Side note: I only made it to Monday before getting called into meetings.

Thursday was my last official work day. I head to the Club later that evening to see Gia. Flight Club has been slow. So slow, Gia has decided to head back to Rhode Island on Wednesday. The club was slow, and Gia spent most of her time with me. I am infatuated with her. Gia is smart, pretty, and funny. Gia also has higher walls built up around her than Fort Knox, despite that we have a great time together.

There is no need to overthink her motives. She is honest, and judging from her stories, even her past relationships had difficulty getting close to her, though she wouldn't see it that way. I posted a quote once. Paraphrased, it said we are attacked by people who trigger us. A girl from Rhode Island with serious avoidance issues that would describe my mother.

Sunday, we had plans to meet at the Rust Belt in Ferndale. It is an indoor collection of small shops. The weather was rainy and miserable. Parking was tricky due to the congestion of holiday shoppers, but we both managed to find spots. I met Gia at the entrance, and we strolled around. 

Gia wore a kit cap and a full-length puffy down jacket. Both were burgundy colored. I tried enticing her into getting a hoody or T-shirt to remember her time in Detroit, but Gia. indicated she did shop for clothes. Gia then unzipped her full-length coat just enough to reveal she wasn't wearing anything beneath it and went into how she hates to do laundry while traveling. We both laughed. I found it both hilarious and sexy at the same time. 

I call her a zebra with bull horns because she is unique but hides in plain sight and is as stubborn as a bull. The only store that piqued her interest was the health food store. Where she bought some supplements. 

We sat at the bar and ate lunch at Bobcat Bonnies. Gia doesn't have a problem with public displays of affection when we are out. She let me put my arm around her while we walked the shops. She rested her head on my shoulder while we sat at the bar and waited for food. She didn't pull away when I stroked her bare leg when it peaked out from beneath her jacket at the bar. The whole time, we talked, laughed, and joked.

Sunday night, I went back to the club to see her. I didn't want the day to end, and I knew she would be flying back to Rhode Island and she wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Sunday was another slow night in the club. We spent the five hours in the back room, with just a few bathroom breaks. The bartender thought I left without cashing out. 

She wore only a thong, but it wasn't sexual. She stretched out across my lap, and I would stroke her midriff or her butt, depending on her position. We talked about music, books, and anecdotes from her club experiences, and she opened up more about her last relationship. Gia had everything in Florida: a big house, a nice car, and a joint business. She ran away from it all. 

We had so much fun in that little curtained-off room with its uncomfortable black vinyl couch. Each time her name was called for her turn on stage, I would ask her if she wanted to go or if she wanted to stay. She would say she wanted to stay each time, and I would pay to have her skipped. 

"I have to bring a chisel just to break down your walls," I tell her.

"You brought a chisel?"

"Honey, what have you been feeling in my pants?"

This conversation led to more ridiculous jokes. It has been a long time since I made someone laugh so much and hard by just being me. It felt like I was chipping away at her walls. If only I had a little more time.

We said our goodbyes in the back. We hugged each other close and kissed me twice on the cheek. 

"If you ever get back to Detroit, you better call me the minute your feet touch the ground," I tell her.

"I will," she assures me. "It has just got to make sense." Gia means financial sense-- stubborn.

 I am seeing her one last time tomorrow. We are meeting in Royal Oak again before she heads to the airport. I bought her a copy of The Untethered Soul. I told her she must work on those walls and let someone in. Don't we all.