One Night in Philly: Flower Show

(It was fun to write this, and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know with a good vote or constructive comment.)

After four months, I'd had enough of myself. Grace had her lawyers send me a legal separation agreement. Her note explained that she needed to be apart to decide what was next for her. She wanted to be able to meet and be with other men and not be guilty about it. So, we separated. You say I could have fought that? Really? What was there to say or do? The world is big, and she wanted her freedom to go look. She might come back, and then again, she might not. Meanwhile, she was setting me free to do what I thought was best for me. It was shitty, but it was honest.

I spent Thanksgiving with our daughter and her family. Sitting at my desk the next day, I felt untethered and lost. I'm on the wrong side of age 65 and retired. My wife had gone off to find something better than me. I never had hobbies and my friends were part of my former working life. I was lonely and it was becoming oppressive.

I took myself in hand. An article I read suggested going back through one's contacts and friends, no matter how out of date, to see what relationships might be revived. I threw myself into it, looking at old photo albums and letters, diaries that died off, email folders that were hopelessly in need of a "delete" session. I came across a box that was marked as holding baby pictures of our son. When I looked inside, what I found were pictures from my college days. I remembered them as soon as I saw then but hadn't thought of those photos for years. Letting the rest of the job go, I found myself at the kitchen table, sorting.

The largest pile was made up of snapshots, mostly the old Polaroid instant photo type, of a group of girls I had come to know back in college. In those day, Philadelphia had a network of small Catholic colleges. The girls in our group all attend one, and I attend one of the men's. Ellen, Annette, Patty, their pictures were there. I remembered that there were ten of us, who had been close. I stayed in touch with Annette the longest. She never married as far as I knew, and I'd escort her to events when she needed a wingman. Eventually, when I married Irene, my time with Annette tapered away as well.

I was making up lists of names to call. I had few phone numbers but made progress when the one's that I could call pointed me to many of the rest. The girls were tougher because they were their own group. Find one and find them all, but I was having trouble finding any. I had the time so I went to the college alumni office to see if they could give me a lead and struck out. As I was about to leave, I saw a pile of the typical magazine your college or university sends you -- the one with sleek pictures of modern buildings, perfect portraits of the deans and a long list of donors. I knew first and last names, maybe I might find something in the donor list. In the tenth one that I poured over, I saw a listing "Annette Jones" for the class of 1970. There were advertisements in the back. Annette was a real estate broker.

Finding her was easy. I made myself sit down and write a note, re-introducing myself after many years. I didn't hear back for several weeks and then I got a call. Annette had been away and just gotten through her mail. Of course, she wanted to see me. Ellen would too and Annette would make the calls to set things up. When was good and where? We agreed to the details and I confess I was nervous sitting there, waiting for them to arrive. I was way in the back, but I recognized them right away. I stood up so that they'd see me. Annette and Ellen gave a little wave back and made their way over.

Even now, that luncheon seems to have been so fast. We were there for more than three hours, but it felt like minutes. They asked about me, my life. Was I still working? Did I get married? Kids? Any grandkids yet? How was I doing after the separation? That was harder to answer. I didn't want to sound like a cranky old fart, complaining that his wife had run off with the landscaper. It was a blow, I said. I hadn't seen it coming. I thought that with retirement, we'd have plenty of time to get back in touch and tend to our marriage, but I was wrong. Irene had moved on and I hadn't seen her go. By the time I reached out to her, she was with someone else. I didn't expect her to return.

It was getting towards the end. Ellen took my hands in her's and caught my eye. Tell me, she asked, what happened between you and Andi? I knew they'd ask. Andi and I were the "forever" couple until I called it off on a long-distance phone call. How lame is that? But it's something I did and never was proud of.

I said it was long ago and best left to rest. Certainly, Andi must be doing fine and that she was married too. I did say it was the hardest thing I'd ever done and the one I most regretted. I felt immensely sad as I said that. I had never gone back to sort out in my mind what I had done and the consequences it had on my life. But here, with Annette and Ellen, I did and saw nothing but lost chances and sadness. When I went on my journey to reclaim my life, I hadn't thought it would be like this.

We went our ways after lunch, and I emailed them a thank you for the time together. I expressed the hope that we'd do that again soon. Of course, we did no such thing. It was mid-February. I had taken a quick trip to Iceland to see the northern lights, great writhing sheets of simmering green light. I returned, determined not to sit around feeling sorry for myself.

The Philadelphia Flower Show started in 1829 and gets 250,000 visitors a year. It's held downtown in the convention center and runs for a week. I decided to go but I didn't want to go alone. I had been Annette's wingman enough times, maybe this time she'd be mine. Absolutely, that sounded great, she said. She wanted to go but, like me, needed someone to go with her. It all worked out. A day or two later, she called to see if Ellen could join us. The more, the merrier, I said.

The great convention hall is huge, which did not keep the crowds from packing in and making the hall feel claustrophobic. The flowers were amazing. I kept taking photos. I would have been embarrassed by that but everyone else was. It's part of the ritual. I have some on my walls at home, framed and I'm looking at them as I write this. There was a central display of a woodland scene, big pines and a cabin, located on a large oval-shaped island. I went left and noticed the girls take the right-handed side. I was snapping away. As I came to the end, I became aware someone was standing in the way.

I turned to see a woman, 5' 4", her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, a yellow sweater over a tan skirt. She smiled and I dropped my phone. I bent down to pick it up and Andi bent down with me. Almost kneeling, the crown passing us by, we were together again, and I had nothing to say. I heard myself babbling out of reflex. How are you? It's been so long. Andi just smiled and handed me my phone. She was first to her feet and offered hand to help me up.

Matt, I'm so glad to see you, she said. Time has been good to you. Annette and Ellen told me all about your lunch, and what you talked about. When Annette called .... When she asked if I wanted to join you, well, here I am.

I was floored. I didn't know what to say. I looked over to Annette and Ellen for help, but they giggled and waved bye-bye. We needed some time to catch up, Ellen said. Annette added that we'd see each other tonight at the restaurant. We were caught up in a mob scene and Andi asked if I knew of a better place to talk. The convention center is built on the old Reading Railroad terminal, part of which is the Reading Terminal market. The market opened in 1893 and has great places to eat. We wound up in a booth in the diner.

I resolved I would not make Andi ask the big question. I'd go first and lay it out there. It was my decision that changed things, it was what I did, and I needed to own it. I was terrified when I called her, I explained. All those years ago, I wasn't ready to be anyone's husband. I was barely keeping myself together. My parents had divorced, and I had no idea what a healthy relationship with a woman looked like. I knew ... I just knew that if I got married back then, I would have fucked it up and ruined more lives than just my own. So, I called her and ended it before I failed everyone.

She heard all that panic in my voice. Yes, I did say it was me when I called. She acknowledged that. I had said my inexperience, my insecurity was the problem, not her. She reminded me that she begged me not to end us. She saw how much I needed someone, and she wanted to be that person. I told her how sorry I was, and she shushed me. You have two wonderful children, she said, who would not be in this word if we had stayed together. I nodded and said she was right, of course. But I never forgot her, I responded. I kept track of her through friends until I heard she was married and doing well. Andi told me she did the same thing. Neither of us were saying much and the way things were getting silent terrified me. Did we have so little in common that we had nothing to say to each other?

Andi called the waitress over and grabbed the check. She took my hand and pulled. Come on, she said, I've something to show you. Curious, I followed. There's a hotel at 12^th and Market that's famous as the world's first international style skyscraper in America. We got to her room and Andi opened the windows to show the panorama of William Penn atop City Hall's clock tower and then out to the Art Museum. She turned her back to me.

Unzip me, Andi asked. I did and her dress fell forward on her arms, crossed below her breasts. She turned and began to unbutton my shirt. We undressed, taking our time, touching each other here and there. I went along as if in a trance. Andi tilted her face up and I kissed her. I started to speak. I wasn't ready for this. I needed ...

Andi told me to swallow and slipped a pill in my mouth. I recognized Viagra from the shape and taste. We kissed and touched, and later did more. What we said to each other and did, who cried and over what, how we found intimacy after 50 years is beyond this story. We were nestled in the pillows on her bed when I asked my big question.

Her husband Hal has cancer, the bad kind. He was in a clinic this week. The treatment would keep him comfortable for a while, but he was beyond a cure. Being who he is, Jack focused not on saving himself but making sure his loved ones were taken care of. Andi told him about me when they were dating. She didn't want there to be any secrets. From time to time, I would come up in Andi's house for a reason I never would have guessed. I was in her old home movies, apparently quite often. When they showed those old video's, there I'd be, and they'd talk about me. Jack wanted Andi not to be lonely when he was gone. When the chance came to meet me with Annette and Ellen for support, Jack told Andi to do it. He released her from her vows and urged her to see what was left of her old flame.

What do you say to that? I didn't know. Jack is a wonderful husband. He must love you very much. She certainly has had a terrific life together with such a man. I regret that his illness was part of the reason why we were meeting. I hoped that Hal and I could be friends. I said all those things and meant every word I said. Andi held my face close to her's and stroked by cheek.

He wants to meet you too. Hal wants to make sure you know he gives us his blessing. From there, it's up to you and me to make what we can of this. Andi was right, and I was glad she said all that. Suddenly, she was up and shooed me to get dressed. I'd see her at the restaurant at 8PM. Andi went into the bathroom for a moment, long enough for me to find her airline reservation and take a quick photo. She had things to do? Well, so did I. I wasn't sure 8PM gave me enough time.

We had dinner at an amazing French restaurant on one of the city's park-like squares. While Sandi was away from the table, I told Annette and Ellen what I had in mind. They thought I'd never pull it off. Before dinner, I called the kids and told them what was happening. Their joy at my good fortune was humbling -- sort of the acid test as to whether you've done a good job as a father. I called my lawyer and told him I was tired of being separated and didn't want Grace to come back. Please file divorce papers and get it done. He'd have my mail forwarded to his office and keep track of my bills, for a small paralegal charge. They call themselves "Philadelphia lawyers" for a reason.

I got to the airport early and the flight crew was already on the plane. I went to the gate attendant and made sure my upgrade had me boarding first. Her name was Roberta and I told her my story. Meeting in college, breaking up, reuniting after so many years -- could she help me just a little with what I wanted to do? I got a text message from the girls, saying they'd just dropped Andi off and that she was headed for security. The gate attendant announced that passengers would begin boarding in half an hour. Roberta came up to me and asked me to come with her. She took my boarding pass and sent me down the ramp. Andi told me later that, for her, getting on the plane went like this.

Andi got to the gate and checked in. There was a "problem" with her ticket that they could fix but would she stand over there. And by the way, the gate attendant asked, where did she prefer to sit. Everyone was getting on, and Andi was still standing patiently but getting anxious. There was just Andi and some man waiting. Andi barely listened as the gate attendant told her she could board. They'd saved her a seat, up front on the left as she got on.

I was in Seat 5F, right-hand side (as you look down on the plane) in a window seat. We were nearly full, and a man took the seat next to me. Andi had the aisle seat. Overhead compartments were being closed. People were settling in. I raised my Phillies cap and hit the flight attendant's call light. How could she help me, she asked.

Would you ask the lady at the aisle if she would like to sit next to me? Andi was still dealing with stowing away her carry-ons and didn't hear me. The attendant tapped her on the shoulder. The gentleman at the window wants to know if you would join him for this flight. Andi looked a little annoyed and turned my way. She's a screamer. When Andi's surprised, happy or bad, she's loud about it. Her belt wasn't fastened yet.

What are you doing ... How did you get ... I can't believe ..... It was very loud. Everybody watched.

The man in the middle shook my hand and offered his congratulations. He switched to the aisle, Andi was in my arms and the plane took off on time. Before we touched off, the flight attendant recounted our reunion to the plane, which was meant with cheers, hoops and applause. I looked out the window at Philadelphia, for the first time leaving with the intention of not coming back (at least not to stay). I could see the neighborhood where I grew up. Old Philadelphia memories popped in my head. Ben Franklin flew his kite at 10^th and Market, the first discovery of a fundamental force. In the Convent of Divine Love on Green Street, cloistered nuns in pink and white pray and live in silent contemplation. The oldest bar in Philadelphia is off the northwest corner of 2^nd and Chestnut; it never closed during Prohibition. Gloria Dei Church, built in 1700 by shipwrights, has miniature ships hanging from the ceiling. The British stabled horses in Independence Hall during the Revolutionary War. In the distance, I could see where I had lived with my wife and kids, had a family, was happy but all that had changed.

My love lives somewhere new, and I expect I'll spend the rest of my life there. I was leaving my home but, in my heart, I'd never have another. But Philadelphia is unique. If you would argue the point, top this.

It's the city that snowballed Santa Clause. So much for brotherly love.