This was a beautiful young lady, with a kind and loving face. She had some extra pounds, but was not obese. She was wearing a simple gold wedding band. I looked her in the eye and my first words were: "That guy was not your husband, was he?" She was stunned, but admitted that it was her "boyfriend."
"The wedding ring," I said, "is to keep guys from hitting on you while you are here." She nodded. And then we began to talk. She could not believe that I had broken her "cover" so quickly. Takes one to know one, but she did not know my background. I simply told her that there was not the right ambiance and interaction in their arrival and parting for them to be married.
Over the next couple of weeks, I became completely enamored of this young lady, who was many years my junior. There is no place for hanky-panky at the retreat - too open and public and few private rooms. So, I am not sure we ever hugged or kissed while there. But, we both were bonding and it was a serious bond. All built on chemistry, common interests, and lively discussions. I'll call her Mary - to protect her identity.
Because I respected that she had an ongoing relationship, I did not ask where she lived or ask for her phone number. She did say that she lived in the Dallas area. Me too. We left the retreat on different days, and I quietly shed a few tears, knowing I would never see her again.
Several months later, I was in a supermarket in N. Dallas. In the line was a lovely, svelte, young lady. Then it hit it. My God! It was Mary! In a city of over a million people, she was standing in the same grocery line. I approached her, and the mutual look of surprise and wonderment was something I wish I had on video. I asked how she and her boyfriend were doing. She had left him and was living alone, she said. She lived in an apartment about two miles from my townhouse. This was too much.
Mary invited me to her apartment for dinner. The bond and attraction that we had formed at the fasting place unleashed itself in days of pure joy and wonderment. Wonderment that we had "found" each other again. Within a few weeks, she had moved in with me. It was to be one of the most joyous relationships of my life. We did simple things, like movies, modest dinners, watching TV, and going for long walks. Always we were holding hands. My boss called our relationship "sickening." Sickening, he said, that two people could be so in love. Later, he and his wife divorced. "Sickening," it turned out, was jealousy.
Mary used to come to the Aerobics Center as a guest, where I was a long-time member. One day, an attorney friend of mine saw Mary on the jogging track and said, "Come here, look at that woman. She is one of the most beautiful women to ever come here."
"I know," I said. "We are living together and probably will get married." It's a guy thing, but I got instant respect around the club.
Along the way, I got very upset with my job and was having a hard time deciding what to do. One night, Mary asked what she could do to help. I knew that without the obligation to look after her financial and emotional needs, I would quit my job in a minute. "Leave," I said. A few days later, I came home and her closet was empty. Jesus. You are supposed to talk these things out. Everybody says dumb things under stress. But, she took me at my word. I quit my job and moved to Hawaii to lick my various wounds.
Several years later, I was back in Dallas and had gotten a lot of notoriety for my first novel. I got a call from Mary. She wanted to take me to lunch. We met in Addison, Texas. Mostly, she wanted to congratulate me on the success of the book and thank me for what we had meant to each other. And to admit that she was sorry she left. The bad news for me was that she had gotten married. Since I do not have affairs with married women, I knew that was the end. This would possibly be the last time we would see each other. And it was.
In the ensuing years, I kept thinking that she might get a divorce and call me for lunch. From time to time, I have a letter published in the Dallas paper or the WSJ, and old friends often drop me a note or call to catch up. They find me, even here in the Outback.
I am an incurable romantic. I always felt that God had brought Mary and I together. How else can you explain her plopping down on the couch across from me at the fasting retreat, hundreds of miles from our home city - and me saying, "That guy who brought you here is not your husband, is he?" And us ending up in the same supermarket checkout line in Dallas months later? But, we had our one miracle. She never again called or wrote.
I should never have suggested she leave. And she should have never taken me up on it. Who needs "Day of our Lives"? Truth is stranger than fiction.
For any young people who might read this. You never lose your capacity to love, to dream, to hope - or it's time to check out. Years ago in Hawaii, a young lady I knew was visited by her father, who was about 80 years old. He and I became good friends. I will never forget this 80- year-old man telling me about his "new girlfriend" and how much he loved to hug and kiss her. Relationships are what keep us going- and what really count in life. Often we forget that in the frantic scramble to live in a big house and drive a fancy car. Hug someone you love. Tell them today you love them. Just in case.
M.B. - I hope by some miracle you read this. I have never forgotten.
Richard Rhodes
02/26/2002