Sans Serif

My ex did not bring a date, which was good. I think that would have cast a discomforting spell over the entire dinner. But, if and when Ellen and I did become a couple, how would my family respond to her under similar circumstances. If and when. That was the question. Where was Ellen and why had she stopped all communication? Simply sitting at the same table with my former wife, accentuated the absence of the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I'm not sure of the date, but nine or ten days after having dinner at my daughter's, the phone rang in the middle of the night. It wasn't my cell phone; it was the landline. Ellen was the only person on earth (other than the phone company) that had my cell phone number. However, almost everyone I knew had my landline number. So, woken from a deep sleep, I just assumed it would be anyone but Ellen. But it was Ellen, and she had been crying. "Dean - It's Ellen."

"Ellen, what's the matter? Are you okay?" There was no immediate answer, but I could hear her softly whimpering. I let her gather her thoughts, before I asked again, "Ellen, tell me what's going on."

There was another pause before she finally said, "Dean, I miss you."

I knew that wasn't the real reason. Oh, I believed that she missed me. I was comfortable in that thought. But that alone wouldn't have triggered our first telephone conversation since I called her hotel room more than nine months ago. It was a little before eleven in California, so it must have been almost two AM in New York. So, there was something much more significant happening. But she wouldn't tell me.

We talked for almost an hour, but she gave very few clues as to the trauma going on in her life. Was she married and her husband, or some other intimate partner, found out about our relationship? Was a family member seriously ill or in an accident? Was there some issue at work, or was she in some sort of financial or legal trouble? Try as I might, I couldn't weasel enough information out of her to get me on the proper track.

She just kept talking about us. About how much she missed me, and without actually saying the "L" word, that she loved me, and she wanted to be with me. And I believed every word she said. But why wouldn't she just tell me what was wrong. I had a little money. I wasn't rich, but I wasn't broke either. However, I couldn't help her if she wouldn't tell me what the issue was.

Finally, around midnight, she tearfully said, "Dean, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later." And she hung up. No sweet little terms of endearment. No kisses. And certainly, no phone sex. Just, "I've got to go."

Two more weeks went by with no communication. She had called on my land line and I didn't have caller ID. It was available back then, but I didn't have it. And Ellen wouldn't have known that one way or the other. To be honest, it was probably the furthest thing from her mind. So, I just sat and waited.

Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and I was preparing for a very lonesome holiday. I had some buddies that I could invite myself over to watch football and drink beer. But most of them had families, so that wouldn't be cool - it would be pitiful. I could always stop by my daughter's house. I got along fine with her boyfriend, that wasn't a problem. But as I hadn't actually been invited yet, that would be a little uncomfortable as well. Besides, they were probably inviting my ex over, and I just wasn't ready for another one of those events again. And as they didn't have any kids yet, maybe they were going someplace other than staying home.

To say I was in the holiday doldrums was an understatement. The only person I wanted to be with was in New York, and she wasn't responding to my daily inquiries. That is until December 18^th. It was the Tuesday before Christmas, and things were really slowing down at the office as more and more people started taking leave. And you would think that would make more work for the rest of us. And normally, that would be true. But not at Christmas; the office almost became a ghost town. So, with little to do, I usually left early myself. I arrived home around three that afternoon and just planned on taking Henry for a long walk. The weather in San Diego is gorgeous year-round, so that is never an issue.

As I walked in the door, Henry was excited to see me as always, and that cheered me up a little. A man and his dog, it's a beautiful thing. But as I walked into the bedroom to change my shoes, I glanced over at the Selectric. There was a note from Ellen, 'What's your address?' was all it said.

I immediately sat down and pounded out my home address, my phone number again - both of them. And hit the carriage return. There was no immediate response. But of course, I didn't think there would be. I waited for a few minutes, but I could tell Henry was ready to go. So, I added, 'Out to walk Henry, call my cell phone if you need anything.'

I didn't hear from her on the 19^th, or the 20^th, or the 21^st, and I was beginning to get nervous again. But when I returned home Friday, December 22, around noon - Ellen was sitting on my front porch waiting for me. I sprang from my car and raced to hug her. She stood as I approached, and we embraced as lovers do after a long separation.

"Ellen, what are you doing here?" I exclaimed as I wiped tears of joy from my eyes.

"I wanted to meet Henry," she said with a devilish smile. "I've heard some much about him."

The tears filling my eyes were from the shock of seeing her as much as from the amusement of her joke. "Right this way," I said as I fumbled for my keys. Swinging the door open, Henry first raced to greet me, and the moment he saw me wrap my arm around Ellen's shoulders, he greeted her with the same enthusiasm he had always shown for me. Somehow, Henry knew this was the person I had been pining over for the last nine months, and he couldn't wait to meet her.

"Come in," I said holding the door open. "Come in." I didn't have much of a bar. But I did have several bottles of wine. So, after helping her with her luggage (that was an optimistic sign that she came with luggage), I motioned for her to take a seat on the couch, while I poured us both a glass of wine.

Now seated, and taking her hand, I asked, "Okay Ellen, tell me what is going on." I wanted to lecture her about being so God damn secretive, but I thought better of it.

"I live with my mother. I have lived with my mother for the last twenty years, ever since my father died," she said wiping tears from her cheeks between sips of wine. "My parents survived the holocaust and came to America right after the war. I had not lived at home for almost a decade, but on my father's death bed, he made me swear that I would take care of my mother for as long as she was alive."

There was another pause as she cleared her throat. "My mom passed away last Sunday...."

"Oh, Ellen. I am so sorry," I said as I took her hand.

"No... no," Ellen softly protested. "It was time. I have literally spent my life honoring my father's dying wishes. And now it is time for me to reclaim my own life." She chugged almost the entire glass of wine, presumably to gain the courage to tell me the rest of the story. "My parents were teenagers living in Hungry when they were captured by the Nazis and sent to labor camps to support the war effort. When they were liberated, they move to America and settled in New York."

She paused to finish the rest of her wine. And as I reached to refill her glass, she continued. "My parents made a good life for themselves here, and we lived an upper-middle-class life. But because of their experiences in Europe, they insisted that I marry a Jew. And I tried. In college, I only dated Jewish boys - well, for the most part." She paused again to wipe her eyes. "And after college, I lived with my Jewish boyfriend for almost five years. But... but we never married. My Jewish community hated that, particularly my mother. She constantly nagged and nagged me to marry him. She claimed that it was a humiliation to our family and an affront to God. But Dean - I couldn't, I just couldn't. I liked him, and we got along okay as roommates. But that was basically all we were. The last two years that we lived together; we had separate bedrooms. I didn't love him, and I'm not sure he loved me either."

She started digging in her purse for another Kleenex. And when she couldn't find one, I got up and retrieved a box of them from the bathroom. "The last several years were the worst. She was determined that I marry a 'Good Jewish Boy' before she died. She organized the women from our synagogue to find me a husband. Any husband, as long as he was Jewish. I was already forty years old. No 'Good Jewish Boy' wants to marry a spinster. And I didn't want any of them. After a while, the thought of it just made my skin crawl." Ellen paused to wipe her face and take another sip of wine.

"You chose me," I said with a hopeful smile.

That actually did brighten her mood. "Yes... yes my loveable knight in shining armor. I did choose you," she said as she reached to hug me. "I don't care if you are Jewish or not. You made my otherwise boring trip to Washington, DC, the most exciting adventure of my life. And I will always love you for it."

I was now the one crying, and I pulled a Kleenex to wipe my own eyes. "Was it love at first sight?" I asked as my voice began to choke with emotion.

Ellen looked up for the first time since sitting down on the couch. As her face turned from one of gloom and sadness, to one of hope and joy, she said, "No, Dean. It was when you stood up on the commuter train and pulled up the handle on my luggage for me. So, I guess I would say it took about fifty-five minutes to fall in love with you."

I didn't know what to say. I don't think I had similar feelings for Ellen until she kissed me on the Blue Line as we sped toward her hotel. So, it probably took me a little over two days. But I couldn't really say that. So, instead, I stood up and walking back to the front door, I yanked up the handle of her rollaboard that was now in my entry hall and wheeled it back to where she was sitting. I took her hand, pulled her to her feet. And with her luggage in one hand, and her hand in my other, I walked them both to my bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, as we both lay naked and exhausted staring at the darkened ceiling in my bedroom, I asked, "So, who took care of your mother during the day and when you were traveling?"

"Well, at first the ladies from our Synagogue would keep an eye on her during the day, when I was at work. Once she got to the point where she could no longer care for herself during the day, I had to hire a home care nurse. The home care worker would do the day shift and I would do the evening and night shift. But when I had to start traveling, the nurse would stay full time."

"Wasn't that expensive?" I asked.

"She could afford it. And besides, there was no way I could get her into a nursing home. She wouldn't have been able to direct my love life from there. So, that was out of the question."

I laughed at that. I was sure Ellen was being a little sarcastic, and it was funny. But once I stopped laughing, I asked, "So, what's the deal with the typewriter? How does that work?"

Ellen turned her head toward me, and in all seriousness said, "I have no fucking idea."

"Just magic," I responded.

"I think the greater cosmos just wanted us to be together. We were in the hands of the Fates - it was our destiny. That's all I can say."

"Well then, what was the deal about the Letter Gothic font ball? Why could we only communicate when I had the Letter Gothic typeball on the Selectric?"

She thought for a minute. "Well, my first job with IBM was in there graphic arts department. We designed the Letter Gothic type face. IBM wanted multiple fonts for the Selectric and the popular sans serif fonts, like Helvetica and Univers are copyrighted, and IBM didn't want to pay a royalty. So, we were tasked with coming up with a sans serif font that looked like the other popular modern clean fonts but was different enough that they couldn't be sued."

Ellen reached for her glass of wine on the bedside table. And after taking a long sip, she added, "When IBM stopped production of all typewriters, the graphic arts department was disbanded. I was lucky enough to find a job in the corporate travel office."

"So, the Gods just wanted us to be together then," I said. "At least as long as we used the proper font."

"Yes, She did," Ellen said with a wink and another sip of her wine.

With Ellen referring to the 'Gods' as 'She,' I was quickly coming to the conclusion that she was making a clean break from her mother, now that the oath she had made to her father had been honored.

"Ellen, this is the best Christmas any man could ever wish for," I said as I raised my own glass of wine in a toast.

"Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah," Ellen toasted me as our glasses clinked. "The Gods have brought us together, and may no man - or woman, put asunder. I love you, Dean Ellison."

"I love you too, Ellen Brenman."