Choices - Part 2 -- New Twang for the Heart

  

Daniel, Brandy and Sasha

          Dear Reader: Here is the second part to “Choices!” This is how Daniel and I met and became involved in New Hampshire. It is amazing, how two people travel from separate distances, meet in a common area, and then create a life together. I hope you enjoy this story!

Choices

by

B.D. Adams ©

Part 2 – New Twang for the Heart

            Where was I? Oh, yes ... 2002, I had just pulled into Becky’s driveway in Madbury, New Hampshire, after driving a two day trip from Columbus, Ohio. Becky and I were so happy that I made it to New Hampshire with no horrific occurrences on the road ... other than the mayhem of driving through New York City, The Bronx.

            Since the stroke, I knew I should not live alone again. That was a main reason I took Becky up on her invitation to move in with her. I was so glad she had the room for all my stuff, which included my little parakeets, George and Gracie. With their whistles and squawks, Becky got used to this new addition to her household, as well!

            All in all, this relocation was a blessing! I found a doctor who got me into all my continuing therapies. Madbury was in connection with Dover, NH ... sort of like a small metropolis area.

As it became more springtime and summer, I began to explore, acclimate myself, to my new surroundings. The 17 miles of ocean front were so pleasing, along with the rise of more miles of the White Mountains with all the lakes. I went on several jaunts around the State and was invigorated with my new surroundings! As it was for 2002, the climate was warmer than normal. I loved it!

            However, with my exploring, I looked for other, different stimuli. The Social Security Disability I received kept me afloat, but I so wanted to work ... even part-time. I did get a job at a camera store in Rochester, NH, (it closed a few years ago) not far from Becky’s home. A much smaller venue than the store in Columbus, but it was in photography, for which I was happy. Unfortunately, those nasty gremlins, as in Ohio, still harangued. However, none of these people knew me, so I just rolled with the punches.

            I enjoyed Becky and Mark’s (her long-term boyfriend) company, but I felt I should look for a fellow with whom I might be able to relate! Perhaps, it might be someone able to share this new way of life with me, be they an immigrant to NH (as I), or a native. At the same time, though, I debated if I really wanted to be tethered to a guy ever again. My ex-husband left his gremlins all over the place, which followed me to this location. I wanted to be cautious!

            Becky, with her caring, knew I looked at one of the “match” websites and knew that I had

“talked” with a couple of fellows. I even had had a couple of “dates,” but nothing panned out.

She wanted to encourage my “searches,” be supportive.

            It was now winter, just after the holidays, and there was already snow a few feet high. I was still working, but didn’t complain about the weather. As a former “Buckeye,” I was not scared of snow, but I just decided to hunker down for the winter with no further thoughts of finding a “friend” until spring. I had my VHS movies and the emails from friends for entertainment!

            One calm, uneventful evening, after dinner, I settled in to watch TV, Jeopardy!, in the living room. I sat covered with the afghan my aunt had made years ago in what had become my rocking chair. Becky was at her computer in her little “office.”

            The show was nearly over and Becky came into the living room to watch the Final Jeopardy ... she actually got the Final correct! I was impressed ... I didn’t get it correct. How sad for moi. The credits rolled at the end.

            “You doin’ anything real important now?” she asked, as a-matter-of-fact.

            “Nope ... what’s up?” I asked. I hoped whatever she wanted wouldn’t take me from the afghan because I was so nice and cozy.

            “I’d like for you to look at something on the computer,” she calmly said.

            “Awww, Becky ... is it really important?” I slightly protested. I put my arms under the afghan.

            She grinned nicely and said, “No ... I just want to show you someone.”

            “Someone?” I queried. She had sort of become my personal “match-maker.”

            “Just look at this guy. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” she specified.

            Well, I thought, ‘Look at the guy. What’s the harm?’

            We went into her office; she sat at the monitor and clicked-up a photo.

            My first impression was ‘what a great beard!’ OK ... slender, nice blue eyes, his eyes smiled as did his lips. Hmmmm ... I mused.

            “Well, what do you think? You haven’t puked, so he can’t be that bad,” Becky teased with a chuckle. “His name is Dan and he works and lives in W. Lebanon, Maine ... about ten miles from Rochester. He’s a carpenter and does construction work, currently for a photography studio in that area.” She stopped to give me a moment to digest what she said.

            I grimaced a little bit at her and said calmly, “Not bad ... sounds interesting. But, isn’t he one of yours?” I had to find out why she was being so gracious. She and Mark had been together for quite a while, but she always kept her eyes opened for someone “new.”

            “Not really. He’s a real nice guy ... too short for me, though.” This was one of her altruisms. She stood almost 5’10”. When she wore heels, she towered over me and anyone else under 5’9”. “I’ve told him all about you ... from Ohio, a photographer – recently divorced. He is interested!”

            Well, I decided nothing ventured, nothing gained! Because she didn’t mention if she told him anything about my physical disability, I figured she left that to me to handle. I told her to give him my email address. I figured when he saw me that would be the end of that relationship ... short that it would be.

            (My brain’s disability had gained much progress. My physical disabilities, however, still screamed that, “This woman is disabled!” Not able to hide something that is open to the world to see!)

            He didn’t email to me until the next day. I got it when I came home from the camera store.

            His email was comfortably long. He seemed to know something of photography, but he’d like to learn more from me; really into vintage cars, into sports on TV ... mostly football (a Patriot’s fan) and NASCAR. He was married and divorced twice ... had no contact with either ex-wife.

            I became more interested in this new person. I kept his photo handy, as I emailed back to him.

Dan – Thank you for your email. I really liked the photo Becky showed me (I hope you like my photo) and I liked your email. We seem to have a few things in common – football and car racing. Yes, I like NASCAR. J Hope you’re a Rusty-fan¹! Photography has been my life’s blood, but not now. I work in a camera store, just don’t shoot professionally any more. I would be happy to help you with your photo endeavors. Hope to hear from you again soon.

Take care – Brandy

            Well, we went back and forth for a couple of days with other emails, and then we spoke on the phone. I liked the timber of his voice. Not a bass ... maybe a baritone. We decided to meet ... with my disability and all. He called me to set the “date” for Friday ... this was Wednesday.

            I was not all that up on locations, even in Rochester, so Dan chose “Restaurant 103” ... right on Main St. I was glad of this selection ... I knew it, but had never been inside. It was not known as a fancy place, but it was known as quite nice eatery. It was a renovated old house made into a restaurant; old, dark brick with cursive-styled letters and numbers in a lighter brown color. Dan described the menu as regular New England fare, nothing fancy. His favorite dish in any restaurant was prime rib. Kind of “safe.” I just hoped the menu carried other selections that I’d like.

            “Well, I know how you look, but do you want to meet in the restaurant or in the parking lot?” I inquired. I intended to drive to the restaurant because I wanted to be safe/cautious, better to meet on equal turf until ... well, until.

            “Let’s meet in the parking lot. Not very romantic, but there is really no waiting area ... more like a small alcove for coats,” Dan explained. The lot was across the street from the restaurant, a public lot. Not too bad, well lighted.

This told me he had been to this restaurant a few times. I wondered if we’d run into any of his other “dates” to this venue. Wasn’t sure how gracious I’d be about that. (Hey, I’m human.)

            “OK ... well, I drive a very blue 1988 Pontiac Sunbird. Old, but it got me to New Hampshire,” I offered, and then asked, “What car do you have.”

            Very calmly, no fan-fare, he just said, “A silverish Lincoln Town Car. A light color.”

            “A Town Car,” I calmly echoed. Could this guy have money? Wasn’t sure if I liked that idea or not.

            “Don’t worry,” Dan read my mind, “It’s just transportation, an old one, but not as old as your Sunbird. I got it when I first moved here.”

            He had told me that he moved here from California ... a transplant like me ... so I could believe the car. He had been in Maine a little longer than me. But, a Lincoln Town Car?! That would be one of our subjects at the dining table.

            Well, all was set for Friday evening, 6:00pm. I worked only a few hours on Fridays, and he could set his hours, so all was confirmed. I was so nervous!

            That night, as I was in bed with my book, an antiquated memory crept into my thoughts. I remembered a teenage boy, two years older than me (already graduated from high school), who wanted to impress me by taking me to one of the nicest restaurants in Ft. Worth, TX. (Yes, Readers ... I’m from Texas!) He succeeded. I was smitten by this young man of good taste! In all honesty, however, this memory was a tainted one. He dumped me six months into the relationship. C’est la vie.

I could only wonder if this date would be only a memory for another time or would it be a new beginning, something new for my love-life.

            Thursday dragged by! When Becky got home from work, she quizzed me on my

wardrobe for the dinner-date. I had laid out a couple of ideas ... she surveyed with me. I didn’t want to dress too ostentatiously, if the car was as he said, merely transportation. However, if he

did have money/position, I didn’t want to dress too commonly, embarrass him. What a dilemma?!

            I decided to just be myself ... nice jeans, heel-less, dark brown leather boots and beige cable-knit sweater with one of my signature silk scarfs, tied loosely around my neck ... coordinated attire, not flashy. Becky approved.

            Friday morning crawled unmercifully! I worked until 1:00pm. I think my boss noticed how often I looked to the wall clock while I helped customers. He never asked anything, though.

            This was a cold winter day with fresh snow from the previous night. As I drove to Becky’s from work, I almost decided to call Dan to cancel the date. To date or not to date, that was the question. On the phone, he sounded very nice. I just kept his voice in mind. I had to do this date. I thought about this as an exercise for Speech Therapy. Good thoughts, only good thoughts!

            I ate a bit of lunch when I got home ... hungry, but didn’t want to spoil my dinner. I wouldn’t wait for Becky to come home from work to help me with anything. She enjoyed TGIF with co-workers and friends! Fridays were like that for her.

            I went on her computer to check my emails ... he might cancel. No, he didn’t ... his email said he was looking forward to our dinner date. The combination of relief and nerves churned my stomach. I had told my one good friend in Columbus about the date and her email merely said, “Go for it!” She was no help.

            Well, at about four o’clock, I dressed. I even put a little more make-up. I used to apply make-up for the women I photographed. Becky was still not home, so I donned my warm coat and black sock hat to get into my car. It was now a little after 5:00pm. I headed to Rochester.

            Because of the season, it was already dark. I always drove with caution, but in the dark, it was a little more so.

            Once I was in the town-proper, there was more illumination, much brighter. As I turned onto Main Street, I hoped there would be parking available in this public lot. Well, I would find out real soon ... I was about to turn into the lot.

            Uh-oh ... I believed I saw his Town Car already parked! My heart did a bit of thumping! I had forgotten how big those cars were! And, as fate would dictate, there was a spot across the island from him. Oh, boy.

            I pulled into the spot and saw Dan (who I figured was Dan) leave that Lincoln and steadily approach me. I calmly exited my car. He smiled widely, as I smiled and he gave me a hug.

            “Hi,” he said happily with a big grin. His voice was edged with nervousness.

            “Hi,” I echoed with my grin. Why were first meetings so nerve-wrecking?

            Our breath created a fog around our heads. Neither of us attempted to make the next move. He came to me, so I decided it was my move. “It’s rather chili ... let’s go inside,” I strongly suggested.

            He smiled nicely, as he asked, “Can you take my arm or do you need to use your cane?” We had to cross the street to get to the restaurant.

            “I’ll take your arm ... just please don’t sprint across the street,” I explained with a small smile.

            “What? You can’t do a 4-minute mile?” he giggled. He firmly, but calmly, held my arm to guide me across the street.

            His boots made him comfortably taller than me, but everyone was always a little taller than me. This might be the beginning of ... something. I still didn’t want to expect too much.

            During the short walk to the restaurant, I registered what I had seen with this new person. He wore a black, brushed leather bomber jacket, jeans, winter boots and a ball cap. The cap was printed with “Dodge.” I liked Dodge vehicles, but to wear this for a first date? In the

dead of winter? I would have to keep an open mind.

            When we entered the building, the coat hooks were jammed with coats. We opted to take our coats to the table. A waitress greeted us almost immediately and we were seated at a small, two chair table. I draped my coat across the back of my chair and stuffed my sock hat into one of the arms.

            As Dan arranged his jacket on his chair, I noticed that it was decorated with NASCAR Team logos. A Dodge ball cap ... a NASCAR jacket. This kind of bothered me. Was he gung-ho into NASCAR or was his motive meant to impress me. Right now, I was not amused. How sad ... strike one. He did remove his Dodge cap, so I gave back a half point.

            This was a rather noisy place with three waitresses zooming all over the place. Our waitress dropped off two menus in a polite manner and asked for our drink order. Dan ordered a Corona. I ordered a glass of Merlot.

            “You prefer wine?” Dan inquired, and then he said, “I don’t drink much wine. Maybe you can teach me about wine.”

            “I drink beer ... I like Corona. But, yes ... I prefer wine.” I was pleasant with my honest answer. I decided to change the subject, “You’re originally from Rhode Island?”

            The waitress brought our drinks and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

            I hadn’t opened the menu yet. “Can we have a moment, please?” I asked.

            She jetted off to other patrons. I began to study the menu for what I could order.

It didn’t take me long ... meatloaf was one of my favorites (hoped the seasoning was palpable) because I could cut it with a fork. (not able to use my right hand to cut meat, etc.)

            “That’s correct ... I grew up in Rhode Island. Stationed in California in the ‘80s. Stayed there after I retired from the Air Force in ‘87,” he confirmed then took a sip of his beer. “Moved here last year. And you? You moved here from Ohio?”

            “I’ve lived in many places. I moved here from Ohio, but I was born and raised in Texas,” I reminisced. “A few moves were due to my husbands ... because of military involvement, but my childhood relocations were because of my parents. My father managed to get employment each time to get closer to the Texas Gulf Coast. We originated in northern Texas, nice but he loved salt-water fishing. He doesn’t fish any more ... he has cancer.”

            In the nick-of-time, the waitress came back and took our food orders; medium rare prime rib for Dan and meatloaf for me. Nothing else was said about my father. I was glad.

            “You told me that you once had a 1957 Karman Ghia ... I can’t wait to show you my ’37 Plymouth Sedan,” Dan said with a lot of pride.

            “I look forward to it! I love older cars. Also, I once had a 1968 Austin-Healey 3000 ... nice in the corners,” I said with my pride. “I just go with what is available these days.” I smiled.

            I sipped a bit of my wine ... wanted to relax a bit more. At the present, things were going ... not bad.

            He quaffed a little more of his beer, and then put his attention to somewhere behind me. He made a short hand wave. His eyes followed who he recognized.

            I did not turn to see who was approaching ... I was afraid it was one of those other “dates!”

            “Dan ... nice to see you,” a male voice said. The man stood by the table to address Dan.

            “Hey, Bill,” Dan greeted. They shook hands. They visited briefly with the guy only giving me a nod before he went on.

            I was still not up on how men behaved in New England, but I thought Dan was very rude by not introducing me to his friend/acquaintance. This was a big faux-pas in my mind. Now, he was at strike two, which made the count 1 1/2!!

            I tried to mentally come up with a polite way to let him know that I thought he was rude to me. I mean, if this was a sample of his social make-up, we would not make it to dessert! I was obviously quiet.

            “Uh-oh,” Dan quietly observed. “I did something or said something wrong. I know this

silence.” He had a whipped puppy expression.

            “Both. You ignored me ... you did not introduce me to your friend.” With his acknowledgement, I wasn’t sure if he was sincere or about to lie like a rug!

He gave a labored sigh, as he said, “I’m sorry I was rude, Brandy. I’ve been working too hard and have only been around guys ... a lousy excuse, but I apologize.”

It wasn’t just his words ... his eyes said he was sincere in his apology.

We made it to dessert. New York Cheesecake with strawberry sauce for both of us! Yum!!

Not only did we make it to dessert, but we made it to the XXXVII Super Bowl. I had to apologize to him because I fell asleep during the game. By April, we moved into a small, comfortable cottage in Farmington, NH. We were able to compromise on his dining-out attire and he never ignored me again.

It is now January 2013, by this April, we will have lived together for ten years ... and counting.

“Love is the strength of how much a heart can stand in good times and bad.”  BDA

¹ Rusty Wallace – retired from racing in 2005