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
Labels: antique car, Emotions, friendship, history, real event, thoughtful
