Hello faithful readers. It's been a while since I added to my "It's My Life" series. In the meantime I've decided to write about something that happened a little more recently.
This happened in the mid 90's. I was divorced from Mike and we were through, once and for all. I had moved to a larger city and had gotten a job as a clerk in a library.
I was pushing forty, alone and lonely, when I first noticed the young man. Typical of me, he had his sights already set on me much earlier, but I had not noticed.
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Chapter One - "He looks like "The Beaver!"
"Oh, Mrs. Browning?" my co-worker Anna chirped in a sarcastic tone. "Your favorite patron has a request for you."
I looked up from the pile of books I was trying to put in proper order to be shelved, and saw Robert on the other side of the counter with a big smile on his face.
Robert had on his traditional shirt and tie, which must have been the required uniform for his job as a student legislative assistant for a downstate Assemblyman, and his smile got wider when I greeted him in my usual manner.
"Morning Robert!" I said as I took his request from his hand. "What can I do for the future Governor?"
"The boss needs copies of a couple of articles," he replied.
As I wrote some additional information on the cards to make it easier for the stacks staff to retrieve them, Robert made his usual small talk.
"That's a pretty blouse, Mrs. Browning," Robert said as he fidgeted nervously.
"Thank you Robert," I said. "That's how you're going to make it to the White House someday. One fib at a time."
I didn't mind taking a compliment for a two year old blouse, especially when Robert was so sincere about it.
"That boy has got it bad for you," Anna mentioned to me as I took care of his request.
"And that ain't good," I replied. "He's got charm, manners and impeccable grooming. Everything you could ask for in a man. Too bad he's just a boy."
That was an exaggeration, of course, as I knew he had to be at least 18, but he wasn't much older than that. Since I was at least twice his age, it was just a crush by a lonely kid. I enjoyed being the object of any man's attention, but I did have my limits, or so I thought.
"He's a real cutie though," Anna added. "You know who he looks like? The Beaver! You know, like on Leave It To Beaver?"
"I guess," I said, hoping Anna would fall down the elevator shaft at lunch so that she would stop riding me. "I suppose that makes me his teacher. The one he had a crush on. What was her name... Miss Landers?"
In reality, he DID look like the Beav. Chubby little cheeks, and bad haircut and always looking like he was wearing his father's clothes, Robert was as cute as could be, especially with his perfect manners and gentlemanly ways.
"Hey, you could do worse - and have before, right?" Anna reminded me, reaffirming my own commitment to never tell anybody about my past again.
I smiled and rolled my eyes, not letting on that the very same thought had crossed my mind just as she was saying that.
...
Chapter Two: Spit it out.
It was couple of days later when Robert returned with another request. Actually two requests. The first request was easy enough to handle, as all I had to do was look up the Dewey Decimal number on the computer. The second request was a lot more work on both of our parts.
"I - um - er, well. I was thinking. You know. If you wanted to that is. I just didn't know and you don't have to because it's okay."
This went on for at least a minute. I watched my usually mild-mannered and eloquent Robert stammer and mumble almost incoherently as he tried to get a sentence out. His face grew red and sweat was beading up on his forehead, and I feared he was going to have a seizure right there on the public floor.
Robert had gotten off to a bad start seconds before, when I caught him peeking down the front of my blouse. Not usually the type to flaunt myself, this purple V-neck top was about as revealing as I would get a work.
The blouse was a barometer of how desperate a guy was. If he took the time to peek down there to inspect my sad little orbs, then I knew that the guy must either be extremely horny or in need of a laugh.
Lunch. It had something to do with lunch, I finally surmised.
"Spit it out Robert," I finally said with a chuckle. "I don't bite - at least not in public."
He wanted to know if I had gone to lunch yet, and if I hadn't, would I like to join him in the park?
"Sure," I said, looking up at the clock. It was 12:05, and I didn't go to lunch until 1. "Wait a second."
I went back to Anna, who was on her way out the door, and asked her to switch lunch times with me. Not usually a big deal between us, but she was halfway out the door when I caught her.
"Who am I to stand in the way of romance?" Anna quipped as she put her lunch back on her desk. "Can you fit a sandwich and a quickie in before one?"
"Get your mind out of the gutter," I cautioned her, after thanking her. "He's a gentleman."
"It wasn't him I was thinking about."
...
Chapter Three: In the park with Robert.
Lunch in the park with Robert was an extraordinary affair. Never in the history of mankind has a woman had more doors opened for her in less than an hour. I was pampered and treated like a Queen, or at least as much as one could be while sitting on a park bench (wiped off with a napkin by my personal Sir Galahad, of course.
It was way over the top and silly, and I loved it.
During that lunch, Robert was a dazzling conversationalist. He was interested in me and my past. I told him about my ex-husband Mike, leaving out the parts about him being a user and a scumbag, while omitting my mindless compliance with his every wish.
Robert told me about himself; he was 18 (almost 19 - in only four months he made clear), and had been accepted to Cornell in the fall on a full academic scholarship. He was very interested in politics, and when the chance for this internship came up he leaped at the chance to see the process up close.
"Girlfriend at home?" I asked, and was surprised at his reply. Not so much the fact that he said no, but more the way that he answered, as if no girl in the world could be interested in him.
Hell, I thought he was wonderful, and while I admit to not always having the highest standards, the fact of the matter was that this was just a nice kid - man, I mean.
As we walked around the area after eating, Robert explained the different governmental buildings that surrounded us, and what their functions were. He told stories of the history of our state government and the people that ran it, and occasionally ran it into the ground. He was a walking encyclopedia, and spoke to me as if he weren't instructing but merely talking.
"I'm sure you know all this," Robert said. "I just find it fascinating that all of this is happening around us.
"Some of it," I said, and didn't mention how little I did know.
I had lived in this city for five years, and was embarrassed that somebody half my age and who had grown up 150 miles from here probably had forgotten more about the city than I even knew. I barely knew who Alfred E. Smith was! Robert knew all the governors of the state in order, from Mario Cuomo back to George Clinton.
"George Clinton?" I asked. "Isn't he in a group? Parliament or Funkadelic or something like that?"
Robert didn't know what I was talking about, which made two of us. I was just trying to make sure he wasn't pulling my leg.
"George Clinton was the first governor, and he was also vice-president under Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, so I think he must not be the same one," James informed me.
"Oh, THAT George Clinton," I said, giving his arm a little squeeze.
If Robert had suspected that I was an idiot, my playful hug of his arm erased all that, as he seemed very excited over that brief show of affection.
"I had a wonderful time," I exclaimed as we ended up in front of the library a little after one. "I wish I had a longer lunch."
"You do?" Robert said.
"Of course, didn't you enjoy it?"
Robert went into his spastic mode again, and because I had to get back to work, cut him off after a few seconds.
"Look, do you have a pen and something to write with?" I asked, and Robert came up with a scrap of paper but nothing to write with.
"How's your memory?" I asked, and gave him my phone number. "Some night if you get bored and want to talk, give me a ring. Maybe we can get together sometime."
The sight of Robert silently mouthing my phone number over and over as he stuck out his sweaty hand for me to shake, and continuing to do so earnestly as I went through the revolving doors, gave me goose bumps.
I was certain that Robert would remember my phone number, and so I wasn't really surprised when my phone rang. The fact that I heard it ringing the moment I unlocked the front door of my apartment building after work, and kept ringing while I climbed the three flights to my apartment, and continued to ring as I fumbled with my keys - now that was a little surprising.
...