When I first realized that Claire and Marilyn had such similar personalities, it wasn't overwhelming. It didn't even strike me as that significant. But then I began to notice more and more about their basic dispositions that were almost identical. It was then that it hit me, and I knew that it was already too late.
I didn't want to run. That's what was so surprising. I had over the last few years, become the master of the great escape. If someone wasn't interested, it didn't matter. No big deal. Just let go and move on.
And if it seemed like it mattered a little too much, if they wanted more than I could give, well then it was time to pull back and little by little begin distancing myself.
And hope that they didn't really notice or weren't too upset.
But they usually did, and they usually were.
But that was life. C'est La Vie.
That's what I had learned from the last several years of being single.
When I first became separated after nearly twenty years of marriage, I was NOT looking for anyone new. I didn't have any fantasy going on in the back of my mind about buying a Porsche and dating young, beautiful women or even older ones. I just wanted peace and quiet- and time to make art with perhaps write a poem or two now and then if the inspiration overtook me. That's what I wanted.
But fate has a way of interfering with the very best of our logical plans of smooth sailing.
When I first met Marilyn, I was not attracted to her At All. Period.
My first impression was that she didn't know how to dress for the kind of job that she was applying for. I mean, come on. This was kindergarten. And I had already found the person that I wanted to work with. I was certain about that. Marilyn was a last minute arrival to the pool of new teacher candidates and I considered the whole business of meeting with her a mere formality.
When my boss told me that she actually felt that this young women who had just returned to the country after teaching overseas for three years was in her opinion more complimentary and a better balance to my own strengths, I was disappointed. I was more than a little upset with my boss. More than a little upset for quite some time.
But little by little...
My opinion of this new kid, half my age, began to soften.
I hadn't been mad at her, I may have even overcompensated. Trying to be nice, because I was so angry with my boss. But that's what tends to happen with brand new principals. So often, they believe they need to control every move that everyone in the school makes. It's terrible. Especially after having an administrator who trusted you to do what you knew was best for the kids.
After a little while I did begin to like Marilyn quite a bit. She was a good kid, but still, I didn't find her to be especially attractive. I did notice that she always wore push up bras, but I notice details like that.
I'm usually a pretty good observer. Hey, I'm a sculptor.
Marilyn seemed to enjoy working with me too, and always tried to be helpful and supportive.
That was part of the job, it worked both ways. Each of us tried to be helpful to the other.
What was interesting was that in this kind of situation, I was usually the listener. All of my other women partners had done most of the talking. I was good at listening, and always comfortable with it. But Marilyn was a listener too. She had been since she was young. She had been a shy, skinny little girl who wore glasses and learned a great deal by simply listening.
An Expert Listener. Just like me, only better it seems.
Like me (at that time) Marilyn never liked to give away too much information about herself. Somehow, she managed to get me to do the majority of the talking. She probably knew twice as much about me as I knew about her. And Marilyn managed to keep it that way. In fact the balance became even more one-sided than before after my ex and I separated.
I remember saying, "You must be so bored."
She answered, "No, you need to talk."
So I talked and she listened.
Hour after hour, day after day, week after week.
We settled into that.
I came to depend on it
and like it.
We were always together.
Lunches, after hours. Always talking and talking.
Even going out drinking with my friends after work now and then.
We were very comfortable together.
It still didn't hit me that she was so attractive
and that I was drawn to her so emotionally
until one day , it was on a Wednesday, I think,
when she told me that she needed to drive up to San Francisco
over the weekend and wasn't really looking forward to it.
As I replayed her words a moment later and then several more times,
I began to wonder if she wanted me to come with her,
and that perhaps she wanted something more than just
someone to help keep her awake as she drove.
I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what it might me, even though I told myself again and again that it couldn't be true.
That there was just no way.
But it seemed like, maybe
it
could be.
We did like being together.
Not knowing
wondering
if it really could be true
changed everything.
When I saw her again on Monday, I learned that she had gotten sick
from fast food she thought.
If I had gone along that might not have happened.
We probably would have stopped and eaten at a real restaurant.
Was it a sign?
Should I have gone?
I actually felt a little guilty.
At the end of the day
(it took a long long time to come)
when the children left, Marilyn did more of the talking than usual.
She went on for a while. I just waited, adding an insignificant comment
or question here and there.
I was waiting for her to finish so that I could tell her what had happened-
to explain that even though I was pretty sure I was wrong
about her wanting me to come along,
the whole thing of wondering had changed the way I saw her
and I wanted her to go out with me.
I was a little nervous. I knew that she'd probably say no, but I had to say it.
Our relationship was based on being able to say whatever we needed to say.
It was about being honest with each other.
And I thought that it was the sort of thing she'd rather know than not know.
Later she might have wished I had just kept it all to myself and maybe bury it.
But that's not what happened.
She seemed surprised, but not uncomfortable.
She did say that we couldn't go out, because we were partners.
And for a time, it seemed like everything was back to normal.
Then one day, about two weeks later, I said to her,
"Marilyn, I really like you, and I want you to go out with me."
I had expected another no. I had prepared myself for that.
I felt that I was saying what I needed to say-
just to get it out
and not leave that feeling pent up inside of me.
But much to my surprise she smiled cautiously and quietly said, "OK."
I couldn't believe it.
I don't remember anything else that we said.
I think I was so completely stunned.
I do remember something later, walking at the beach by myself-
Actually, I was walking down the long hill, between the Chevron refinery and the Department of Water and Power generating station before I got to the beach. It's not the most picturesque place, but I was so happy. There were three tankers out in the bay. I had never before seen more than two.
I took it as a sign. Thank you, Chevron!
It seemed like something magical.
to be continued at the Low Tide Desparados blog site here on Blogger
copyright 2010 Craig Parks
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