a dancer. I was happy, yes I was. Throughout the excitement, I did not realize that we were walking arms in arms. I released my hold when I realized the connection.
We walked back in silence through a maze path in the park. A rabbit darted in front of us, and Sammy took up the chase. Corey yanked at the leash, and Sammy stopped. The frightened animal scampered away through a broken fence along the path. Sammy barked, and we laughed. When we got back to my apartment door, I thanked him for the dance lessons. We laughed, and he handed me Sammy’s leash. Our hands touched and lingered. I looked at our hands and up into his eyes. I felt like I was in a trance because I was unable to avert my eyes from his. He smiled at me. His teeth gleamed, and he licked his bottom lip ever so gently, which left a slick surface. That was so sexy. I wished he would kiss me. I talked to him with my eyes, “Come on, you idiot, kiss me.”
He released my hand and cupped my face, and we kissed. The tension in my stomach softened, and I let myself go to his advancement. I was in love with the dog walker. I fell in love with his sense of humor. I fell in love with his demeanor. Corey was kind, thoughtful, spontaneous, funny, and a dancer. He was the type of man I could be happy with within a relationship. I gave Corey the keys to my apartment for Sammy and my heart. And we lived happily ever after.
Okay, I said it.