CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
George climbed out of his Cadillac, walked around its frontend, and opened the door for Connie. He then put his arm around her and walked her to the front door of the Catholic Women’s Residence at ten minutes to ten, beating her curfew with minutes to spare. Once at the threshold, they faced each other.
“Goodnight George. I had a wonderful time.” She liked calling him George, although they had agreed that she would continue to address him as Dr. Dunker in the office. “Silly,” she thought, “but sensible.”
“Goodnight Connie. I had a wonderful time too.” They were face to face, two feet apart. His left hand held her right hand, and his right hand held her left hand, in a pose that wedding couples take at the alter during their vows. Neither spoke; they just looked at each other as if they could see beyond the aqueous humor, the limpid fluid within the eyeball between the cornea and the lens, and maybe beyond, into the initial depths of each other’s essence, to a place where they both wanted to take a deeper dive into each other.
For a moment, for both of them, time stopped, and all intrusions from the outside world ceased. For that matter, everything about the outside world had ceased. The only world that existed that very moment was the space they shared and the oneness they felt in that space. Poets would say their hearts beat as one, and physiologically, that actually might have been true at that moment.
Earlier that evening, over dinner at Mader’s restaurant, which was George’s favorite place, both of them had taken a big chance in their first encounter in telling each other their personal stories. That kind of exposure on a first date often doesn’t work; it carries too much information to process, too many feelings to make sense of, too many vulnerabilities to accept, and too much meaning that is absent of context. But for them, it worked perfectly. They felt an instant and deep attraction, something much more meaningful than most people experience on a first date, or even a twentieth one. Even if they couldn’t understand it, a bonding experience had occurred that evening, and they both had had enough experience in life to have no doubt that it was love that drew them together, and it was real.
What they didn’t understand at the time, but what they would come to understand later, is that they were two people who were drawn to each other through a profound shared sense of the deeply felt loss of a beloved spouse. Their broken hearts fit each other perfectly.
George looked at his watch, breaking the intensity they had been sharing for several minutes at the top of the steps. “It’s one minute before ten. You’d better ring.” He reluctantly let go of her right hand. She reached out and rang the doorbell, which was already close to her fingertips. Within seconds, she was buzzed into the building’s foyer. In the blink of an eye, Connie kissed George on the cheek and slipped as softly as a summer breeze through the open door, spun around for a second before it closed, looked at George, who hadn’t moved, and reminded him, “See you at six tomorrow night!” Then she walked down the hallway, turned left, and was out of his sight, but fully in his heart, as he was in hers.
That was the beginning of a whirlwind romance. Six months later, on Christmas Day, 1949, George proposed marriage to Connie, and Connie said yes. They were married June 10, 1950 at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Chilton. By the way, Virginia Stranski, the mother of an eight month-old baby girl, was Connie’s maid of honor, for the second time.
Life is so interesting. There are so many possibilities. It is safe to say that the possibilities are not only countless, but many are beyond our imagination. We might have one life to live, but we can actually live many lives in a single lifetime. Some are lucky enough to share much of one lifetime with one other individual in connubial bliss. But for many others, for various reasons, that doesn’t happen. However, sometimes we get another shot at living life blissfully in love. And sometimes that happens just when we thought it was most unlikely. Love may be elusive, but it’s out there.
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A Love Story with a Little Heartbreak Page 43