During my high school years I attended a large downtown church, where I was an active member of the Senior High youth group.
We were a pretty good bunch of kids and didn't have any problems with having leaders not much older than we were. In fact, we felt they were more in tune with our generation, more so than the older leaders we had in the past. Our leaders during my junior and senior years were a young newlywed couple, Mike and Elizabeth Miller, both in graduate school.
Let me tell you, I had a major crush on Mr. Miller. He could play basketball with the boys and also listen to our girl problems, offering advice about growing up, and a shoulder we could cry on when it was hard to cope with growing up. Whenever we broke up into teams I managed to be on his team. When we did skits I managed to get a part in a scene he was in. Understand, I didn't hang all over him, or anything like that, but in retrospect, I guess everyone could tell how it was. I would never admit it at the time, however.
After graduation I went to college and fell in love. We got married right after graduation. I got a job in marketing with a company in Chicago while my new husband attended law school. After he graduated he found an entry position with a local firm. I still made an hour and a half commute to work so Robert could work locally. This caused a little friction between us, as I thought we should move halfway between our jobs. There were other early warning signs of trouble ahead over the issue of starting a family, but we were passionate for each other and so glossed these things over.
A couple of years later he got an offer to join a large firm in Washington, DC. That caused a major rift in our marriage, as I was on my way up in my company and loved my work, but he wanted to get a better position, too. My company didn't have an office in DC, so I would have to give up everything if we moved. I know that it sounds selfish of me, but that wasn't the only problem. We had known for some time that Robert always wanted kids while I was very career-minded and definitely did not. We had been seeing a marriage counselor about that already when the job issue came up. Eventually we decided to amicably split. I had worked to put him through law school, and he did appreciate it, but he was not willing to make any sacrifices for me. After we split I moved into the city, where I bought an apartment. That cut my commuting time and cost considerably.
As part of my marketing job my company sends me around the country to various conferences and conventions, usually accompanied by a colleague. I design all the visual presentations we make for our company display in the exhibition halls during the conferences. My co-worker and I then take turns staffing the exhibit booth, answering questions about the company, and selling our services. Often I attended some of the technical sessions and seminars to keep up with where the industry is headed. We always try to be ahead of other companies when it came to new ideas and approaches.
The largest of the conventions we work at every year is the annual Amalgamated Technologies meeting, which drew several thousand participants from all over the world. Each year the event is in a different city around the country. One year the conference was held right here in Chicago. I attended all the seminars I could, and wandered around the exhibition hall, talking to other exhibitors when I wasn't at our own display. This conference was a source of many new business contacts that, hopefully, would turn into contracts for us.
Late Thursday afternoon I found my schedule empty for the last of the sessions, and my colleague was holding down the fort at our display, so I headed to the hotel bar to unwind before heading home. The bar was crowded, but I spied a vacant seat, the only one left at the bar, so I took it, and struck up a conversation with the man next to me. I knew he was attending the conference by the company name tag he wore. He said that his company sent him to this conference every year, but this was his first trip to the windy city, as it was the first time the conference had ever been held in Chicago. We introduced ourselves and exchanged business cards; I thought there was something familiar about the name on his, but that often happens -- I mean you often run into people who remind you of other people.
As we chatted I learned that he was widowed and had a six year old daughter. He was proud to show me pictures of his little girl. Apparently his wife died in a terrible traffic accident, where her car was T-boned by a drunk driver. His wife was killed instantly, but the little girl, then a baby, in the back seat, had suffered only minor physical injuries. That was almost five years ago. He worked hard to provide for his daughter, and he missed her when he was away, but she was in good hands staying with his late wife's parents for the week. We also discovered that we had once lived in the same city, and quizzed each other about people and places we knew, looking for common connections. He mentioned the church he attended while he was in graduate school. I said that I attended there also.
All of a sudden it hit me. I looked at his card again, gasped and put my hands to my mouth in surprise.
"Oh my god -- you're that Mike Miller - our youth counselor!"
A look of recognition suddenly appeared on is face. "Your name, Martie Jackson, threw me. You used to be Martie Waggoner, didn't you?"
"I'm really sorry to hear about Elizabeth. I liked her a lot. I remember that she had a special connection with the junior high girls. The boys -- well you may have noticed what they thought."
"Thanks. I know you cared about her. I know everyone in the group liked her."
We were silent for a moment. "I had a major crush on you, you know"
He laughed. "Everybody in the group knew."
"Was it that obvious?" I laughed, too. "Look, Mike, I am attending the conference, too, but actually live here in Chicago. Why don't you come over to my place tonight and I'll cook you a real meal."
"That sounds terrific, Martie. Restaurant food gets tiresome after awhile. I'm not a bad cook, but at home I even get tired of my own cooking."
I gave him my address, and told him it was only a short cab ride. We arranged for him to get there around 7:00 PM.
I flew home to start dinner preparations, stopping to pick up a bottle of a nice red wine I liked and some fancy bread. There was no time to change clothes. Everything had to be perfect. Dinner had to be something fast to make, yet something that would show well. I decided on fettuccini Alfredo and a nice salad, accompanied by the wine. What to put on the table? A candlelight dinner would seem to be pushing it a bit, so I found some decorative items to use as a centerpiece. There was just enough time to touch up makeup before he would be here. Why did I tell him 7:00 instead of 7:30?
At the appointed time the bell rang, and as I opened the door I was presented with a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, but a nice colorful, tasteful bouquet. I let him in, and gave him a quick tour of my place, except for my bedroom. I had gotten off late that morning and hadn't made my bed, so I kept my bedroom door closed. I had done fairly well for myself and was proud of my home. The flowers now became the table centerpiece.
I have been told that I am a good cook, and he seemed to enjoy the meal, and complimented my wine choice. After we ate we went to the living room area and sat on the sofa to talk, taking the remains of the bottle of wine with us. I laughed to myself as I noticed that I was still sitting rather close to him. As we chatted I poured two more glasses of the red wine.
I proposed a toast to our mutual business success, and we clinked glasses together. What happened next was something quite bizarre. My wine glass broke. It must have had a scratch in it or something, I don't know, but the bowl of it actually shattered. Isn't it funny how sometimes things happen and you seem to see them in slow motion? The wine from my glass seemed suspended in the air before falling. He jerked his glass back and wine sloshed out of it as well. In an instant we were both soaked down the front of our shirts all the way to our laps.
I jumped up and surveyed the damage.
"This is my best blouse, and it will be ruined if I don't get it cleaned right away. Your clothes will probably stain also if we don't clean them!"
I rushed toward my bedroom and called over my shoulder that I was going to have to change, and would need to attend to the stains immediately.
"Your clothes will need it too. Take them off and I'll do them all at the same time. I'll get you something to wear until the laundry is finished."
I could see him start to remove his shirt as I closed the bedroom door to change.
I couldn't believe the extent of the wine soaking. I must have poured the glasses really full. It penetrated everything. "The wine even soaked through to my underwear," I called through the closed door. "I suspect it did the same to you. Take everything off. Here is something you can put on while the clothes are washed. Not fancy, but I think you won't feel too girly in them. There are towels in the closet next to the guest bathroom that you can use to clean up. When you're finished just put your clothes on top of the washer." I cracked the bedroom door open and handed out a pair of thin black rayon workout pants with a white stripe down the leg and a drawstring waist that seemed like they might fit, and an old tee shirt that was too large for me. The tee shirt said 'Chicago Cubs' on the front. I heard him laugh as he saw it.
I removed my underwear and had to decide what to put on. I thought about a red lounging outfit I sometimes wear when I have girlfriends over for the evening. The outfit consisted of elastic waist long pants, a matching button front top, and a light matching robe that tied around the waist. It is really comfortable, made of nice, smooth satin that feels oh, so good on the skin. I feel luxurious when I wear it. In my haste to attend to my stained blouse and skirt I didn't take the time (or was it on purpose?) to put on a bra. I have done that often, and with my girlfriends it didn't matter. I didn't think twice about it, after all there was the robe as an extra layer.
After I tied the robe around myself I rushed out to the washer with all my stained articles, underwear included. Mike's clothing, including purple-stained underwear, was piled on top of the washer. I grabbed my stain treatment liquid and set to work rubbing it into the fabric. As I treated Mike's underwear I thought about when I used to do that for Robert.
My mind was totally absorbed by the task at hand, although at one point I thought I heard Mike doing something in the kitchen. After I got everything into the washer I headed to the living room, and got there just as he entered from the kitchen.
"Holy cow! Martie!"
