The Woman with the Blue Umbrella

Our destinies are determined for us. My ex used to say that your choices don’t matter because your destiny already has its own outcome. She would say that nothing in the universe can change your fate. I almost started to believe her, in all honesty. I almost fell into that same depressing narrative she had. But at my lowest, I met the woman with the blue umbrella.

I was headed to work at a magazine department, a new office opened by a high-profiled fashion distributor. They wanted to show off up-and-coming fashions and gain more consumers. Before the age-old building with some modern windows and decorations was where I watched her walk down the steps, a navy umbrella catching small droplets of rain over her head. Her face was tucked away underneath it, but her dark hair fell and rolled down her back. I didn’t even know who she was and I was awestruck. The way she walked, knowing she was dangerous but safe at the same time, fill her entire body with confidence and mystery. Her heels hit each stone step lightly, almost as if they were an extension of her.

A couple of days after, I found out she was a new hire from our major competitor and had hated every second of working for them. They were extremely strict, even going as far as to give each employee their own unhealthy diet plan to “keep them healthy”. She had been a journalist in her teen years and a model until a couple of months ago, which made her the perfect candidate for this company. She seemed happy about working in a new environment too.

I, on the other hand, described myself as a struggling journalist who’d been hired as an end-page writer for crediting and price corrections. So you could say we were from two different worlds. I had worked there for four years and spent the last two with the magazine department. The entire time I’d been paid minimum wage, but she had started out with twenty dollars an hour. When I say high-profile, I mean it.

I started my own website after meeting her, delving deeper into the world of modelling, picking up interest from the horror stories she casually mentioned. At first, it started with online research, but I quickly began interviewing models and even getting into photography so I didn’t need to pay anyone for photos.

I built up the courage one day to ask her to share a story, giving her a lot of space to deny me. Apparently though, building up my following also got me noticed by her. She complimented me on my content, noting how horrible modelling can be. I forgot her name at first, but I could never forget that it was a beautiful name. Finally, it stuck in my head after her laugh made my cheeks turn wine red.

Viviana. It suited her elegant features and quick wit. She would never accept my attention if I didn’t call her Vi, yet she was the complete opposite with everyone else, making them only refer to her as Viviana. She was excited to be the focus of my newest piece and I was just as excited to have her be a part of it. I took her photo and that article became my most famous post, even earning me recognition at work.

Vi demanded I get a raise and a professional position, earning her a date and her favourite kind of cheesecake at my place. I continued to write these articles, finally revealing my identity and sometimes writing similar articles for my job as well. Every time a piece remotely involved Vi, I would take her to dinner, sometimes brunch depending on the day. She loved blueberry pancakes in bed when it rained. Ironically, I tried to include her in every article I wrote, even including articles she wrote too. She asked me to be her girlfriend after a couple months of dating, both of us trying to ease into something new.

We worked at the company for two years and then decided to start our own joint journalism site, incorporating the truth about the fashion industry and the faces in front of it. It was a very unwelcome site by the fashion industry, nearly getting taken down twice, but we only pressed harder to expose the companies that tried to shut us down. After all, they shouldn’t be angry if they’re actually treating their models and staff with humanity.

Our work picked up and we eventually bought a building and hired some staff. It was a change from cuddling on the couch and splitting the weight of an article, but it made us happy. Instead of long nights eating fake ramen and talking about photo filters while a superhero movie played in the background, we spent nights in one of our offices. Though, most nights involved eating take-out and laughing at the way the interns would forget to delete their exhaustion-filled comments from papers they needed us to sign.

The ironic thing is, Vi recently told me destinies are like rivers, they can branch, flow, and break, but they are never forced to follow a single path. She likes to think that our destinies are all intertwined with the people we meet, but our choices of what to do, who to talk to, or how we act to one another are the things that push us down one of those branches and into our final pool.

In a matter of months, the woman with the blue umbrella became part of my destiny and I hers. I don’t like to say we’ll end up getting married or anything, cause I don’t want to ruin the surprise of our fate. But I love her.