Page 33 of Mind

First stop is 16th street. Chase takes a calming breath and exits the car. He offers his hand and helps me exit the large vehicle. Our bodyguards stay close but out of the way.

“Where are we?” I ask looking around at the busy street. San Francisco is wonderfully diverse. People from all walks of life, all ethnicities converge into this urban melting pot. There are people in fierce suits blindly focused on wherever they are headed. Hipsters fill local cafes and bookstores alongside busy families, shuffling their kids to and fro.

Chase clasps my hand and turns down the street. “You’ll see,” he grins and I almost stop walking to just stare at the open happiness he’s gifting me and the world around us. We walk a few blocks until we’re between Moraga and Noriega. Chase stops and points to the very bottom of a staircase. “Look.” I follow his finger to a spot over my shoulder. I slowly walk over and I’m greeted by the most stunning sight. It’s a rainbow staircase but, it’s not exactly a rainbow.

Small mosaic tiles coalesce together to create a myriad of images. My gaze jumps from point to point, unable to still on one facet. It’s breathtaking, unique and quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “How?” I whisper trying to take the wonder in.

“It was built in 2005. Over three hundred community volunteers, local businesses and individual donors came together to bring artists Aileen Barr and Colette Crutcher’s design to fruition.” I take a couple steps up and view the sweeping colors made completely of tiny tiles. “There’s a hundred and sixty three steps in all. I love the moon in the center. On a clear night, it seems to reflect the real moon’s rays making it unearthly.” I scan the stairs all the way up until I see the giant moon in the center with dark swirling tiles around it.

Finally, I’m able to take a breath and really appreciate the view. The bottom of the staircase starts with a flurry of oceanic themes from little fish to swirling waves all in small colored pieces. The ocean waves seem to go half way up the flight of stairs until it reaches tiles that are rich browns and oranges speckled with flowers and woodland creatures. Up further reflects a sky with birds, and an array of flying insects all in aqua and pale blue hued tiles. Continuing on is the moon Chase loves. A giant white swooping circle made of glistening whites and grey pieces surrounded by a dark indigo and midnight blue. At the very tip top of the stairs seems to be a bright sunburst depicting a giant sun. I’m pretty certain I’ve never seen anything more heart-stopping aside from the man holding me up while I feast on this local art.

“Shall we walk it?” Chase clasps my hand as I nod, still unable to speak. We take each step and every so often, I lean down and run my finger along a tile. Chase doesn’t let go of my hand, just crouches low to see what has caught my attention. We continue on, and finally, when we’re in between the moon and sun, Chase sits me down. He goes down about ten or fifteen steps and pulls out his phone. “Give me one your smiles, beautiful.” I don’t even have to try. Sitting here at a place I’ve never been with the man who clearly wanted to share such beauty with me, I couldn’t hold back a giant grin. He snaps a couple of photos. I pull out my own phone and gesture to him to sit next to me. A lone kid with a mowhawk tinged in bright pink and a leather jacket walks to the side of us trying to pass.

“Excuse me, sir?” I ask as Chase growls under his breath and tightens his hold. “Can you take our picture please?” Mohawk Guy nods and grins before adjusting the satchel he has across his body. He smiles as I hand him the phone. His mouth is teaming with jewelry, little rings on the top and bottom. He brings new meaning to the term ‘metal mouth’.

“You look like my sister,” Mohawk Guy says on a grin. His eyes are an astonishing shade of green that match my own. If he didn’t have so much metal marring his features, he’d be quite cute.

“I hope that’s a compliment,” I respond in my most polite tone.

“It is. People tell me she’s hot all the time. But I’m like, gross, that’s my sister,” he shudders and takes several steps down pointing the camera at us. Both Chase and I laugh at this perfect stranger sharing a bit of his life with us. Somehow, it just adds to the moment in a lovely way. Mohawk Guy must have taken a couple shots while we weren’t watching or posing because I can hear the telltale clicking. Then he comes closer and says, “Now, pretend you love each other.”

Chase turns his head to me, and clasps my cheeks. His eyes are a stunning shade of ocean blue and like so many times before, I lose myself in them. “I don’t have to pretend,” Chase whispers.

“Me either,” I say back, right before his lips meet mine. His mouth opens and I delve in, giving Chase what I consider to be the first real kiss of the day, and it’s right here, on the most beautiful stairway in all the world. He tastes of mint and man.Myman.

Chase and I make out on those stairs as if we were teenagers who just found one another and are kissing for the first time. We both put so much promise and love into it that I forget where we are, until I hear giggling from behind me and a little“thwack thwack thwack”sound. I pull away and look back. A little brown haired girl and what must be her brother are jumping down each stair one at a time, holding hands. I turn back and look to see that Mohawk Guy is gone but he left my phone on the step right next to my sandaled foot. Never judge a book by its cover. That kid could have run off with that fancy phone Chase got me, but he didn’t.

I pick up the phone and pull up the images. There are at least seven or so. There’s the one where we were laughing at one another candidly, then the posed picture and then the up close one. Chase is holding my cheeks and telling me he loves me. That picture is going to be printed and put up in our home. “Look,” I show him the pictures. He points to the one that I like best.

“Send them all to me but this one is…special.” I nod, so happy to see that he and I are absolutely in tune with one another. I can’t wait to surprise him with a blown up copy of it in our bedroom or living room. “Come on, snookems” he says. Oh no, not another endearment. Snookems is one I willnottolerate. I cringe and he laughs. “No to snookems? Alright, I’ll stick to baby,” he grins and nudges my cheek with his nose. He clasps my hand and we make our way up the rest of the stairs.

“Onto our next site,” he loops an arm around my shoulder. “You okay to walk?” we both look down to my sparkly flip-flops then his practical walking loafers.

Smiling, I look up into his eyes and cling to his waist. “I’ll walk with you anywhere.”

Gillian

We walk for about a mile when Chase stops at the entrance to the Japanese Tea Garden. It’s a huge gate that looks like a pagoda. The sign on the entrance doors says, “Closed for Maintenance,” but Chase enters anyway.

“We can’t go in. It’s closed,” I warn in a hushed tone hoping we don’t bring any attention to our trespassing. Chase looks behind him and gestures to a bench near the door for our guards to sit at.

A man of Asian descent dressed all in white seems to show up out of nowhere. “Mr. Davis,” the man holds out a hand, walking toward us. Chase shakes it. “I believe everything is set up to your liking. You have free reign of the gardens for the next three hours, as requested. And thank you again for the very generous donation. It will be put to good use maintaining the grounds.”

“Shall we?” Chase smiles and holds a hand out to a few different paths. I shake my head grinning. That man would try to buy his way into the gates of heaven if he could.

The first place we stop is in front of a red five-story pagoda. It reminds me of the friendship pagoda firecracker I’ve always enjoyed during Independence Day. The one that comes in an octagon shape, and, then when lit, pops up into a mini Asian looking mansion. The real deal is even cooler.

“This was actually built in 1915 for the Panama-Pacific Exposition. It was moved here after the event to protect the history. Pagodas typically relate to a place where religious activities can be held, usually for Buddhists, who tend to use the tiered location for worship. They are also known to hold artifacts and keep religious relics safe.”

Chase stares at the red square tiered building while I stare at him. “You’re really into architecture and history,” I lean against his shoulder and wait for his reply.

He takes a breath and looks around. “It’s a passion of mine, definitely,” he answers simply. I like that about him. Something interesting and different about Chase. Somehow it makes him seem more real, more human.

We continue down a path and come to a sprawling Zen garden. He leads me to a bench and we sit, looking out over the landscape and the river rocks, which have been raked into perfect calming patterns. “Do you know about the Zen garden too?” I ask. His eyes twinkle and he nods. “Tell me about their significance.”

Chase cups my shoulder and looks out over the garden. “The Zen garden was added with religious as well as mythological meaning in mind. They are meant to help others in their search for enlightenment.”

I hum, unsure of the mythological and religious aspects. The gardens are beautiful and would definitely make a person want to think through a problem. “Does it enlighten you?” I ask Chase sarcastically.

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