Chance Encounter Ch. 01

"Here's to nice memories!" Paul proclaimed as he lifted his glass. Glenda raised hers too, touching his gently.

"What about you?" Paul changed the subject. "What's happened to you during all these years?"

"I was hoping to talk awhile about what happened on a blanket in the woods a long time ago, Paul. It would be a better story." She looked at him with a question in her eyes that asked how much he really wanted to know.

When Paul didn't answer Glenda drew a deep breath and swallowed the rest of her vodka.

"If you really want to hear this, then you better order me another drink."

**************

"About six weeks after you went off to college, my mother and I moved out here to Chicago. I wanted to enroll in secretarial school, but she asked me to go with her. It was just to be a short stay at first. My Aunt Margaret was ill. Everyone in the family thought that my mother should be the one to come out and stay with her because my father had recently passed away. They must have thought that she couldn't have had anything better to do. Mother didn't know how to say 'No!' We thought that we were only committed until the beginning of the New Year. I guess that I couldn't say "No!" either. Anyway, by the time the next Easter rolled around, it was clear that we were here to stay."

A fresh round of drinks arrived. Paul ordered a steak. Glenda had the same.

"I got a job as a receptionist," Glenda continued. "It wasn't great, but it paid the bills."

"Aunt Margaret passed away that July. Mother felt like the 'Angel of Death'; first my father, then Aunt Margaret. The family seemed to avoid her after that. It was so unfair. They recruited her to give up her home to look after my aunt in her final days, and then dropped her like a hot potato. It wasn't long before Mother's health started sliding, too. I know that she felt empty. My brothers were hardly ever to be found. She died about four years later. I think that she just got too tired and lonely."

"I didn't know your mother very well," Paul said, "but I'm sorry."

Glenda raised her hand to stop him.

"The story's just getting started!" she warned. Paul shrugged and motioned for her to proceed.

"Not long after that I found a receptionist job at a better company. I still had dreams of going to secretarial school. I was only twenty. I found a new boyfriend, too. Pretty soon I was pregnant. We decided to get married—big mistake. Halfway through, he changed his mind and made me get an abortion. It was a back-street job in the days just before Roe and they botched it. I ended up in Emergency, hemorrhaging. I found out that there would be no more pregnancies. My soon-to-be 'ex' said that he didn't want a wife who could never have kids. I think that he just wanted an excuse. I don't know where he is now."

"It took me while to recover, and I lost my job. I was broke for awhile, but someone is always looking for a receptionist. Three years later, I got married again. It didn't work out. I was a two-time loser at the age of twenty-nine."

"The second divorce had a better settlement, though. It paid my way through secretarial school. After that, I found a job at Northwestern University. It's actually not far from here. I've been there ever since—nearly twenty-five years. I worked hard. For the past four years, I've been secretary to the Dean of the Law School. That's why I had to be late tonight. I was helping him get ready for a presentation. I came here right from work."

As she finished, their entrees arrived. The waiter set them on the table.

Paul had listened in near disbelief to her biography.

"That's an amazing story, Glenda," Paul said. "You've been through a lot of hardship. I don't see a trace of self-pity."

"I left that part out," she joked as she cut a forkful of steak. "You're the one with the amazing story. It was easier to keep track of you. We would see your name in the paper when you were playing football. I even learned something about the game. My mother would always give me the 'if only' routine every time your name was in print."

"Little did she know ..." Paul chimed in. They both laughed and Glenda rolled her eyes. "Then it was in all the papers," Glenda continued, "how you refused to go into the pro football draft—because you wanted to be an engineer. That sounds like a storybook!"

"Ancient history!" declared Paul, waving his hand dismissively.

"Well, what's the rest?" Glenda demanded.

"I've been lucky—except for Sally passing away. We have a daughter and a son. One is in grad school at Michigan State. The other is an undergrad at Marquette. They're both great kids! When I graduated from State a chemical company hired me. First they sent me to grad school in New York State. That's where Sally and I met. I've worked for them ever since. We've lived in many places—even overseas a couple of times. I work now in the headquarters in Michigan. That's probably where I'll be until I retire."

Paul stopped speaking and Glenda nodded to acknowledge that the biography had concluded. It was only then that they noticed the sweet sounds of the jazz combo leaking "Stardust" from the bar into the dining room.

"What do you think of the band?" Glenda asked. "It gives a nice ambience to the place, don't you think?"

They listened silently for a few moments.

"I think that the piano player needs a stronger left hand." said Paul.

"Just listen and enjoy!" Glenda scolded, laughing. Paul started laughing, too.

Paul obeyed. They finished their dinners. They ordered dessert. Normally, he would pass and just have a coffee. The mood hit him right, however, and he indulged himself.

"Glenda," he began, "I don't want to embarrass you, but I have to tell you something."

She looked up from her raspberry torte and waited for the rest. Paul didn't continue.

"Well, what did you want to say that would embarrass me?" she said, eyebrows furled.

"Only this," he said, taking a deep breath. "It hasn't been since Sally died that I've had as much pleasure dining out as I've had so far tonight. Thanks for coming out with me!"

The words made Glenda drop her fork loudly to her plate. Her expression changed. Before Paul made his utterance, she had the look of someone preparing to return humorous repartee. After the pronouncement she had the helpless look of a person touched, by complete surprise. Finally, she gathered herself for a reply.

"Paul, you are so nice to say that!" she said softly, looking him squarely in the eye. "How could you think that you would embarrass me?" Paul shrugged; himself a little sheepish.

"It really hurt you when you wife was killed. It hurts you now," she continued. "I'm so sorry."

Paul looked down at the table for a second, then back up at Glenda.

"When a person dies," he began "there's a finite amount of pain associated with it. It's shared by all the people involved. If it is a long slow death, the person dying suffers most. The loved ones are spared the bulk of it because they have a chance to prepare. When it's the other way around, the balance is reversed. The suffering is left for those who remain behind."

"Someday, you've got to let it go," Glenda said.

"I feel better right now having said it. It's something that I didn't realize was inside me until this moment; but I know now that it's true," Paul said. "I'm sorry to unload it onto your shoulders."

Glenda gave her hand a little wave, to make light of the supposed burden.

"Now I'll embarrass you with something," she said, her face brightening. "When I found out that you're single, and you saw that I'm single, too—and considering our history—I was just waiting for you to make a move to get me into bed tonight. After a while, I knew that I didn't have to worry. It made the dinner a lot more enjoyable. Thank you, Paul. You're a nice man!"

"Now I am embarrassed!" he said, with a red face. "It's been a long time for me. I wouldn't know how to go about it, even if it had been my plan."

They laughed on it for a few moments.

"It's been a long time for me, too, Paul. The last man that I was in bed with was my second ex-husband—before he was my 'ex'."

They were ready to leave; Paul asked the maitre d' to call a cab.

"Where's your car?" he asked her.

"I left it back at Northwestern," she answered. "If it's alright with you, I think we can have the taxi drop you at your hotel and then take me home. I'll leave my car in the lot overnight and take the 'L' in tomorrow."

"It was a splendid dinner, Paul, and so elegant. If I didn't know that you're on an expense account, I would offer to pay Dutch Treat," she joked.

"I could put it through," he answered, "but I'm not going to. It would take away part of the pleasure."

As the cab pulled up to the hotel Paul turned to Glenda. "Would you mind if I were to call you again?" He gave the cabbie a fifty and told him to take her where she told him.

"I'll mind a lot if you don't!" she proclaimed.

*************

On Friday, two days later, it was late morning and Paul was in his office waiting for a call from Harry Carmichael, the general contractor on the Peoria job. While he waited he thought about Glenda.

He had been thinking about her a lot since their dinner two nights before. Their time together had been surprisingly pleasant. Paul decided that there was a lot to like about her. She was like Sally in some ways, but quite different in others.

While Sally would have sipped white wine and eaten baked fish, Glenda was knocking down vodka and tying into a steak. If Sally had ever tried to drink three vodkas, she would have needed a stretcher to get out of the restaurant. Glenda looked like she could have handled one or two more.

Glenda was like Sally in that she didn't let Paul's serious side get to her—and didn't let it get to Paul, either. Paul liked that. He respected what Glenda had done with her life, after starting out with so much against her. He meant what had said in the restaurant about her not showing any self-pity. That meant a lot to Paul. He liked the way that she looked him in the eye and said what was on her mind. She could laugh and joke with him, one-on-one. Then, in an instant, she could release her sweet feminine side as needed. At the right time, she would sit quietly while Paul poured himself out on her, with neither judgment nor retort. Paul decided that he wanted Glenda as a friend. It was new for him to have a woman as a friend.

The phone rang. Paul's secretary announced that Harry was on the line.

Paul: Hello Harry, everything lined up for Monday?

Harry: Good news and bad, Paul. The guys in Peoria are behind us, but can't get to Chicago on Monday; same with the State Senator. The good new is that the local Chamber and AFL-CIO want to get behind us, too.

Paul:Harry, this will work out just fine. I'm going to stay away from the meeting on Monday. I'll send Jim Spencer in my place. I don't want Hopkins to think that I'm all excited just because he's showing up. Spencer needs the experience, anyway, and whatever Hopkins has got, Jim can figure it out just as well as I could. We'll let Hopkins talk to the wall. We'll lower the boom in the next go-around.

Harry:Sounds good to me, Paul. I was worried before I spoke to you, but I feel better now. I'll let you know how it goes.

Paul's decision to skip the Monday meeting made him change his plans on seeing Glenda. He was wondering if it would have been too soon for a follow-up date, anyway. He pressed the intercom button and spoke to his secretary.

"Marge, please ask Jim Spencer to step into my office, and then see if you can book me into that Chicago seminar next Friday."

************

It wasn't a very original date idea. Paul always went with what worked. The dinner the week before turned out so well, so he asked Glenda to dinner again at the same place. He had called her Tuesday and she happily agreed.

He waited for her at the bar sipping a scotch. He barely heard the band playing softly at the opposite end of the room. Waiting for Glenda to arrive, Paul looked forward to being with her again. He thought about Sally, and tried to coax himself into feeling guilty. He thought that he heard Sally's voice in the background. Paul expected to hear her sad and melancholy, or jealous at the appearance of a challenger. Paul was wrong. Sally's voice was happy and lilting, whispering to his subconscious: "Yes, Paul! Go for it!"

He saw Glenda walk in. He caught her eye and motioned her over. She had a nice look, just as the week before, but it was more suited to nightlife than her business apparel of the week before. She wore a white blazer, and under it a navy dress with small white dots. The dress dropped to mid-calf, and was full at the bottom. The neckline was cut in a vee, but not immodestly. It had some small pleats about the collar that gave it a full appearance and looked more dressed up. She wore a pearl necklace that sat on her collarbone.

Paul stood as she approached his place at the bar. A broad smile emblazoned her face. Paul detected a hint of perfume.

"Glenda, you really look very nice," he told her honestly.

"Well, Paul, this time you gave me a few days' notice so I had a chance. I changed at work before I left."

Paul's chest expanded slightly at Glenda's taking pains to look good for her date with him. It was a nice feeling that he had almost lost the memory of. It became a door opener. He decided to allow himself the indulgence of emotion, if any came his way.

"We can get our table now, if you're ready," he told her.

"Let's stay here for a while," Glenda said. "I'm not ready for a big dinner yet, and the band sounds so nice."

Paul picked up his drink from the bar and they found a nearby booth. He motioned the waitress over.

"Vodka and tonic, right?"

"No, not tonight," she answered. "I'm ready for a change. I think that I'll have an Old Fashioned."

Paul ordered the drinks and asked the waitress to bring them a shrimp cocktail, as well.

"I think that I'm ready for a change, too," Paul said. Glenda sat at attention.

"Last week I found myself manipulating my schedule so that I could make this date," he continued. "After I did, I found myself really looking forward to it. I was thinking about Sally, too. Perhaps I should have felt guilty but I just couldn't. I didn't feel like I was leaving her behind, either. It just felt alright."

In the dim light of the barroom booth it was hard for Paul to detect Glenda's expression. Her silence over the next ten seconds told him everything. Paul had assumed that she would welcome an arrangement between them. They had gotten on so well together; he assumed the next step would be an easy one. That was a mistake. He stifled his disappointment for the time being.

"I think that I know where this is going, Paul," Glenda answered. "I enjoy being with you; I respect and admire you. I just don't know if I'm ready for what I think you're headed for."

The two fell silent, wanting to say more, unsure how to say it.

"I can't take your wife's place," Glenda finally said. "The more I would try, the worse it would be. It wouldn't be right for me to try, either."

"No one could ever take Sally's place for me," Paul said. "She's in me down deep. I've done a lot of thinking about it this past week. I realize that nothing could drive her out of me. I didn't understand that before. I thought that another woman would. I was afraid of being unfaithful to Sally. I'm not afraid of that anymore. There can be a place—an important place—for her and some room for someone else, too."

"Paul," Glenda spoke quietly with a sad look, "do you remember that I told you that I hadn't been with a man since my second husband?" Paul nodded.

"There's a reason for that." She continued. "When my second marriage broke up, it was devastating. I was alone, in a dead-end job; could never have children; no family to speak of, and few friends. I just couldn't accept ending up that way. My marriages had set me back, not helped me."

Glenda took a gulp of her drink and raised her hands to let Paul know that she had more to say.

"I decided that I would do something to make my life better, and I did. I vowed that I wouldn't get involved with men. At first, I thought that I would find someone after I had made something of myself. Then, I could come into a relationship with something to offer. I got busy. The years slipped by. One day I realized that I would always be on my own ... permanently."

"Glenda," Paul said, "you've accomplished a lot for yourself. You have every right to be satisfied with what you've done. You have to run your life the way you see fit."

"I like turning my own key—being independent," she said, straightening up. "There are things that I have to give up, too. It's lonely. Sometimes I miss having some romance—and the pleasures that go with romance. I dated a few men. They were nice. They were headed toward something that I couldn't accept for myself; to be taken under their wing, possessed, obligated. I had struggled to free myself. Finally, I gave up and resigned myself to be alone."

"I have no desire to possess you," Paul assured her.

"What would want of me, then?"

"Your friendship ..." he answered. "... as a woman, like you have done over the past few weeks. Maybe I could be a friend to you. I don't want to get remarried, or even move out of my house. I'm at the peak of my career—it means a lot to me. I know for you, it's the same. It would be nice just to be able to know that I have a special friend here in Chicago."

"I have to think about it, Paul. I don't think that I could give up my life. You make it sound so simple. I need to be sure."

"Take your time." Paul answered. "I'm not shopping for bids. This possibility just came along without warning. It has to be right for the both of us."

They fell silent for a few minutes, nursing their drinks. Finally Paul spoke, trying to brighten the mood.

"I got tickets to the Cubs for tomorrow afternoon. I thought that you might like to go."

"Oh Paul!" she exclaimed. "I've never been to see the Cubs—or the White Sox, either. I'm afraid I don't know anything about sports."

"It'll be a learning experience!" he joked. "What do you say?"

"As friends?" she asked.

"Sure, what do you say?"

"Alright, it's a date!" she replied.

The jazz combo started playing "Autumn Leaves".

"Let's dance!" she commanded.

"That's asking a lot, Glenda,," he protested as she took his hand and dragged him out of the booth.

"You don't like to dance? Most men don't, but here you are, anyway!" she teased him.

Paul was glad that the lighter mood between them had returned.

"It was asking a lot to make me go to the baseball game," she said, looking up at him, smiling, "so now we're even."

Paul didn't say much, having to concentrate on holding his own on the dance floor.

"Do you promise not to try to possess me?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"That's what I said," he replied.

"I think that we're two lost souls, trying to be found," Glenda said. "It was like that thirty six years ago in that pine grove. Here we are again in the same way.

"What goes around comes around," Paul replied, not meaning to be glib, but doing so just the same. Glenda was unfazed.

We'll be more than friends, but less than lovers. We'll be 'loving friends'."

"Suits me!" Paul replied. "I don't know what else to say."

"You're supposed to say ..." Glenda leaned closer; whispering to him "... let's go to the hotel room."

As they got into the cab, Glenda turned to Paul and said, "Have him take us to my car at Northwestern. We'll take my car to the hotel. I packed an overnight bag this morning and left it in my trunk."

**********

As Glenda and Paul stepped into the hotel room Paul placed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside handle. Glenda turned and looked at him with sparkling eyes and an eager smile.