Love Will Find a Way

"Geez," thought Charlie, "I can't believe I'm sitting here jealous of squirrels. Even they get more action than I do. How sad is that?"

This thought scrambled into his mind as he watched two squirrels apparently lit up with speed, bobbing and weaving near a tree. In their helter-skelter way they repeatedly approached one another, each putting it's paws gently about the other's neck and seemingly playfully pecking the face of the other. Squirrel love.

Charlie sighed. He just couldn't watch anymore. What had his life become when he even envied squirrels? He stood up from the peeling park bench and began his long, lonely walk home.

He walked in a daze, his many hurts and disappointments hovering and circling about him like vengeful wraiths...taunting and humiliating him. They laughed at him...pointing out his many flaws. They reminded him of his failures with the opposite sex. They showed him mirror images of himself, reaffirming to him that he was the kind of man that didn't get a second look from either women or men. He just floated through life not impressing anyone. Oh, sure, the wraiths jeered, you've got a great sense of humor, and you're kind and giving...but who cares about that? You're just over forty now, and all that sense of humor has gotten you is tiny wrinkles at the corners of your eyes.

Has a good joke ever won you a woman? Has your quick wit garnered you candlelit evenings? Of course not. Hell, even squirrels get more action than you, snickered the circling wraiths, repeating his own words. And look at that little spare Goodrich you're getting. Oh, that'll have them swooning in droves! As he walked down the busy street, alone in the mass of humanity, he forced back a tear that tried mightily to sneak out from the corner of his eye. The dizzying antics of the squirrels again entered his thoughts, and though the wraiths for the moment had floated off to prepare for their next onslaught to his ego, along with them they took his last vestiges of hope. He sighed, resigning himself to yet another empty, meaningless night.

He thought about his past relationships, those all too few and fleeting relationships, one failure after another. If a woman cared about him for more than a month it was a miracle success in his life...a milestone. Mostly, his life was a series of seemingly endless rejections. He forgot exactly at what point he had simply given up, not being able to stand another rejection. When exactly was it that he'd curled up into himself and erected his mighty wall of solitude? Was it ten years? Fifteen? More? What did it matter? And what good would that information do him anyway? It surely wouldn't change a thing. Maybe some omnipotent power had other plans for him.

Maybe he was meant to be alone and lonely. Maybe, he thought, with another tear straining to break free, he was meant to suffer. Maybe he should just give up...resign himself to living alone for the rest of his days. What, he thought with finality, is the point of fighting it? It's simply meant to be. The tear broke free momentarily, to be quickly swiped away by Charlie's hand...a deft motion his hand had learned well on many a lonely night.

As Charlie shuffled toward his small apartment, he bumped into growling people who harped at the lonely man for not watching where he was going. He looked steadily at the ground before him, shoulders slumped...defeated...the walk of a hopeless man. He came to his street and turned the corner, his feet, devoid of any purpose at all, shuffling sadly along.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement. First, a flash of white light, then a squeal, out-of-focus items flying about, a sound of tearing paper and solid objects bounding along the street...and finally the giggles of passersby...and the inevitable, "What a geek."

Charlie's eyes slowly gained focus, the white light dulled and his head cleared. The various sounds subsided and all seemingly returned to normal. He looked ahead of himself, still trying to unravel events. As he continued to look in his usual downward direction, his eyes came to rest on the woman he'd blundered into and knocked on her keester. Expecting the usual tirade of insults, Charlie braced himself, sputtered out apologies and hurriedly began racing around for her escaping grocery items, gathering them up in his arms as the bag they were in was now just so much shredded brown paper. He continued fretting about her scattered items until he'd captured each and every one, not once stopping his copious apologizing. When he finally stood up, arms full, he saw the woman still sitting there...and, of all things, she was smiling!

Shocked by this, he could only think he'd somehow knocked her senseless. Oh, my God, he thought, I'll need to get her to a hospital! Slowly, the woman's hand came up.

"Well, the least you could do, Charlie, is help me up!"

Not knowing how to accomplish this at first, he looked around for something to put the produce into, but finding nothing, he shoved it all to one side, holding onto all of it with one arm, freeing the other. He held out his hand and grasped hers, pulling her up off the dingy sidewalk. It was as he was pulling her up that he noticed two things. First, the flowery rose petal pattern of her billowy summer dress, and second...he knew her.

As he balanced her shopping items in one arm and helped her up with the other, Charlie finally recognized Margaret...though she preferred to be called Margie. She worked in the small gift shop at his office, and he'd seen her almost every day for the past two years, though he'd always been too shy to speak to her...and she never spoke much to him, only enough to be courteous as he made his various purchases there. But she'd always smiled warmly and he had always done the same.

She was a very pretty woman, approaching forty, her face showing evidence of much laughter over the years. She was ever so slightly plump, but with her hourglass figure still intact, which Charlie had seldom failed to notice. He had always thought her a delightfully attractive woman, and her voice was sweet and sultry at the same time. He'd often considered asking her out for coffee, but his self-doubts had always ended the idea well in advance of actually carrying it out. His nagging wraiths had always talked him out of it. Another rejection, they assured him. And he'd always heeded them. When you give up on ever finding someone to love, you never again see the sense of even trying. Without hope, there is no effort.

"My God, Margie? Is that you? I'm so sorry. I really am. I don't know what I could've been daydreaming about. Are you okay?"

She laughed at his obvious discomfort with the entire situation. But she assured him, "I'm fine, Charlie...relax. It is Charlie, right?"

He nodded, a part of him actually sad to admit it. Margie dusted off her flowery dress and Charlie again admired it's simple attractiveness. Even though the dress was flowing in the gentle breeze and Margie's hands were batting at it to knock off any sidewalk contamination, Charlie could still see her pleasant shape within that billowy dress...and it brought a rare smile to his face.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked, still wondering why she wasn't more upset at being rammed by a daydreaming idiot.

"Yes, really, I'm ok. No harm done. But I am curious to know where you were just now...Mars? Jupiter? Or maybe just somewhere in the Bahamas?" She said all this with the most musical laughter Charlie had ever heard...and, despite himself, he actually smiled again.

Taking his cue from her delicious personality, Charlie allowed his devil-may-care humorous side to come out of hiding. He generally saved his quick wit for parties and such, but he just felt so enchanted by this lovely woman that he un- locked that door and out came his rare good humor, the humor Charlie thought had died ages ago.

"Well, actually," he quipped, "I was out of town for a moment, but I'm back now. I'm just sorry that the bus had to hit you as it was pulling into the station."

They chuckled together for a moment, and then Charlie almost lost his grip on her groceries. Getting them back under control, he said,

"I actually think I've got all your items here. Sorry, but your bag is trashed."

"Well, then," Margie smiled, "you'll just have to do the gentlemanly thing and carry my wares all the way to my home for me." she laughed that musical laugh again and added, "Don't worry, kind sir, it's not far. It's just another half block."

With that, she turned and began to walk. When she noticed that Charlie was still stationary, she stopped and turned back to look at him.

"You coming, Sir Lancelot?"

Charlie blushed and looked back down at the ground. But he hurried to catch up to her all the same. He found her company delightful. Dare he hope? Should he maybe bring up the idea of them having coffee together sometime?

A single wraith circled his head, jeered and said, Oh, come now, Charlie...just because she wants you to carry her stuff home for her? Get real. You trashed the lady...she just needs you to carry her stuff. Nothing more. Get a grip.

And, with a sigh, Charlie believed...and the coffee idea was buried deep behind sad eyes.

"Boy, once you start daydreaming you don't ever stop, do you?"

Charlie's head jerked up to see Margie had stopped and was holding out her hand in preparation for Charlie's second collision of the day with her. He stopped in time to avoid accosting her attractive form yet again, and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry...out of town again."

Margie smiled and replied, "I'm taking away your bus tickets."

She laughed sweetly and shook her head, and Charlie permitted himself a chuckle as well.

"Anyway, Charlie, we're here. This is my humble abode...such as it is. Would you mind carrying my things upstairs for me? It's the least you can do for trying to make me part of the sidewalk."

Charlie's head shot up, a look of mild hurt in his eyes. She was upset after all, he thought. But Margie laughed again and said,

"Wow...you are way too serious. I'm just teasing you, Charlie. Loosen up. C'mon in, Mr. Space Cadet."

And, for the first time in many years, Charlie entered a woman's apartment.

Charlie followed Margie up the steps to her apartment, struggling to keep her groceries from bounding back down the stairs to the street. She turned the key in the lock and forced open the sticky door with a push of her shoulder. She smiled sadly. "Like I said, this is my place...such as it is."

She ushered Charlie, still battling heroically with her shopping wares, into her modest living room. It was tastefully decorated, but, then, Charlie expected no less. Bright landscapes and seascapes adorned otherwise bland walls. Knickknacks abounded on shelves and end tables. Everything was neat and tidy, though the collector pack-rat in her was evident throughout the room. Tiny animal figurines, porcelain children in various acts of mayhem, and even a few humorous figures of people in different professions with exaggerated facial and body features, all dotted every available surface. But it was all arranged and organized neatly so as to not give the impression of clutter. Charlie admired them openly, and smiled yet again...and noting to himself that he did so, he wondered wryly if his face could take the strain.

"Well," sighed Margie, "they're not Hummels, but I like them."

"They're quite nice..very humorous, too, especially the children. Very cute. You obviously have not only good taste, but a wonderful sense of humor."

This seemed to please Margie no end and she beamed a radiant smile and thanked Charlie for saying so. They looked into each other's eyes for a seemingly very long time, until suddenly a can of soup finally managed to escape Charlie's desperate grasp...and it was Margie's turn to apologize.

"Oh, Charlie...I'm so sorry. Here I am babbling on and you're still holding onto my things," she said nervously as she bent to pick up the wayward can.

"That's ok." Charlie actually permitted himself a rare laugh.

"Bring those in here," said Margie, pushing her way through a swinging door to her small kitchen. She held the door for Charlie and he went through it into what proved to be a delightfully homey little kitchen. She indicated to him to put her purchases on the table and he did so, taking care not to let any more items escape.

"Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate it."

"Well, it was my fault in the first place, so it's the least I can do."

When Margie walked over and flipped on the kitchen light, it was the first time either of them realized it was becoming darker outside. Almost as one, the two of them walked over to the kitchen window and peered out. A typical summer storm was fast approaching from the West, the clouds and the still distant rumbling becoming more ominous with each passing minute.

"Well," said Charlie, reluctance and disappointment in his voice, "I should be leaving. I'd like to get to my place before all hell breaks loose out there."

"You're not serious!," Margie immediately replied, "it's going to come down any minute. You'll get drenched. And the way your luck's going today, you'll sleepwalk your way right into a lightning bolt!"

Charlie, while chuckling at her comment, begged to differ. Smiling his best smile, he looked Margie in the eye and said, "Oh, I don't know...I think my luck so far today has been just fine."

Margie's face flushed, but she returned his smile. And, did Charlie imagine it? Was there just a hint of a glimmer in those lovely eyes? Was it just that his comment flattered her, or...could there possibly have been something more? A pesky wraith circled above Charlie, jeering and taunting, telling him yet again to get a grip. She was flattered by a sweet comment, nothing more, it told him. But, oddly, Charlie wasn't listening to it. A tiny ember was flickering into fragile life in Charlie's heart. The wraith still chided him, but Charlie heard only Margie's voice.

"Well, I won't have it, Charles. I can't have you blundering into a lightning bolt and having that on my conscience the rest of my life. I would really prefer it if you stayed right here and had dinner with me tonight. You can wander around trying to get yourself fried if it's still storming after dinner."

Startled by her use of "Charles" instead of "Charlie", he looked at Margie to see her standing there with her hands on her hips in an obvious show of defiance. It was very apparent to Charlie that resistance, as they say, was futile. Dinner it was.

"I guess you're right. Maybe it would be better if I stayed for dinner...as long as it's not an imposition."

"Oh, of course it's not, Charlie. I've got plenty, and it'll be nice to have company for dinner for a change"

Under his breath, Charlie sighed, "Yes, it would."

"Now, you go sit in the living room. Watch the TV if you like. You can even watch a video. I don't have many, but there should be something there you can enjoy until dinner is ready. I'll cook us a nice hot meal and then you can go play with the lightning bolts if you feel the need to."

Permitting himself still more laughter, Charlie boldly stated, "It seems I've already walked into one lightning bolt today."

They smiled warmly at each other...and this time Charlie was sure there was more in that twinkle. Maybe...just maybe...

Turning to go into the quaint living room, Charlie felt a warmth come over him. He smiled continuously from the kitchen all the way to the sofa in the living room...and noted that his face held up nicely. Hope, for a long time a stranger in Charlie's life, was fanning that struggling ember in his chest. For the first time in more years than he could remember, Charlie was truly happy. Still, a tiny part of him couldn't help but wonder when it would end...when it would all come crashing down around him...when reality would shove itself in his face as it always did.

But, this time it seemed different. Even through his doubts and fears, Charlie was now listening only to himself. He was totally ignoring the pesky wraith and its occasionally circling brethren. Grumbling, snorting it's displeasure, the annoyed wraith flew away, leaving Charlie to his own devices.

Charlie, still smiling, decided to turn on the television, ambling contentedly over to it, and then made his way back to the plush sofa. Sinking into it, he couldn't help but reflect on all that had transpired today. From being envious of squirrel romance to sitting here in Margie's warm apartment, about to have dinner with her and just enjoy her company. What the hell, he thought, maybe at the very least he had gained a new friend, and maybe the days and nights of his life won't be quite so lonely anymore. That alone was enough to make him feel warm inside...dispelling a small portion of the years of empty chill.

Opting to not use the VCR but rather watch whatever tripe might be on the tube, Charlie flipped channels. What luck! An old episode of Outer Limits...one he hadn't seen in some 20 years or more! As he watched, his nostrils occasionally catching delicious aromas from the kitchen, Charlie's mind worked on how he might possibly make this more than just a chance meeting, how he might make it an actual friendship. His mind wouldn't even consider the possibility of making it more than a friendship...though he wished he could. So, he had settled on the possibility of a lasting friendship with Margie. That was his goal.

Interrupting Charlie's daydreaming yet again, Margie burst into the living room, bringing a veritable horde of wonderful scents with her from the kitchen.

"Dinner's cooking nicely. You ok out here?"

"I'm fine," said Charlie, "In fact, I've just discovered and old Outer Limits episode on the TV. Haven't seen it in years."

"Really?" was her reply, and then she looked at the TV too. She smiled and said, "Are you sure that's an Outer Limits? Looks like a Twilight Zone episode to me."

Ecstatic that Margie even knew of his two favorite old-time sci-fi shows, he smiled brightly, but said, "No, I'm sure it's an Outer Limits. Yeah...it's a Limits."

"I don't think so, Charlie...I believe that's a Zone."

Beaming a smile so wide that his face might indeed break, or at the very least crack slightly, Charlie laughed as he said, "Nope...it's a Limits."

"Wrong, Charlie," Margie almost sang the words, "that's a Zone."

"Limits"..."Zone"..."Limits"..."Zone." the battle raged, and then, both of them laughing hysterically, thinking the same thing at the same time, they said in unison, "Wanna see something REALLY scary?"

Margie slapped her hand towel at Charlie, still laughing and said, "Well, whatever...I've got a meal to tend to. Anything I can get for you?"

"No, thanks, Margie. You've already done too much for me."

"No way...you enjoy the show and I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

She floated like a beautiful butterfly back into the kitchen. Charlie was beside himself. Apparently Margie knew her sci-fi shows...and even knew the "something really scary" reference from the TZ movie. She was just such a joy to talk to. He sighed and returned his eyes to the television, but they actually saw little. His mind was light years away, racing at warp speed. A little of his old friend courage was coming back. He actually felt confidence resurfacing from years of disuse, dusting itself off and preparing itself for battle with Charlie's self doubts.

He really liked Margie. He wanted her to be more than a friend. The ember in his chest was glowing brighter with each breath... and he could almost hear his chest crackling as the fire popped and sizzled into ever brightening life. Charlie was falling in love.

A short while later, Margie once again gracefully glided into the living room...this time to announce that dinner was ready. Just as she said so, thunder rumbled outside...and the lights flickered ominously.