I had to start small, and activate the plan slowly. I had to be precise and discreet. No one could know what I was doing and why. So I made things up, things that appeared logical to me and the outside world.
First I needed to blend in. I took a note from Julia Roberts in Sleeping with the Enemy and I devised a more natural look so that I could easily fall into the darker back drop of New York City.
Phase one of Operation Witness Protection Plan was underway. No one would notice me now that I had shed all my dashing blond locks. I looked just like another Jewish/Italian/not Scandinavian New York/New Jersey/bridge and tunnel transplant girl.
When everyone asked why I colored my hair I came up with a variety of "non crazy sounding" reasons.
1." I am going to Italy and I don't want to be hounded." This in fact did prove to be beneficial for my trip. My other blond friend was hounded, and I was left alone, in hiding. Just like I had planned.
2. "Men don't like to hire women who look like Britney Spears." I took on the whole "Nanny Theory." The theory being that one should never go to a baby sitting interview looking more attractive than a 30-something recent mother might look. No woman in her right mind would hire someone who might be capable of running off with her husband. In the same vein, why would any man hire a woman who is more attractive than his wife? Being on set with a more attractive woman for 18 hours does not a healthy marriage make.
Looking ugly is in right now anyway, the American Apparel adds tell me so. Gaunt, underage, and weird hair are the trend. So I can deal with looking a little more like Sarah Plain and Tall at least I don't look like the weirdos in my hood.
Next I realized that everyone knew where I lived. An apartment in such a central location of hipness, in the heart of mega-hot Williamsburg, complete with a private garden could not be hidden for long. Everyone I knew/know/and will know someday has practically already been there. My secret layer, even though it was off the street and separated from the outside world by a cavernous little causeway, and sometimes protected by rabid squirrels who had gotten caught in the narrow space has/had/and would be discovered by...well by "the invader." I had to get out. My bodyguard,who shall remain nameless, but she is small, spry and from Minnesota. Don't even attempt to find me or she will have to take action, NOT IN YOUR BEST INTEREST.
Anyway, my bodyguard and I found a new secret abode, higher up and with much better surveillance options so that we can always see who is/what is/or what will be lurking just outside our layer.
The final step was selective community enhancement. I had to maintain only the most exceptional people in my life and casually delete the remainder.
I changed my phone number. Now the phone worked one way in my favor. I had everyone's number and no one had mine!
With a Westchester area code, a Brooklyn zip code and dirty Jersey hair I would never be found.
Or so I thought...
I am not sure that I have the privilege/right/or patience to harp on this any longer. But he found me in the matter of two weeks.
Personal Witness Protection Plan Failure!
In one visit from Los Angles to New York he was able to: work for my biggest client, have dinner with my current boyfriend, party with my best friend, meet up with my bodyguard for drinks, and throw a party with all of "our" friends, "our" old community, "our" old life together.
Rumor has it that he was still the same. Minus the chain smoking.
He is frenetic. Lost. He lives with people and closes the door on them every night . His family is a wreck. He ignored everyone at the party that he threw for all "our" friends and engaged only in business talk with a potential client. I was asked about at the party, my current life events were exchanged like a scrolling ticker tape from one friend to the next. Like Palo's life events have been whispered to me in telephone game format over the last few weeks. I ask. It is my fault. I want to know how he is/has been/will be.
Last messages received from Palo via mutual friend telephone game transfer:
"He would kill to see you."
"His family is a wreck, but we didn't really get into it."
It still breaks my heart. To hear that he is such an island makes me hurt. For him. For me. For anyone else who knows and loves him like I do. It just breaks me up.
I have to find a way to put that into my Personal Witness Protection Plan:
Must find safeguard for previous/current/and future heartbreaks.
Must find way to delete past/present/future
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