Her mind drifted back through the years to the first time she visited Philly, so in love, so full of hope and optimism. Somehow, the euphoria heightened all her emotions. When she saw the lights of the Philadelphia Theater Company, she closed her eyes and allowed all the memories to wash over her.
"Lombard Street? I wonder if it is named after Carol Lombard."
"What?" he asked, not slowing down as Deandra took in the sights.
"Carol Lombard, the actress."
"Haven't heard of her," he said.
"How have you not heard of her? She was marreid to Clark Cable, you know, 'frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Deandra wanted pictures of everything and was fumbling for her camera in her bag.
He stopped her, placing his hand on hers. "Deandra, we will look like tourists."
"But I am a tourist, and I want to remember things, like the architecture of some of these buildings. How amazing. I can truly see the influence of post-modern revival."
She heard a low moan, and looked down from the skyline to see a swell of anger in his chocolate eyes. "What? I am serious, look how amazing the buildings are. You can even distinguish the evolution of modernization as the buildings increasingly become more and more modern, like a circle."
"Shut up," he said. Even though it was not harsh or even demanding, Deandra recoiled, feeling somehow she had disappointed him.
She thought back to their time in Austin when he listened to her ramble about architecture in the walks through downtown. She didn't remember him complaining about her taking pictures then. She wanted to know what changed, but didn't know if she dared ask him.
As they neared the marquee of the Theater Company, she stopped.
"Hey, 'Grey Gardens' is here. I read the reviews for this. I can't believe it. Maybe we could get tickets."
Jarvis turned to her and sighed, "you serious? I don't know if we will have time."
"What about the 'alone' time you scheduled in? I might could come to theater," she smiled coyly, trying to lighten the mood.
"I thought you wanted to go to the Star Trek exhibit at the Franklin Institute."
"Oh, I might. I want to see this, too."
"Think about it while we walk," he commanded. "We have alot to get done."
Suffering from jet lag and the lack of sleep, Deandra wanted to slow down and take it easy. She had worked a twelve hour shift before rushing to the airport to sit on a four hour flight. By her quick calculations, she had been up almost twenty four hours and hadn't eaten in at least eight.
"Can we duck in somewhere so I can grab some water, maybe a snack?"
"We have reservations for lunch in a couple of hours," he answered, detached from the urgency in her voice.
"Jarvis, I have been up almost twenty four hours and have not eaten since way before I got on the flight."
"Why didn't you eat before you boarded?"
"I didn't have time. I barely made it to the airport in time to board. We had a hostage situation that I could not detangle myself from to leave work early. Remember that cushion I was gonna give myself by leaving work early? Didn't happen."
"Deandra, we must establish a strict 'no talking about work' rule."
"I'm just saying; I need some water at least."
He rolled his eyes and consented. "Fine, let's go in over there," he said pointing to a grocery store. She smiled and thought 'a real mom and pop store', right out of the movies. I need a picture'.
Deandra sensed the iritation in his sigh, but somewhere deep inside of her, she needed to document her experiences, the way she always did: pictures, sketches, jounal entries and keepsakes. She snapped the picture then hurried behind him across the street.
"Here we are, ma'am," the taxi driver said. Fumbling in her bag for her wallet, she found the business card he had given her earlier.
"Keep the change," she said slow, in her best syrupy drawl. "Thanks for getting me home safe."
As she plied herself out of the taxi, she realized just how tired she was...the long day, the emotional overload and then the effects of brandy. She wanted to pour herself into a comforter and hide. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the front desk and winced. The rain had not been kind to her, especially her very expensive silk dress.
As she clumsily dug into her bag again, this time for the room key, she couldn't help but remember a different place and time.
"I need to grab more bags from the car; why don't you relax and I'll be back up in a few minutes," he said as he ushered her into the suit. It was an old bed and breakfast, and Deandra loved everything about it so far.
"A balcony, too? Wow, look how pretty downtown is in the sunset." She turned to face him, but he had already left the room. She took the opportunity to take off her shoes and grab her journal.
'On being Carol Lombard.......walked down this amazing street full of life and history today, one of so many. I couldn't help but think of Carol Lombard since the street is named, after all, Lombard Street. The theater is on the street, and the big lights of the overhang beckoned to me. I could literally hear them call my name. I wonder if Carol ever walked her. Not sure why I think of classic old movies here in the City of Brotherly Love.........I honestly can only think of a couple of them set here, but the buildings and people, the activity. It is all so film noir, and I want to find my best 30s dress and classic heals to wear when we go out tomorrow. It's been a long day already.......the flight in and lots of walking. Just when I thought I'd be too tired to go on, I'd catch a second wind and off I'd go. I got some amazing shots today, and I scarce can wait to see them. Eastern State Penitentiary is by far the most amazing place I saw today.......even better than the Liberty Bell.'
She heard the door open and Jay come back in, but continued writing to get her thoughts down.
'The architecture is beautiful with clear divisions between periods, especially on Lombard and Market Streets. I could see a concentrical evolution from some imaginary point. Across from the Liberty Bell is this old brownstone hotel that I didn't get the name of do to some construction happening to its ediface, but I will look it up later. Also, the cobblestones in front of the First Bank are intact and offered such an amazing glimpse into the past.'
"What are you writing?" he asked as he offered her a glass of wine.
"Oh thanks. I am just trying to put down some thoughts about the day before I forget them, especially since someone was so adamant about me not taking pictures," she teased.
"Do you ever just relax?" he seemed impatient.
Looking at him, she wondered what he meant. "I am very relaxed. This is how I relax, you know, collect my thought."
Instead, he seemed not to hear or understand her. He launched into a description of the wine and how much it had cost.
"It is very nice," she tried. "I was ready to unwind."
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