(It was fun to write this, and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know with a good vote or constructive comment.)
After four months, I'd had enough of myself. Grace had her lawyers send me a legal separation agreement. Her note explained that she needed to be apart to decide what was next for her. She wanted to be able to meet and be with other men and not be guilty about it. So, we separated. You say I could have fought that? Really? What was there to say or do? The world is big, and she wanted her freedom to go look. She might come back, and then again, she might not. Meanwhile, she was setting me free to do what I thought was best for me. It was shitty, but it was honest.
I spent Thanksgiving with our daughter and her family. Sitting at my desk the next day, I felt untethered and lost. I'm on the wrong side of age 65 and retired. My wife had gone off to find something better than me. I never had hobbies and my friends were part of my former working life. I was lonely and it was becoming oppressive.
I took myself in hand. An article I read suggested going back through one's contacts and friends, no matter how out of date, to see what relationships might be revived. I threw myself into it, looking at old photo albums and letters, diaries that died off, email folders that were hopelessly in need of a "delete" session. I came across a box that was marked as holding baby pictures of our son. When I looked inside, what I found were pictures from my college days. I remembered them as soon as I saw then but hadn't thought of those photos for years. Letting the rest of the job go, I found myself at the kitchen table, sorting.
The largest pile was made up of snapshots, mostly the old Polaroid instant photo type, of a group of girls I had come to know back in college. In those day, Philadelphia had a network of small Catholic colleges. The girls in our group all attend one, and I attend one of the men's. Ellen, Annette, Patty, their pictures were there. I remembered that there were ten of us, who had been close. I stayed in touch with Annette the longest. She never married as far as I knew, and I'd escort her to events when she needed a wingman. Eventually, when I married Irene, my time with Annette tapered away as well.
I was making up lists of names to call. I had few phone numbers but made progress when the one's that I could call pointed me to many of the rest. The girls were tougher because they were their own group. Find one and find them all, but I was having trouble finding any. I had the time so I went to the college alumni office to see if they could give me a lead and struck out. As I was about to leave, I saw a pile of the typical magazine your college or university sends you -- the one with sleek pictures of modern buildings, perfect portraits of the deans and a long list of donors. I knew first and last names, maybe I might find something in the donor list. In the tenth one that I poured over, I saw a listing "Annette Jones" for the class of 1970. There were advertisements in the back. Annette was a real estate broker.
Finding her was easy. I made myself sit down and write a note, re-introducing myself after many years. I didn't hear back for several weeks and then I got a call. Annette had been away and just gotten through her mail. Of course, she wanted to see me. Ellen would too and Annette would make the calls to set things up. When was good and where? We agreed to the details and I confess I was nervous sitting there, waiting for them to arrive. I was way in the back, but I recognized them right away. I stood up so that they'd see me. Annette and Ellen gave a little wave back and made their way over.
Even now, that luncheon seems to have been so fast. We were there for more than three hours, but it felt like minutes. They asked about me, my life. Was I still working? Did I get married? Kids? Any grandkids yet? How was I doing after the separation? That was harder to answer. I didn't want to sound like a cranky old fart, complaining that his wife had run off with the landscaper. It was a blow, I said. I hadn't seen it coming. I thought that with retirement, we'd have plenty of time to get back in touch and tend to our marriage, but I was wrong. Irene had moved on and I hadn't seen her go. By the time I reached out to her, she was with someone else. I didn't expect her to return.
It was getting towards the end. Ellen took my hands in her's and caught my eye. Tell me, she asked, what happened between you and Andi? I knew they'd ask. Andi and I were the "forever" couple until I called it off on a long-distance phone call. How lame is that? But it's something I did and never was proud of.
I said it was long ago and best left to rest. Certainly, Andi must be doing fine and that she was married too. I did say it was the hardest thing I'd ever done and the one I most regretted. I felt immensely sad as I said that. I had never gone back to sort out in my mind what I had done and the consequences it had on my life. But here, with Annette and Ellen, I did and saw nothing but lost chances and sadness. When I went on my journey to reclaim my life, I hadn't thought it would be like this.
We went our ways after lunch, and I emailed them a thank you for the time together. I expressed the hope that we'd do that again soon. Of course, we did no such thing. It was mid-February. I had taken a quick trip to Iceland to see the northern lights, great writhing sheets of simmering green light. I returned, determined not to sit around feeling sorry for myself.
The Philadelphia Flower Show started in 1829 and gets 250,000 visitors a year. It's held downtown in the convention center and runs for a week. I decided to go but I didn't want to go alone. I had been Annette's wingman enough times, maybe this time she'd be mine. Absolutely, that sounded great, she said. She wanted to go but, like me, needed someone to go with her. It all worked out. A day or two later, she called to see if Ellen could join us. The more, the merrier, I said.
The great convention hall is huge, which did not keep the crowds from packing in and making the hall feel claustrophobic. The flowers were amazing. I kept taking photos. I would have been embarrassed by that but everyone else was. It's part of the ritual. I have some on my walls at home, framed and I'm looking at them as I write this. There was a central display of a woodland scene, big pines and a cabin, located on a large oval-shaped island. I went left and noticed the girls take the right-handed side. I was snapping away. As I came to the end, I became aware someone was standing in the way.
I turned to see a woman, 5' 4", her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, a yellow sweater over a tan skirt. She smiled and I dropped my phone. I bent down to pick it up and Andi bent down with me. Almost kneeling, the crown passing us by, we were together again, and I had nothing to say. I heard myself babbling out of reflex. How are you? It's been so long. Andi just smiled and handed me my phone. She was first to her feet and offered hand to help me up.
Matt, I'm so glad to see you, she said. Time has been good to you. Annette and Ellen told me all about your lunch, and what you talked about. When Annette called .... When she asked if I wanted to join you, well, here I am.
I was floored. I didn't know what to say. I looked over to Annette and Ellen for help, but they giggled and waved bye-bye. We needed some time to catch up, Ellen said. Annette added that we'd see each other tonight at the restaurant. We were caught up in a mob scene and Andi asked if I knew of a better place to talk. The convention center is built on the old Reading Railroad terminal, part of which is the Reading Terminal market. The market opened in 1893 and has great places to eat. We wound up in a booth in the diner.
I resolved I would not make Andi ask the big question. I'd go first and lay it out there. It was my decision that changed things, it was what I did, and I needed to own it. I was terrified when I called her, I explained. All those years ago, I wasn't ready to be anyone's husband. I was barely keeping myself together. My parents had divorced, and I had no idea what a healthy relationship with a woman looked like. I knew ... I just knew that if I got married back then, I would have fucked it up and ruined more lives than just my own. So, I called her and ended it before I failed everyone.
She heard all that panic in my voice. Yes, I did say it was me when I called. She acknowledged that. I had said my inexperience, my insecurity was the problem, not her. She reminded me that she begged me not to end us. She saw how much I needed someone, and she wanted to be that person. I told her how sorry I was, and she shushed me. You have two wonderful children, she said, who would not be in this word if we had stayed together. I nodded and said she was right, of course. But I never forgot her, I responded. I kept track of her through friends until I heard she was married and doing well. Andi told me she did the same thing. Neither of us were saying much and the way things were getting silent terrified me. Did we have so little in common that we had nothing to say to each other?
Andi called the waitress over and grabbed the check. She took my hand and pulled. Come on, she said, I've something to show you. Curious, I followed. There's a hotel at 12
