(Edit 4/20/24: I accidentally moved this to drafts and had to move it back to published. It’s not a new piece. If it’s new to you, that’s great. Thanks for reading.)
“Went what, Ethan?” she asked. I looked up with a crooked smile. “Are you writing out loud again?” She was standing there glowing, the sun all around her head, her expression open and teasing. She was the solar eclipse, she always has been, since September 27, 2033.
The first one was when my mom and I were going out to eat dinner at a fancy restaurant for some holiday, and as we were entering, an extremely good looking guy with either his mother or his grandmother were walking out at the same time. He was tall, had dark hair, looked like a model. He looked at me and I looked at him and he smiled. Well, I almost fell down. But I kept looking at him, and he kept looking at me. I was about 16, and I think he was a little bit older than that, but something was palpable. My mom started giggling and telling me, “That guy is really cute, and he’s looking at you, Ame!”
I think I started to blush, and I giggled as we continued to walk into the restaurant. I never forgot that encounter.
The second time was about 10 years ago. It was around Christmastime, and Mom and I were at a local department store that was packed due to the holiday. We were in the jewelry area, and out of this mass of people, I see a really cute guy with a younger girl, possibly his niece. It’s not abnormal for me to notice cute guys, because that’s my thing, but this was different. At the very same moment that I looked at him, he looked at me. The unfortunate part of this is that he was leaving and seemed to be in a rush with the gifts that he had in his arms. The strange part is that he turned around to keep looking at me as if he wanted to speak. I wanted to talk to him, although I didn’t know him at all. We maintained eye contact until neither of us could see each other – I was still in the store and he was in the parking lot. I really wanted to go catch up to them, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I wondered how idiotic would it sound to go up to some guy that I don’t know and say, “Hi, I feel like we’re having a serendipitous moment here, and even though you’re rushing to get wherever you need to go with your niece, we should chat.” I couldn’t do that, but I knew by not doing that that I would never see this person again, though I did check for him in the parking lot, even though I knew he was long gone. And for a while, I would check for him in that same department store every time I went. Anyway, I think I told my mom about it or she witnessed it. And she told me that similar things had happened to her over the course of her life. She believed when we would see people like that, they are angels put into our path for a particular reason. The reason is not always known.
I think the universe knows to send angels to me that look like cute guys.
Outlander is a romance/fantasy series on the Starz cable network and app with a huge dose of history, war, nursing, medicine, herbology, intense relationships, family drama – the list goes on. It’s not strictly fantasy, and it’s not strictly chick flick material – it’s packed with substance, great acting, intricately woven storylines, and an overall captivating experience.
I read the novels in college and waited 142 years for the rights to be optioned. Starz began production in 2013. I was elated. But I was also a little apprehensive, because I had read all of the books to date, and I was worried that the actors chosen for the roles would not match up with the characters I had envisioned in my mind. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about, as the casting has been superb in the series.
Claire, our heroine, portrayed by the super-talented Catriona Balfe, an Irish actress.
If you haven’t read the novels, I would recommend doing the hard work first: read the books before watching the TV series. Everything is more in the novels. Each book is close to 1,000 pages long. There’s much more substance in the books and a great deal more character development. The reason for that is the material has to be truncated to fit into an approximately 47 minute episode each week. And the seasons are short – it varies, but right now we’re in Droughtlander, waiting for the second half of Season Seven to resume. And when I say waiting, I mean waiting for up to a year and a half. But enough about Droughtlander. It’s a sore subject.
I feel sorry for people who only know that the TV series exists and who don’t – or won’t – read the books.
Jamie, our leading male, portrayed by the wonderful Scottish actor, Sam Heughan. He’s either just said, or is about to say, “Je Suis Prest” – Clan Fraser’s motto. I know this because this is one of my favorite scenes.
Sidebar: for anyone who adores costume history as much as I do (and believe me, I do, it was my minor in college), the costumes in this are exquisite. The costumes in Season Two are especially jaw-droppingly beautiful, as the show takes place mostly in France. Please don’t get me started on French fashion. I will blabber on for hours.
My rec: start with the novels, then watch the series. I’ve watched (and read) Outlander *way* more than five times. And they’re worth it.
“Why do you keep looking at the time?” my colleague asked with squinted, suspicious eyes.
I thought about it for a minute before I answered, knowing how bizarre my answer might seem. I continued typing as I pondered my response. “I’m supposed to meet a guy at the park today,” I replied as nonchalantly as possible.
“Oh, really,” she replied, suddenly interested and rolled her chair up to mine. “Do tell.”
“There’s not much to tell. I received a text about ten years ago and it’s stuck with me. The guy thought he was texting someone else. Once he realized I wasn’t the intended recipient, we continued texting with playful banter. It was fun. He was fun, and smart. Also really quick-witted. You know how that hooks me every time. He said we should meet at the park on September 27, 2033. As a joke, of course. But then I started to think about it – and I’ve had ten years to think about it. What if it’s like, some kind of serendipitous experience or cinematic romcom situation?”
She sat there, staring at me blankly. “You’re saying you received a text ten years ago from a guy you don’t know, and you are going to meet him at a park today? Because he said to show up at the park on September 27, 2033? I have questions. What if he’s a stalker? Or a creep? Or 78 years old? Or 17 years old? What if it’s a catfish? And let’s say it’s not: it’s been ten years. Don’t you think he’ll have forgotten your text exchange by now? And since it was said in jest, he’s not going to show up, even if he recalls. Finally, how will you know who this guy is when you see him at the park?”
I shrugged off the first thousand questions. “I won’t,” was my response to the final one.
Her face scrunched. “This is clearly a joke. If you didn’t exchange photos, and haven’t texted since that one mistaken identity thing in 2023, then no, this is not happening. Like, at all.”
I turned back to my screen and continued typing. “I’m going to the park at lunch, sitting on the bench, and I will see if there are any guys loitering around looking at me.”
She ran her hand down her face in a sweeping motion of clearing out the annoyance that was me. I was not dissuaded. “What you are describing is a normal occurrence at the park. Do you know how many random guys loiter around and look at us every day as we walk through?”
I kept typing, keeping my eyes on the screen. ‘Yes, I know, but those are weird guys.”
“What separates this guy from those guys?”
“This guy told me to meet him at the park today.”
She sighed heavily. “I sure hope you have your Suspicious Persons binder up to date before you head out on this bad chick flick adventure of yours, because there are so many ways this can go south. You don’t know who you’re looking for, you don’t know what his intentions are, AND it’s been ten years since this occurred. He may not even show up, and I hope for your sake he doesn’t.”
The sky started taking on a strange darkness as we sat there, our cubicles next to the large window. She kept talking, mostly telling me not to do it, with me mostly thinking about what I could grab for lunch to take to the park. When I defiantly told her I was going, regardless of her lecturing, she waved me off dramatically. “Do what you want, but I’m going to send the police in an hour, and you know I mean it.”
I headed out at around 11:45. I stopped by the sandwich shop at the corner, ordered a croissant – because Paris is always a good idea. I could pretend that this was a Parisian park, and the guy would show up in a raspberry beret, the kind you buy from a secondhand store.
I took off my shoes and walked my way through the soft grass to the bench where I could see everyone in the park. There were kids playing nearby, giggling. There was an older woman sitting on the nearby bench. She smiled and nodded, and I returned her kind acknowledgment. So far, no weird guys had appeared, and no normal guys, either. The sky continued to darken, and I recalled the text exchange from ten years prior. “That’s right, there is a solar eclipse today,” I whispered to myself as a squirrel stared at my croissant, tiny arms pulled up to its chest.
I’d been at the park about fifteen minutes when my phone rang. It was my coworker. “What is happening? Are you insane? Are you safe?” She was bordering on hysteria.
“I’m fine. I’m sitting here talking to a squirrel actually. I’m eating my lunch, and if he doesn’t show up, I’ll just—”
It was at that moment I felt a light tap on my shoulder. “Gotta go,” I said slowly, and ended the call. With a deep breath, I turned slowly toward the direction of the tap. I looked up and I felt a wry smile form. My smile was returned to me tenfold. The sun was blocked out, but not by the eclipse.
“It's Amy,” I said. 